Model shel tubing race cars jr dragsters
Trip Report: 05/05 - 05/17. Mainly Tokyo. IIDX traveling in Kanto. Long post.
2024.05.18 21:41 MisterAmmosart Trip Report: 05/05 - 05/17. Mainly Tokyo. IIDX traveling in Kanto. Long post.
Freshly back and awake after a twelve day stint for my first time there. I knew that I wanted to go in general, and while I didn't have a firm itinerary planned out, there was one main goal that I had in terms of sites within the country. The main video game that I play is Beatmania IIDX, and it has internal trophies which are represented as badges. Your profile allows you to assign up to five of them as visible when you start a new round, and there are badges to earn for playing at least one round in every prefecture in Japan, as well as every subregion. Getting the Kanto badge meant that I needed to play at least one round in Tokyo, Kanagawa, Saitama, Gunma, Tochigi, Ibaraki, and Chiba. After five days, I had that complete, and now I have a permanent record of this trip within the game itself. There was also a time-limited event to earn points in IIDX in order to exchange them for goods, such as a hat, or a towel, or a new account card and a poster, and I managed to get that taken care of in somewhat dramatic fashion. I did some other things too.
Primary general points
· Getting Suica set on the phone and using it was generally painless. There were only two times where I needed to summon the help of a resident JR employee to clear up an issue with the gate not reading the card for some reason.
· Most vocal interaction which I had was the opposite of painless, because I continuously kept trying to speak Japanese and failing, and most people would realize that I was completely failing at it and responded with English (some with full on sentences, others with just a few words). There were a few rare times that I was able to express my intent in Japanese, receive a response, understand the response, and reply as necessary, but that was rare. Once English was invoked, I would stay with it, because that's what they were expecting. I've been self-studying the language for more than twenty years in varying degrees of intensity, and while my reading comprehesion seemed sufficient enough for this trip, and while I didn't expect my speaking to be as good because I don't have any opportunity to practice speaking, I came away bitterly disappointed in my vocal and speaking comprehension in terms of my interaction with people there. Even within the trip I could at least overhear common chitchat better, but any time I needed to converse with someone for some reason, I usually needed to have things repeated several times and broken down before I finally realized what was being said.
· You are going to be asked about separately buying a bag with every non-food purchase. Accept or immediately present one that you are carrying to indicate how your purchase shall be bagged.
· I never once had my passport requested for presentation.
· Only once did a person volutnarily reach out to address me, and it was just to ask me where I was from in English. Otherwise, everyone left me alone the entire time.
· Weather through the period was ideal. Mid to upper 70F/25C range and only a few days where it was rainy, and even then it wasn't a downpour. A while ago I personally resolved to only wear suits in public and I purchased a new pair of Mephisto shoes after hearing reports of the extensive walking causing problems for traveller's feet and shoes. My attire help up well; there were only a few times that I needed to avoid sunlight to not get too hot, and I have no issues to report from the shoes.
· I only got X'd out of a restaurant one time, and I think it's only because I wandered into it before it was ready for service. Otherwise, I never once waited in line for food, I never once went to restaurant more than once, and all food was acceptably priced for the portion and excellent for the quality.
For these per-day recounts, I wrote them contemporaneously at the end of each day, so you'll need to forgive me for some writing being in present tense and other writing being in past tense.
Day 1 - Travel, Sugamo, Ikebukuro
Non stop flight from Chicago OHare to Haneda. 12 hours. Good thing I usually don't watch movies, because that just means that all I needed to do was binge a few to make the trip go by.
Pre-trip research led me to choose APA Sugamo as my home base for the visit, and I think that it was a very fortuitious choice. I'll have more to say about it later.
Some awkward encounters happened right away upon checking in here. I was at the nearby Family Mart to buy some things and I didn’t catch that he was making sure I wanted a bag until he repeated it five times. Yes, I’ll take it. Before getting there I was coming down to ground level after checking into my room, and when that person saw that I would have been the only other person going down to the ground, they ducked right back out. I was warned on both of these kinds of things happening, so I guess it’s good to have that immediately out of the way. It would turn out that people deliberately avoiding me was rare throughout the trip.
Despite not sleeping on the trip, I had freshly arrived and had no sense of being tired, so once I had my stuff down, I went off to Ikebukuro right away. No picture or video truly conveys how crowded these areas can get. It can only be experienced in person to be understood.
I soon found Round One Ikebukruo and went right in. So dense and loud. It’s entirely alien to me to see no less than ten IIDX machines in operation and all of them in use. I dumped the money into random tickets, as I foresaw doing, but now I have to wonder if that was the right thing to do, or if it’s tied to that location. I guess I’ll find out.
The forecast is for rain so I need to be in a hurry to figure out where I’m going to go. There might be only one day left for me to get my time limited toys.
Day 2 - Kawasaki, Kanagawa - Utsunomiya, Tochigi - Oomiya, Saitama
My body decided that it only needed four hours of sleep this morning. Without doing more research, I somehow decided to assume that more of the Round One locations were close to 24 hours of operation much like Ikebukuro. Answer: no. I hopped on the train early and went to Shibuya first, but it was very quiet, so I decided to get some of the travels out of the way today and headed south to Kawasaki. I still needed to dawdle for a while until Silk Hat opened at 900AM, and when I finally was able to get inside, I was only able to verify that their store had several allotments of the campaign goods and all allotments were out. Played one round on a monitor that was surprisingly blurry, and I don’t know why that would be the case with a lightning model, but it was, so that was enough.
After doing all of that, I resolved to try to go to Chiba and Ibaraki afterwards. I figured that with Kanagawa and Tokyo likely all out, going to the outskirts would make more sense. However, there was an injury on one of the rails that threw everything off normal, and the train I found myself riding was bound for Utsunomiya instead. Seeing as how I was going to go there eventually, I rolled with it.
It doesn’t take too long to move away from Tokyo metropolitan area before you encounter more forest like areas and rice paddy fields. Halfway through the trip I noticed that two older women suddenly hopped off while the train was waiting to go to the next stop, and I followed them when I realized they found the express line. Utsunomiya has a substantial size to its area and buildings but it was very quiet on the streets there in midday. Walked a mile to Sega GIGO, found that they didn’t even have the goods tracker up. All out. Interesting buliding for it having several neon signs, all vintage and authentic at that. Getting to there from the south meant cutting through Saitama, so I knew I had enough time to make one last attempt there. Research shown two stores being near Oomiya station, so that’s where I ended up. Taito Station was immediately visible upon exit, and they have two IIDX machines specifically with 20 gram springs, which is closer to my home setup and that much lighter than standard 50 gram springs. The final hour drew near and I made one last visit to that city’s Round One. Unlike nearly every other place I went to so far, it only had one IIDX machine. However, and maybe because of that, their goods listing didn’t show everything as out. One painful language exchange later, I was able to discern that what I wanted was available. When you spend more than 3000 yen in a single credit, the game wants to verify if you really want to proceed. It does it again at 6000 and 9000. Yes, I really do. But, having made that money dump I was able to get my hands on the e-amuse card and poster with fifteen minutes left before the deadline. Mission complete. By this point in the day it was exceedingly difficult to even look at the screen so I was ready to come home, but not before getting some goods at the Oomiya Book Off and redeeming what I could for points at Round One Ikebukuro. By the end of the day the only thing that I could tolerate doing was to buy some chicken and nigiri from the nearby train station. Good enough. At that point in the day my body felt like it wants to rock back and forth after all the train riding done today. But, it ended up being worthwhile after all.
One nostalgic feeling I had the most strongly in the day was at the Utsunomiya location where the smell of it triggered past buried memories of yesteryear. I think I want to attribute it to the stronger second hand cigarette smell but I’m not sure - all the same I felt its presence strongly there. Also, I don’t see Oomiya (or really Saitama itself) mentioned as a fun place to go, but it might serve as an acceptable alternative to Ikebukuro, only not as massive in scale of human quantity. Depending on how the trip goes in total I may end up back there for IIDX playing, at least if I don’t find any other place that has 20G springs.
Day 3 - Akihabara
With the travels out of the way, it was time to keep things more regionalized and stick to one area, and there is shopping that needs to be done, so it was off to Akihabara and to see how much of other posted tales hold true. The answer is that it is a lot of it. Kotobukiya can stand to open sooner than noon. Super Potato is indeed priced for a market which wants to snap up anything cheap - I at least found Xi for under 500 and felt that it would have been a bit silly to buy only that, but it didn’t make spending 2000 on one single issue of Arcadia any better. I had no idea that Hey Arcade was right next to both of them; while it was assuredly nice to be there and see the row of Cave shooters among everything else, something got messed up with my registration of my new eamuse card with everything else, so that quickly added to my stress. Having to carry around a few hundred dollars worth of crap with every step didn’t help matters. At least I was able to help a person recover their lost phone by applying a bit of logic to the situation and deducing it to belong to the only person there who looked French, as it was on the Lock Screen. They were relieved, yes. Then, rain came, and it was more than I was anticipating, and I left the umbrella at the room, particularly since I knew I’d be shopping this day. It also turns out to have not mattered much, because I went to visit Bic Camera so that I could get myself a hair trimmer while here, and that turned into me finding a bunch of Kit Kats available, so that meant a second bag. The wind kicked out the rain and my umbrella. In trying to get as many gifts secured as possible, I found some gachapon, but it needed 100Y coins, and I didn’t need paper money in the trip yet. After fighting with maps, I found an ATM to get cash, and got the gachapon. I came home late with feeling rather crushed about the day in that I couldn’t take pictures very well with having to juggle weather and bagging considerations. There were some nice parts of the experience to be sure but between that and more gawking at Super Potato pricing ($135 for PS3 Caladrius? $6000 for Pulstar?) and seeing similar markups on other goods, I don’t think it’s unfair to say that there is a reputation that this area carries and the pricing is there to go with it.
Day 4 - Laundry Day. Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku
I was so drained at the end of Day 3 that I fell asleep on the bed immediately after ending the night call, which meant that I woke up at 0200AM to a room that was fully lit. This meant that I needed to look up how to resolve my eamuse problem or else I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. I did both. Awake at 0800AM meant that I had time to do laundry while I figured out what to do with the rest of the day. This meant that I was able to get more of Sugamo in pictures, and it was nice to be able to walk among the actual residences, and do other things like come across a school as it was actually in session. With them being close by and all in succession, I figured to get Shibuya, Harajuku, and Shinjuku visited. It turns out to have been a good day for it, as the temperature was perfectly cool and no rain came, and the sun came out only for a little bit. Shibuya somehow doesn’t seem quite as large in scope in person but the crowds were definitely there, and it is much more hilly than I anticipated as well. After wandering around and not seeing any arcade for a bit, I came across a series of coffee and cookie shops and remained strong to not indulge. It was there while looking at a Disney store (which gets tourists to take pictures of it for some reason) that the song Alone Again came on through the nearby public speakers. What timing. It drove me to finally get a treat for myself, and the frozen latte (black sesame and houji) and croissant (dark chocolate filing) were certainly good, it ended up costing more than the dinner I’d have later this day. I found a seclusion with a garbage can to eat the food and not carry the trash around, then an arcade soon after, and it was time to determine if I could fix the problem. Just like an easy click, it was. New to trash. Old to new. Done. Why did it have to be this way. Harajuku came next, and the environment there was distinct. This one in particular felt like it was an extended carnival atmosphere with the single tight knit market street and emphasis on fashion. A conversation with a freelance artist in the subway actually went well enough that I didn’t feel dumb. The same sensation carried to Shinjuku as well, only it was more spread out. Kabuki street was interesting to see in person, and I didn’t get any unseemly vibes from the place. Maybe it’s different later at night. A return home at a reasonable time allowed me to go down Sugamo’s market street a bit; most of it was closed, but it was interesting to come across the few remaining stores that were open by 0800PM, and more so the one that wasn’t. Coming back to the hotel I found a 24 hour ramen shop with nobody inside. The chef didn’t want to speak and only pointed to the ordering kiosk when I addressed her. The food came through a slot in the obscured window. At least her thank you as I left was a bit more warm, and the food was certainly delicious. To match with the matcha dessert that I bought from Sugamo station, I swung by a 7Eleven to get a drink, and found a milk tea for cheaper than a vending machine. The overhead music in the store was an instrumental version of Alone Again.
Day 5. Ibaraki - Mount Tsukuba, Miraidaira. Kashiwa, Chiba. Akihabara 2.
Awake at 0500AM on my own and knowing the current forecast meant that my envisioned plan for the day was quickly realized. Reaching the Tsukuba Express starting point from Akihabara needs you to get very far down into the ground before getting out into sunlight. I was on the ride early enough to see schoolchildren going about their commute, some of them being no older than ten and going about it unaccompanied. The people of Tsukuba seemed to be particularly helpful and cheerful that day, even despite my Suica issues at the gate. I didn’t ask his name at the counter but the man at the service desk was eager to speak with me about my career and what I was doing there. One asked where I was from on the way up to the summit and another caught my cable car ticket on the way down. There had to have been a few of them who saw my doing this climb in my business attire and thinking me to be a complete idiot if not outright mocking them for doing it that way while they employed the use of dual walking sticks and the like. I know I read some reports of the home stretch being difficult, but it did get pretty close to being an actual rock climb instead of a trail hike for that part of it. A quick stop to Miraidaira on the way back to get the Ibaraki play. The way the town center greets you upon leaving the rail gate struck me as incredible, as well as for how quiet it was. It was like walking onto a movie set. I did find the sweet shop after the play, and that was another painful interaction yet again. Oh well. Two quick stops down Tsukuba Express and one across from Tobu Urban Park line was enough to have a toe in Chiba, and I didn’t even need to leave the physical building of the train station to get to the basement level to find a machine for a play. Thank you, Kashiwa, you were great. Gunma is all that’s left. The descent from Tsukuba did take some earnest exertion, and after doing that the two stops, that put me back in Akihabara about when I anticipated; what I failed to anticipate is how much that place seems to drain on me. I think I just need to eat at an actual dinner time. Once I got back to Sugamo and had food it was a bit better, but while in Akihabara and being around that environment, and not finding things on a shopping list, I found myself just standing still and watching life pass me by. I hemmed and hawed a while for a maid girl’s hour of service for chitchat, but eventually I talked myself out of it because I just didn’t want potential trouble, just like her name. Komaru. I thought about doing this once just to say that I did, but I ultimately decided against it. You cannot go to this place with the expectation that you will find anything unless it is advertised and new. If you are looking for anything used, don’t count on it being there. You also cannot go there without having a strong resolve to not engage with the touts, because it becomes disheartening to see them do their job and blankly stare at the world when they're forced to stand out there and do nothing. Back to Sugamo to find a place that advertised Wagyu but the price they wanted was more than I wanted to spend. The ramen and seaweed & rice servings were fine, but they advertised endless drink and I didn’t receive that. All for $20? No, son. I did better than that elsewhere, I’ll know better now. Long day.
Day 6 - Tokyo Flea Market, Nakano Broadway, Ueno.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this weekend. I’ve read reports that the flea market held near the horse race track will be arbitrarily cancelled regardless of what is reported on the website, but my gut instinct told me that it would occur today, and it did. Turns out that a flea market is a flea market which is a flea market, no matter where it happens. Same allotment of clothes and stuff that few people really want to buy, although I was able to find myself some neckties at least. I probably overpaid based on what I saw later in the route, but that’s fine. They look nice. I settled on some shot glasses for a gift as well, but I’m surprised that I can’t ind something ornate that isn’t part of a sake set. Seated in the shade with a chocolate churro while rap music played in the background - it’s like I never left home. A woman came to sit across from me for the sake of sitting down; she was from Holland and today’s her last day in the country. Her husband came with food eventually. She had three weeks here and went to several places (allegedly, she didn’t list them out) and I asked her about Nakano Broadway. She didn’t make it there. It’s a good thing that I did - this is probably the kind of environment and market that people expect of Akihabara now, and maybe that’s how Aki was years ago, but it’s different from this. What’s more interesting is that Mandarake has a larger presence here than in Akihabara (so it seems to me), and their stores had floor after floor of any and every kind of pop culture product that’s been made in the past sixty years at least. Buttress that with extensive watch and jewelry stores and a slender arcade in the basement, and it’s a very well centralized microcosm of the country’s economy on the whole. I actually made a point to have dinner earlier than usual this time and found a place to serve some deep fried pork cuts served with rice and soup on the side. It was enough, and very well made. The day had not ended and my bag was heavy with several books purchased there, so I reported back to base briefly and decided to try visiting somewhere else, and settled on Ueno. Just as I arrived, a festival was underway where local teams of people made an elaborate show of carrying a home made shrine to a temple. Streets were officially blocked by police to allow the procession. In following the line I came up against makeshift food and amusement stands with the traditional toy gun shooting and goldfish catching. It appears that this is an official “start of summer” festival and I was able to watch it all happen in front of me. That was the good part of the day.
Day 7 - Tachikawa / Kunitachi. Shinjuku 2.
One of the games that I've never played is Beatmania III The Final. I've played some BM3 7th Mix years ago, but not The Final. I found a location that has one - World Game Circus in Tachikawa. In looking around that area before the trip, I saw that there was a nearby shinkansen museum, and not much else, so I figured that going to both places would make that walk worthwhile. Turns out that it wasn’t a museum in the proper sense of a dedicated building. Rather, it was a bullet train engine car on the side of a building that was unrelated, and that was it. A cute interaction happened here - when I approached the car, I heard some children running around inside, so I approached cautiously without knowing if I was encroaching upon someone else's alloted time or something. Once the children saw me, they gave a hearty irrashaimase as I entered, and the boy stamped a paper and presented it to me. Perfect. Despite it not being a typical musem, the card did have some interesting content, and it's good to see some kind of commemoration for their achievements and progression in that industry regardless. They have a lot to be proud about there. Off to WGC. Maps wasn’t lying about the walk taking twenty minutes. It's a good thing that I looked it up on streetview beforehand, because I otherwise would have walked right past it without knowing it was there. Then there it was, and there I confronted a past that I couldn’t visit again. Sure, I got to play BM3 The Final at last, but my timing was off, my hands were off, there wasn’t much I could do. Along with that I can say that I’ve played on a Beatmania II cabinet, and that was better than 5th Style at least. But that was it, that was all I could stand to do. It was right there and I couldn’t bear to put up with it more than a few rounds at best. Dream big, because only disappointment follows if your smaller dreams ever are fulfilled. I don’t know why finding IKEA back in Shinjuku was so difficult, but it took a while. I bought a bag, and then I bought a bag because the other bag was at the end of the register, which makes sense. I did feed myself before getting back to the Taito station to play some songs, but it still wasn’t good enough. All thumbs. Ended the day with laundry since the timing worked. Speaking of making dreams big, it’s time to cross another one off the list tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Day 8 - Takasaki, Gunma. Oomiya, Saitama 2.
It’s a good thing that I only needed to get to Ikebukuro to transfer over to the next stop, because that’s where that particular run ended for some reason. I wonder what was up. Speaking of things getting messed up on trains, I managed to find my way on a train that needed a separate ticket, which I didn't have. The conductor found me right away and had me disembark at Uraja for me to wait for the proper transfer. The weather forecast said there’d be rain, and the travel forecast said it would take two hours to get there, and neither lied. I feel like I had more people staring at me in Gunma than other places. I will say that I found the Takasaki station area to be rather charming, with the stores that it had inside and the emphasis on the music culture there. It’s one thing to offer a piano to the public to play, but it’s another to have a public willing to use it. This location had both. Having what was essentially a Bic Camera built into the facility was a nice touch too. The Leisure Land arcade was sandwiched between other floors that had its own offering of gaming stuff, so that was an unexpected bit of a fun thing to look through. The area was clean and sparsely populated, and it wasn’t picked clean of all matter of things that would normally get snapped up, so that was interesting. Finally, I made it over to the machine. They had separate fans for each location. I got the songs and then the medals came, and that’s that. Kantou Seiou. I would have stayed a bit longer but I wanted to have the medals show up right away, and my internet wasn’t cooperating, so that’s all I could do. I think there was an Internet cafe that I could have used in the facility, but I didn’t want to deal with an awkward conversation. I did get some Lawson on the way out, as well as some trinkets from the local Gunma-chan store as well as some mini croissants and some macademia cookie things. More vocal awkwardness. Omiya was one of the stops on the way back, and I found a place to serve omrice, so that’s another one off the list. No shoes allowed inside. The value wasn’t there but the service was good enough, as was the flavor. The machines with the 20G springs are indeed legit. Back home in time for some McDonalds, and that’s another food-checklist item marked off. Takoyaki mayo dipping sauce - somehow it’s both salty and sweet. While returning to the hotel, I did happen to encounter an argument amongst two teenaged locals where the guy ended up half-heartedly kicking the girl and getting her to cry. I wonder what their argument was about. I didn’t play hero, but someone else did so enough to prevent an escalation and called the police over.
Day 9 - Sugamo, Tokyo Sky Tree, Akihabara 3, Kanda
Up early enough to decide that I should at least visit the Sky Tree while I'm there just to say that I did, and that I should visit the Sugamo street market upon its open since it was right there in front of me. I'm glad to have done so. With everything open, this felt more like what one would think to expect from a flea market environment that's operated and supported by the local populace. Small stores were open both sides of the street that go on for many blocks, and some tents and tables were set up to sell second hand goods as well. I was able to find someone selling a US Morgan dollar and he wanted only 2000Y for it, so that was an easy buy. If I would have known better to anticipate this area, I wouldn't have felt compelled to buy kitchy tourist crap that is expected as gifts elsewhere. If you are looking for a place to idly shop around that doesn't get extremely crowded and has an authentic local feel to it, consider making a point to come here. Off to Sky Tree. Getting the combo ticket for the second deck was worth it just for the lack of crowds on the upper area. If you're going to come here, consider getting a phone selfie stick or something of the kind so that you can take pictures against the windows without the structure scaffolding obstructing your view. On the subject of shopping again, this might be another area to consider visiting just for the sake of the specialty stores to be found here, such as those for chopsticks or hairpins. To close out the day, my wife reminded me to look for something from the Square Enix cafe, so that meant swinging by Akihabara yet again. Since it is within a walkway, it was a bit of a pain to find this place even with using maps, but I eventually found it and got what she wanted to find. Played some IIDX at Game Panic, which was surprisingly small and the one machine that was avaialble to play had some 2P turntable issues, so that didn't last all that long. Dinner was at a nearby place that specalized in tofu, so that was a good ramen serving with that infused. For the evening, I wandered south to Kanda to get night pictures, and found it to feel pretty similar to Ueno.
Day 10 - Ginza, Tokyo, Kanda & Akihabara 4
Launrdry in the morning. I also wanted to say that I went to Ginza in my time here, and I didn't research anywhere to go to keep it a surprise. It was a bit warmer and sunnier than usual that day, and I stuck to the main road for most of the walk, so I can't say that I found too many points of the interest along the path that I walked starting from Yurakucho station and heading out that way. High class store for high class people, and that's too rich for my peasant blood. Similarly for Tokyo proper itself, I suppose I'd have to needed to wander far away from the Yamanote vicinity to find points of interest there, as I didn't encounter anything that was remarkably distinctive here in comparison to other areas that I have previously seen. Continuing north across Nihonbashi brought me to Kanda and eventually to Akihabara yet again, as if it was a magnet that pulled me inside every time. For the sake of trying a different place I chose to play some IIDX at the Leisure Land arcade there, and I'm glad to have done that, as those machines were probably in the best coniditon that I encountered within that area. Dinner was at Tenkaippin, which I didn't realize until after I placed the order was cash only. The clerk didn't request it beforehand but I voluntarily left my passport there to show that I would return, and promptly went to the same ATM that I had found days prior in order to get the cash to pay for the bill.
Day 11 - Haneda T3, Nishi Nippori, Nippori, Uguisuidani, Otsuka, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukruo, home.
The end. I resolved to take the subway over to Haneda today to get the one luggage over there and stored, and it’s a good thing that I did - there’s no easy solution for getting over there without encountering a crowd. If anything I wonder if Yamanote is actually better. Regardless, I got that much done. With the day left to go, I ventured to Nishi Nippori and I needed to summon the map several times to make sure I found the location, as it was as obscure as it could get. Just a sign on the ground for the third floor, a stairway that led to the back, an elevator that had no decoration, a single room that housed everything. Arcade PCB kits on shelves, joystick panels in exposed boxes, nicotine odor from years past - it was like I was transported to 1995 upon entry, beyond the fact that the games weren’t as old. Most of them, they did have a lot going for SF3 3rd yet. I was able to take care of some game business in a hurry since I was the only one there. It was a very pleasant respite for play in comparison to most of the other sessions. The region itself felt much the same as this arcade - old and well worn, as in well lived. Venturing south to Nippori led me to stumble upon a shrine and cemetery just by following some stairs. Usuigudani was cleaner but mostly had hotels as points of interest. Back home to buy some mochi while mochi was for sale in midday. Then to Otsuka, thinking that I would wander to Ikebukuro, but I ended up wandering back to Sugamo instead. Whoops. Meal at Sugamo, then back out to return to Shibuya and Shinjuku at night to catch evening shots, when I hadn’t done so before at these places. Good thing I did that to get Golden Gai area shots at night. With the night winding down, I decided to have one last IIDX play at Round 1 in Ikebukuro to symbolically end where I started.
Ending arcade comments
· Although the upkeep is generally better and more consistent than the US, some machines will have hardware issues here too. I was surprised by the blurriness with some of the LM IIDX machines.
· Densha De Go on the propert large cabinet is nice but quickly becomes very expensive.
· Bombergirl is OK enough and having the dedicated detonator button that pops up for hitting the base is a cute touch.
· Chase Chase Jokers feels rather clunky and I'm not sure what the game is trying to do. Interesting side screen concept at least.
· Nostalgia is delightful and would probably find a small fanbase worldwide if it had more exposure.
· Favorite IIDX locations are Taito Station in Oomiya for the light keys and Leisure Land Akihabara for the high quality of the LMs there. Honorable mention goes to the Game Versus loctation in Nishi Nihonbashi, but that might not be worth it for a dedicated trip unless you go there first thing in the morning.
Ending overall comments
This was a life altering trip for me, as would be expected. While I'm glad to have made the journey, as to be expected, I will only want to return after making an extensive redoubled effort into speaking and hearing comprehension, because I know that I came across like a blubbering idiot so many times, and it's truly aggravating because I generally know what I want to say and most of the words that are used to say it, but it just doesn't come out of my mouth properly when it needs to be done.
I welcome any questions you may have, as that will help for me to recall the memories and have me write them down.
submitted by MisterAmmosart to JapanTravel [link] [comments]
Primary general points
· Getting Suica set on the phone and using it was generally painless. There were only two times where I needed to summon the help of a resident JR employee to clear up an issue with the gate not reading the card for some reason.
· Most vocal interaction which I had was the opposite of painless, because I continuously kept trying to speak Japanese and failing, and most people would realize that I was completely failing at it and responded with English (some with full on sentences, others with just a few words). There were a few rare times that I was able to express my intent in Japanese, receive a response, understand the response, and reply as necessary, but that was rare. Once English was invoked, I would stay with it, because that's what they were expecting. I've been self-studying the language for more than twenty years in varying degrees of intensity, and while my reading comprehesion seemed sufficient enough for this trip, and while I didn't expect my speaking to be as good because I don't have any opportunity to practice speaking, I came away bitterly disappointed in my vocal and speaking comprehension in terms of my interaction with people there. Even within the trip I could at least overhear common chitchat better, but any time I needed to converse with someone for some reason, I usually needed to have things repeated several times and broken down before I finally realized what was being said.
· You are going to be asked about separately buying a bag with every non-food purchase. Accept or immediately present one that you are carrying to indicate how your purchase shall be bagged.
· I never once had my passport requested for presentation.
· Only once did a person volutnarily reach out to address me, and it was just to ask me where I was from in English. Otherwise, everyone left me alone the entire time.
· Weather through the period was ideal. Mid to upper 70F/25C range and only a few days where it was rainy, and even then it wasn't a downpour. A while ago I personally resolved to only wear suits in public and I purchased a new pair of Mephisto shoes after hearing reports of the extensive walking causing problems for traveller's feet and shoes. My attire help up well; there were only a few times that I needed to avoid sunlight to not get too hot, and I have no issues to report from the shoes.
· I only got X'd out of a restaurant one time, and I think it's only because I wandered into it before it was ready for service. Otherwise, I never once waited in line for food, I never once went to restaurant more than once, and all food was acceptably priced for the portion and excellent for the quality.
For these per-day recounts, I wrote them contemporaneously at the end of each day, so you'll need to forgive me for some writing being in present tense and other writing being in past tense.
Day 1 - Travel, Sugamo, Ikebukuro
Non stop flight from Chicago OHare to Haneda. 12 hours. Good thing I usually don't watch movies, because that just means that all I needed to do was binge a few to make the trip go by.
Pre-trip research led me to choose APA Sugamo as my home base for the visit, and I think that it was a very fortuitious choice. I'll have more to say about it later.
Some awkward encounters happened right away upon checking in here. I was at the nearby Family Mart to buy some things and I didn’t catch that he was making sure I wanted a bag until he repeated it five times. Yes, I’ll take it. Before getting there I was coming down to ground level after checking into my room, and when that person saw that I would have been the only other person going down to the ground, they ducked right back out. I was warned on both of these kinds of things happening, so I guess it’s good to have that immediately out of the way. It would turn out that people deliberately avoiding me was rare throughout the trip.
Despite not sleeping on the trip, I had freshly arrived and had no sense of being tired, so once I had my stuff down, I went off to Ikebukuro right away. No picture or video truly conveys how crowded these areas can get. It can only be experienced in person to be understood.
I soon found Round One Ikebukruo and went right in. So dense and loud. It’s entirely alien to me to see no less than ten IIDX machines in operation and all of them in use. I dumped the money into random tickets, as I foresaw doing, but now I have to wonder if that was the right thing to do, or if it’s tied to that location. I guess I’ll find out.
The forecast is for rain so I need to be in a hurry to figure out where I’m going to go. There might be only one day left for me to get my time limited toys.
Day 2 - Kawasaki, Kanagawa - Utsunomiya, Tochigi - Oomiya, Saitama
My body decided that it only needed four hours of sleep this morning. Without doing more research, I somehow decided to assume that more of the Round One locations were close to 24 hours of operation much like Ikebukuro. Answer: no. I hopped on the train early and went to Shibuya first, but it was very quiet, so I decided to get some of the travels out of the way today and headed south to Kawasaki. I still needed to dawdle for a while until Silk Hat opened at 900AM, and when I finally was able to get inside, I was only able to verify that their store had several allotments of the campaign goods and all allotments were out. Played one round on a monitor that was surprisingly blurry, and I don’t know why that would be the case with a lightning model, but it was, so that was enough.
After doing all of that, I resolved to try to go to Chiba and Ibaraki afterwards. I figured that with Kanagawa and Tokyo likely all out, going to the outskirts would make more sense. However, there was an injury on one of the rails that threw everything off normal, and the train I found myself riding was bound for Utsunomiya instead. Seeing as how I was going to go there eventually, I rolled with it.
It doesn’t take too long to move away from Tokyo metropolitan area before you encounter more forest like areas and rice paddy fields. Halfway through the trip I noticed that two older women suddenly hopped off while the train was waiting to go to the next stop, and I followed them when I realized they found the express line. Utsunomiya has a substantial size to its area and buildings but it was very quiet on the streets there in midday. Walked a mile to Sega GIGO, found that they didn’t even have the goods tracker up. All out. Interesting buliding for it having several neon signs, all vintage and authentic at that. Getting to there from the south meant cutting through Saitama, so I knew I had enough time to make one last attempt there. Research shown two stores being near Oomiya station, so that’s where I ended up. Taito Station was immediately visible upon exit, and they have two IIDX machines specifically with 20 gram springs, which is closer to my home setup and that much lighter than standard 50 gram springs. The final hour drew near and I made one last visit to that city’s Round One. Unlike nearly every other place I went to so far, it only had one IIDX machine. However, and maybe because of that, their goods listing didn’t show everything as out. One painful language exchange later, I was able to discern that what I wanted was available. When you spend more than 3000 yen in a single credit, the game wants to verify if you really want to proceed. It does it again at 6000 and 9000. Yes, I really do. But, having made that money dump I was able to get my hands on the e-amuse card and poster with fifteen minutes left before the deadline. Mission complete. By this point in the day it was exceedingly difficult to even look at the screen so I was ready to come home, but not before getting some goods at the Oomiya Book Off and redeeming what I could for points at Round One Ikebukuro. By the end of the day the only thing that I could tolerate doing was to buy some chicken and nigiri from the nearby train station. Good enough. At that point in the day my body felt like it wants to rock back and forth after all the train riding done today. But, it ended up being worthwhile after all.
One nostalgic feeling I had the most strongly in the day was at the Utsunomiya location where the smell of it triggered past buried memories of yesteryear. I think I want to attribute it to the stronger second hand cigarette smell but I’m not sure - all the same I felt its presence strongly there. Also, I don’t see Oomiya (or really Saitama itself) mentioned as a fun place to go, but it might serve as an acceptable alternative to Ikebukuro, only not as massive in scale of human quantity. Depending on how the trip goes in total I may end up back there for IIDX playing, at least if I don’t find any other place that has 20G springs.
Day 3 - Akihabara
With the travels out of the way, it was time to keep things more regionalized and stick to one area, and there is shopping that needs to be done, so it was off to Akihabara and to see how much of other posted tales hold true. The answer is that it is a lot of it. Kotobukiya can stand to open sooner than noon. Super Potato is indeed priced for a market which wants to snap up anything cheap - I at least found Xi for under 500 and felt that it would have been a bit silly to buy only that, but it didn’t make spending 2000 on one single issue of Arcadia any better. I had no idea that Hey Arcade was right next to both of them; while it was assuredly nice to be there and see the row of Cave shooters among everything else, something got messed up with my registration of my new eamuse card with everything else, so that quickly added to my stress. Having to carry around a few hundred dollars worth of crap with every step didn’t help matters. At least I was able to help a person recover their lost phone by applying a bit of logic to the situation and deducing it to belong to the only person there who looked French, as it was on the Lock Screen. They were relieved, yes. Then, rain came, and it was more than I was anticipating, and I left the umbrella at the room, particularly since I knew I’d be shopping this day. It also turns out to have not mattered much, because I went to visit Bic Camera so that I could get myself a hair trimmer while here, and that turned into me finding a bunch of Kit Kats available, so that meant a second bag. The wind kicked out the rain and my umbrella. In trying to get as many gifts secured as possible, I found some gachapon, but it needed 100Y coins, and I didn’t need paper money in the trip yet. After fighting with maps, I found an ATM to get cash, and got the gachapon. I came home late with feeling rather crushed about the day in that I couldn’t take pictures very well with having to juggle weather and bagging considerations. There were some nice parts of the experience to be sure but between that and more gawking at Super Potato pricing ($135 for PS3 Caladrius? $6000 for Pulstar?) and seeing similar markups on other goods, I don’t think it’s unfair to say that there is a reputation that this area carries and the pricing is there to go with it.
Day 4 - Laundry Day. Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku
I was so drained at the end of Day 3 that I fell asleep on the bed immediately after ending the night call, which meant that I woke up at 0200AM to a room that was fully lit. This meant that I needed to look up how to resolve my eamuse problem or else I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. I did both. Awake at 0800AM meant that I had time to do laundry while I figured out what to do with the rest of the day. This meant that I was able to get more of Sugamo in pictures, and it was nice to be able to walk among the actual residences, and do other things like come across a school as it was actually in session. With them being close by and all in succession, I figured to get Shibuya, Harajuku, and Shinjuku visited. It turns out to have been a good day for it, as the temperature was perfectly cool and no rain came, and the sun came out only for a little bit. Shibuya somehow doesn’t seem quite as large in scope in person but the crowds were definitely there, and it is much more hilly than I anticipated as well. After wandering around and not seeing any arcade for a bit, I came across a series of coffee and cookie shops and remained strong to not indulge. It was there while looking at a Disney store (which gets tourists to take pictures of it for some reason) that the song Alone Again came on through the nearby public speakers. What timing. It drove me to finally get a treat for myself, and the frozen latte (black sesame and houji) and croissant (dark chocolate filing) were certainly good, it ended up costing more than the dinner I’d have later this day. I found a seclusion with a garbage can to eat the food and not carry the trash around, then an arcade soon after, and it was time to determine if I could fix the problem. Just like an easy click, it was. New to trash. Old to new. Done. Why did it have to be this way. Harajuku came next, and the environment there was distinct. This one in particular felt like it was an extended carnival atmosphere with the single tight knit market street and emphasis on fashion. A conversation with a freelance artist in the subway actually went well enough that I didn’t feel dumb. The same sensation carried to Shinjuku as well, only it was more spread out. Kabuki street was interesting to see in person, and I didn’t get any unseemly vibes from the place. Maybe it’s different later at night. A return home at a reasonable time allowed me to go down Sugamo’s market street a bit; most of it was closed, but it was interesting to come across the few remaining stores that were open by 0800PM, and more so the one that wasn’t. Coming back to the hotel I found a 24 hour ramen shop with nobody inside. The chef didn’t want to speak and only pointed to the ordering kiosk when I addressed her. The food came through a slot in the obscured window. At least her thank you as I left was a bit more warm, and the food was certainly delicious. To match with the matcha dessert that I bought from Sugamo station, I swung by a 7Eleven to get a drink, and found a milk tea for cheaper than a vending machine. The overhead music in the store was an instrumental version of Alone Again.
Day 5. Ibaraki - Mount Tsukuba, Miraidaira. Kashiwa, Chiba. Akihabara 2.
Awake at 0500AM on my own and knowing the current forecast meant that my envisioned plan for the day was quickly realized. Reaching the Tsukuba Express starting point from Akihabara needs you to get very far down into the ground before getting out into sunlight. I was on the ride early enough to see schoolchildren going about their commute, some of them being no older than ten and going about it unaccompanied. The people of Tsukuba seemed to be particularly helpful and cheerful that day, even despite my Suica issues at the gate. I didn’t ask his name at the counter but the man at the service desk was eager to speak with me about my career and what I was doing there. One asked where I was from on the way up to the summit and another caught my cable car ticket on the way down. There had to have been a few of them who saw my doing this climb in my business attire and thinking me to be a complete idiot if not outright mocking them for doing it that way while they employed the use of dual walking sticks and the like. I know I read some reports of the home stretch being difficult, but it did get pretty close to being an actual rock climb instead of a trail hike for that part of it. A quick stop to Miraidaira on the way back to get the Ibaraki play. The way the town center greets you upon leaving the rail gate struck me as incredible, as well as for how quiet it was. It was like walking onto a movie set. I did find the sweet shop after the play, and that was another painful interaction yet again. Oh well. Two quick stops down Tsukuba Express and one across from Tobu Urban Park line was enough to have a toe in Chiba, and I didn’t even need to leave the physical building of the train station to get to the basement level to find a machine for a play. Thank you, Kashiwa, you were great. Gunma is all that’s left. The descent from Tsukuba did take some earnest exertion, and after doing that the two stops, that put me back in Akihabara about when I anticipated; what I failed to anticipate is how much that place seems to drain on me. I think I just need to eat at an actual dinner time. Once I got back to Sugamo and had food it was a bit better, but while in Akihabara and being around that environment, and not finding things on a shopping list, I found myself just standing still and watching life pass me by. I hemmed and hawed a while for a maid girl’s hour of service for chitchat, but eventually I talked myself out of it because I just didn’t want potential trouble, just like her name. Komaru. I thought about doing this once just to say that I did, but I ultimately decided against it. You cannot go to this place with the expectation that you will find anything unless it is advertised and new. If you are looking for anything used, don’t count on it being there. You also cannot go there without having a strong resolve to not engage with the touts, because it becomes disheartening to see them do their job and blankly stare at the world when they're forced to stand out there and do nothing. Back to Sugamo to find a place that advertised Wagyu but the price they wanted was more than I wanted to spend. The ramen and seaweed & rice servings were fine, but they advertised endless drink and I didn’t receive that. All for $20? No, son. I did better than that elsewhere, I’ll know better now. Long day.
Day 6 - Tokyo Flea Market, Nakano Broadway, Ueno.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this weekend. I’ve read reports that the flea market held near the horse race track will be arbitrarily cancelled regardless of what is reported on the website, but my gut instinct told me that it would occur today, and it did. Turns out that a flea market is a flea market which is a flea market, no matter where it happens. Same allotment of clothes and stuff that few people really want to buy, although I was able to find myself some neckties at least. I probably overpaid based on what I saw later in the route, but that’s fine. They look nice. I settled on some shot glasses for a gift as well, but I’m surprised that I can’t ind something ornate that isn’t part of a sake set. Seated in the shade with a chocolate churro while rap music played in the background - it’s like I never left home. A woman came to sit across from me for the sake of sitting down; she was from Holland and today’s her last day in the country. Her husband came with food eventually. She had three weeks here and went to several places (allegedly, she didn’t list them out) and I asked her about Nakano Broadway. She didn’t make it there. It’s a good thing that I did - this is probably the kind of environment and market that people expect of Akihabara now, and maybe that’s how Aki was years ago, but it’s different from this. What’s more interesting is that Mandarake has a larger presence here than in Akihabara (so it seems to me), and their stores had floor after floor of any and every kind of pop culture product that’s been made in the past sixty years at least. Buttress that with extensive watch and jewelry stores and a slender arcade in the basement, and it’s a very well centralized microcosm of the country’s economy on the whole. I actually made a point to have dinner earlier than usual this time and found a place to serve some deep fried pork cuts served with rice and soup on the side. It was enough, and very well made. The day had not ended and my bag was heavy with several books purchased there, so I reported back to base briefly and decided to try visiting somewhere else, and settled on Ueno. Just as I arrived, a festival was underway where local teams of people made an elaborate show of carrying a home made shrine to a temple. Streets were officially blocked by police to allow the procession. In following the line I came up against makeshift food and amusement stands with the traditional toy gun shooting and goldfish catching. It appears that this is an official “start of summer” festival and I was able to watch it all happen in front of me. That was the good part of the day.
Day 7 - Tachikawa / Kunitachi. Shinjuku 2.
One of the games that I've never played is Beatmania III The Final. I've played some BM3 7th Mix years ago, but not The Final. I found a location that has one - World Game Circus in Tachikawa. In looking around that area before the trip, I saw that there was a nearby shinkansen museum, and not much else, so I figured that going to both places would make that walk worthwhile. Turns out that it wasn’t a museum in the proper sense of a dedicated building. Rather, it was a bullet train engine car on the side of a building that was unrelated, and that was it. A cute interaction happened here - when I approached the car, I heard some children running around inside, so I approached cautiously without knowing if I was encroaching upon someone else's alloted time or something. Once the children saw me, they gave a hearty irrashaimase as I entered, and the boy stamped a paper and presented it to me. Perfect. Despite it not being a typical musem, the card did have some interesting content, and it's good to see some kind of commemoration for their achievements and progression in that industry regardless. They have a lot to be proud about there. Off to WGC. Maps wasn’t lying about the walk taking twenty minutes. It's a good thing that I looked it up on streetview beforehand, because I otherwise would have walked right past it without knowing it was there. Then there it was, and there I confronted a past that I couldn’t visit again. Sure, I got to play BM3 The Final at last, but my timing was off, my hands were off, there wasn’t much I could do. Along with that I can say that I’ve played on a Beatmania II cabinet, and that was better than 5th Style at least. But that was it, that was all I could stand to do. It was right there and I couldn’t bear to put up with it more than a few rounds at best. Dream big, because only disappointment follows if your smaller dreams ever are fulfilled. I don’t know why finding IKEA back in Shinjuku was so difficult, but it took a while. I bought a bag, and then I bought a bag because the other bag was at the end of the register, which makes sense. I did feed myself before getting back to the Taito station to play some songs, but it still wasn’t good enough. All thumbs. Ended the day with laundry since the timing worked. Speaking of making dreams big, it’s time to cross another one off the list tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Day 8 - Takasaki, Gunma. Oomiya, Saitama 2.
It’s a good thing that I only needed to get to Ikebukuro to transfer over to the next stop, because that’s where that particular run ended for some reason. I wonder what was up. Speaking of things getting messed up on trains, I managed to find my way on a train that needed a separate ticket, which I didn't have. The conductor found me right away and had me disembark at Uraja for me to wait for the proper transfer. The weather forecast said there’d be rain, and the travel forecast said it would take two hours to get there, and neither lied. I feel like I had more people staring at me in Gunma than other places. I will say that I found the Takasaki station area to be rather charming, with the stores that it had inside and the emphasis on the music culture there. It’s one thing to offer a piano to the public to play, but it’s another to have a public willing to use it. This location had both. Having what was essentially a Bic Camera built into the facility was a nice touch too. The Leisure Land arcade was sandwiched between other floors that had its own offering of gaming stuff, so that was an unexpected bit of a fun thing to look through. The area was clean and sparsely populated, and it wasn’t picked clean of all matter of things that would normally get snapped up, so that was interesting. Finally, I made it over to the machine. They had separate fans for each location. I got the songs and then the medals came, and that’s that. Kantou Seiou. I would have stayed a bit longer but I wanted to have the medals show up right away, and my internet wasn’t cooperating, so that’s all I could do. I think there was an Internet cafe that I could have used in the facility, but I didn’t want to deal with an awkward conversation. I did get some Lawson on the way out, as well as some trinkets from the local Gunma-chan store as well as some mini croissants and some macademia cookie things. More vocal awkwardness. Omiya was one of the stops on the way back, and I found a place to serve omrice, so that’s another one off the list. No shoes allowed inside. The value wasn’t there but the service was good enough, as was the flavor. The machines with the 20G springs are indeed legit. Back home in time for some McDonalds, and that’s another food-checklist item marked off. Takoyaki mayo dipping sauce - somehow it’s both salty and sweet. While returning to the hotel, I did happen to encounter an argument amongst two teenaged locals where the guy ended up half-heartedly kicking the girl and getting her to cry. I wonder what their argument was about. I didn’t play hero, but someone else did so enough to prevent an escalation and called the police over.
Day 9 - Sugamo, Tokyo Sky Tree, Akihabara 3, Kanda
Up early enough to decide that I should at least visit the Sky Tree while I'm there just to say that I did, and that I should visit the Sugamo street market upon its open since it was right there in front of me. I'm glad to have done so. With everything open, this felt more like what one would think to expect from a flea market environment that's operated and supported by the local populace. Small stores were open both sides of the street that go on for many blocks, and some tents and tables were set up to sell second hand goods as well. I was able to find someone selling a US Morgan dollar and he wanted only 2000Y for it, so that was an easy buy. If I would have known better to anticipate this area, I wouldn't have felt compelled to buy kitchy tourist crap that is expected as gifts elsewhere. If you are looking for a place to idly shop around that doesn't get extremely crowded and has an authentic local feel to it, consider making a point to come here. Off to Sky Tree. Getting the combo ticket for the second deck was worth it just for the lack of crowds on the upper area. If you're going to come here, consider getting a phone selfie stick or something of the kind so that you can take pictures against the windows without the structure scaffolding obstructing your view. On the subject of shopping again, this might be another area to consider visiting just for the sake of the specialty stores to be found here, such as those for chopsticks or hairpins. To close out the day, my wife reminded me to look for something from the Square Enix cafe, so that meant swinging by Akihabara yet again. Since it is within a walkway, it was a bit of a pain to find this place even with using maps, but I eventually found it and got what she wanted to find. Played some IIDX at Game Panic, which was surprisingly small and the one machine that was avaialble to play had some 2P turntable issues, so that didn't last all that long. Dinner was at a nearby place that specalized in tofu, so that was a good ramen serving with that infused. For the evening, I wandered south to Kanda to get night pictures, and found it to feel pretty similar to Ueno.
Day 10 - Ginza, Tokyo, Kanda & Akihabara 4
Launrdry in the morning. I also wanted to say that I went to Ginza in my time here, and I didn't research anywhere to go to keep it a surprise. It was a bit warmer and sunnier than usual that day, and I stuck to the main road for most of the walk, so I can't say that I found too many points of the interest along the path that I walked starting from Yurakucho station and heading out that way. High class store for high class people, and that's too rich for my peasant blood. Similarly for Tokyo proper itself, I suppose I'd have to needed to wander far away from the Yamanote vicinity to find points of interest there, as I didn't encounter anything that was remarkably distinctive here in comparison to other areas that I have previously seen. Continuing north across Nihonbashi brought me to Kanda and eventually to Akihabara yet again, as if it was a magnet that pulled me inside every time. For the sake of trying a different place I chose to play some IIDX at the Leisure Land arcade there, and I'm glad to have done that, as those machines were probably in the best coniditon that I encountered within that area. Dinner was at Tenkaippin, which I didn't realize until after I placed the order was cash only. The clerk didn't request it beforehand but I voluntarily left my passport there to show that I would return, and promptly went to the same ATM that I had found days prior in order to get the cash to pay for the bill.
Day 11 - Haneda T3, Nishi Nippori, Nippori, Uguisuidani, Otsuka, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukruo, home.
The end. I resolved to take the subway over to Haneda today to get the one luggage over there and stored, and it’s a good thing that I did - there’s no easy solution for getting over there without encountering a crowd. If anything I wonder if Yamanote is actually better. Regardless, I got that much done. With the day left to go, I ventured to Nishi Nippori and I needed to summon the map several times to make sure I found the location, as it was as obscure as it could get. Just a sign on the ground for the third floor, a stairway that led to the back, an elevator that had no decoration, a single room that housed everything. Arcade PCB kits on shelves, joystick panels in exposed boxes, nicotine odor from years past - it was like I was transported to 1995 upon entry, beyond the fact that the games weren’t as old. Most of them, they did have a lot going for SF3 3rd yet. I was able to take care of some game business in a hurry since I was the only one there. It was a very pleasant respite for play in comparison to most of the other sessions. The region itself felt much the same as this arcade - old and well worn, as in well lived. Venturing south to Nippori led me to stumble upon a shrine and cemetery just by following some stairs. Usuigudani was cleaner but mostly had hotels as points of interest. Back home to buy some mochi while mochi was for sale in midday. Then to Otsuka, thinking that I would wander to Ikebukuro, but I ended up wandering back to Sugamo instead. Whoops. Meal at Sugamo, then back out to return to Shibuya and Shinjuku at night to catch evening shots, when I hadn’t done so before at these places. Good thing I did that to get Golden Gai area shots at night. With the night winding down, I decided to have one last IIDX play at Round 1 in Ikebukuro to symbolically end where I started.
Ending arcade comments
· Although the upkeep is generally better and more consistent than the US, some machines will have hardware issues here too. I was surprised by the blurriness with some of the LM IIDX machines.
· Densha De Go on the propert large cabinet is nice but quickly becomes very expensive.
· Bombergirl is OK enough and having the dedicated detonator button that pops up for hitting the base is a cute touch.
· Chase Chase Jokers feels rather clunky and I'm not sure what the game is trying to do. Interesting side screen concept at least.
· Nostalgia is delightful and would probably find a small fanbase worldwide if it had more exposure.
· Favorite IIDX locations are Taito Station in Oomiya for the light keys and Leisure Land Akihabara for the high quality of the LMs there. Honorable mention goes to the Game Versus loctation in Nishi Nihonbashi, but that might not be worth it for a dedicated trip unless you go there first thing in the morning.
Ending overall comments
This was a life altering trip for me, as would be expected. While I'm glad to have made the journey, as to be expected, I will only want to return after making an extensive redoubled effort into speaking and hearing comprehension, because I know that I came across like a blubbering idiot so many times, and it's truly aggravating because I generally know what I want to say and most of the words that are used to say it, but it just doesn't come out of my mouth properly when it needs to be done.
I welcome any questions you may have, as that will help for me to recall the memories and have me write them down.
2024.05.18 21:19 2Vibed Found these at thrift store in Mooresville, NC.
 | Anything noteworthy? submitted by 2Vibed to NASCARCollectors [link] [comments] |
2024.05.18 21:16 RetailPleb Custom Teams Away Message
Teams allows users to set a custom away message, up to 280 characters. You also have the option to show this message above the text box where they compose their message to you before they send it, ensuring they see your status.
I've decided I need to take advantage of this and put ridiculous things there. I've got a running list of messages to use which I'll cycle through daily.
Some are original, most are not. A lot are taken from pop culture references, TV shows, commercials, podcasts, etc. Some are niche and very work specific (I use SAP) but most are absurd and nonsensical.
Please help me brainstorm custom away messages to entertain and confuse anyone who messages me.
Here's what I've got so far:
submitted by RetailPleb to brainstorming [link] [comments]
I've decided I need to take advantage of this and put ridiculous things there. I've got a running list of messages to use which I'll cycle through daily.
Some are original, most are not. A lot are taken from pop culture references, TV shows, commercials, podcasts, etc. Some are niche and very work specific (I use SAP) but most are absurd and nonsensical.
Please help me brainstorm custom away messages to entertain and confuse anyone who messages me.
Here's what I've got so far:
- Did you check LT23 first?
- Ask me about SLED extensions!
- Warning: You are messaging someone known to the catholic archdiocese to be a condemned heretic.
- Did you know? One of the function keys on your computer controls the sliding doors to a grocery store in Burbank California.
- Did you know? The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.
- The captain has turned off the fasten seatbelts sign.
- It's 10 o'clock. Do you know where your children are?
- To the owner of a red four-door sedan, you left your lights on.
- And that's the way it is.
- Just the facts, ma'am.
- I thinkn't therefore I amn't.
- I’m the real slim shady.
- Danger, Will Robinson!
- Pardon me, would you have any grey poupon?
- Is it just me or do the clouds seem more judgmental lately?
- We’ve been trying to reach you regarding your cars extended warranty.
- As an AI language model, ___ can make various types of mistakes. Some common ones include..."
- From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Today on our program, an inventory technician that can't find what he's looking for, a boss that has to tell one of his employees to quit doing this, and more. Stay with us.
- Ingredients: Zinc Trisodium, Aspartate, Sorbatale and Bisulfate, Oxide Beta Caratine, Lactic Acid, Carab Bean, Grade A milk emulsified, Malto-dextrin alkalide, Silicon deoxylite, Calcified synthetic salt, Artificial barley malt, Glycerine and aspartate, Folic acid...
- I'm filling in for Clifford Banes who is staying off the grid until things cool down.
- I'm filling in for Clifford Banes who messed with the wrong people and got himself involved in some serious stuff.
- I'm filling in for Clifford Banes who is racing to the airport to catch the woman he loves.
- I'm filling in for Clifford Banes who is the new mayor of Baltimore.
- Dress for success. Put on your tall hat, and rubber gloves, and long grey coat. Success requires this specific outfit.
- There are two wolves inside you. One of them wants an order cancelled. The other also has a different order they need cancelled too.
- Be sure to like, comment, and subscribe, and hit that bell icon.
- I bring a silly goose energy to the workplace that the serious geese don’t appreciate.
- Bananas are hardly that slippery. But watch your step anyway.
- By messaging me you agree to the EULA.
- Today's air quality is mauve and speckled.
- "I’m Batman." -Batman
- No soup for you!
- Now in Technicolor!
- It’s pronounced gif.
- Gone fishing.
- Busy counting paperclips.
- Now available gluten free!
- If it’s urgent, please mail a bag of Reese’s to me, I’ll respond immediately.
2024.05.18 20:00 Joanhasablackcat Aliesa is offering paid opportunity to User Generate Content
US-based UGC creators aged 20-35 with a car. Product for filming: key fob case & accessories set ($60 value). PM me your portfolio link and car brand/model. Thanks! (welcome to every race or sex, and the brand has a girly style)
submitted by Joanhasablackcat to Aeliesa [link] [comments]
2024.05.18 19:18 DunmerSeht NewStarGP Wishlist
I bought the game this week and It's already one of my favorite racing games of all time. I'm really loving it! My ultimate wish is that the Devs keep working on it (I would gladly buy any DLC packs), and... If they could make more racing games, like rally, derby or a Motorsport game (I would die).
My grounded wishlist for the future of NewStarGP would be:
submitted by DunmerSeht to NewStarGP [link] [comments]
My grounded wishlist for the future of NewStarGP would be:
More urban tracks (at night!)The game is already 10/10 as it is! I would like just MORE OF IT!
More colouring styles for the cars.
The option to choose the name of the team (sorry guys).
A bunch of non-F1 Tracks (like Laguna Seca, for example).
Perhaps even older car models!
Options to "freely" provoke rivals outside of races.
2024.05.18 19:16 MilesFassst How do you know what you’re good at?
TL:DR (42m) still haven’t found my calling. Everything I enjoy doing I’m not really exceptional at. Personality tests just say Type 1 personality. Perfectionist with acute OCD and ADHD. And the only advice it gives is to NOT do sales…
As a teenager I dreamed of becoming a professional race car driver. But never had rich parents or the contacts needed to break into the sport. My alternate was video game design. I’m very good at math, but quickly learned I’m horrible at physics which was a mandatory class. So i switched to digital media. I enjoy creating. Mostly video editing. But I’m by no means good at it.
For example: if you’re good at acting, become movie star. Or even B List celebrities are making a killing. If you’re good at sports become a professional athlete, if you’re good at singing or playing an instrument be in a successful band. Good at lying and have no morals, become a con artist and make billions. I mean i just want to find what I’m good at so i can be successful. Can’t find any legitimate advice online.
I’ve tried a multitude of professions. I work mostly in the maintenance field, but nothing that will make me millions of dollars. I’m looking for advice on how to find what I’m actually good at so i can be successful. So far no luck. For reference IQ between 125-145 depending on IQ test so I’m not completely stupid.
P.S. despite my advice average intelligence I’m very bad at vocabulary and writing. Also a complete scatterbrained which definitely slows down progress when working on a project for YouTube or other media outlets. Adhd and perfectionist does not blend well. Thanks for trying in advance, i don’t expect to find the answer here. But at this point i have nothing to lose!
submitted by MilesFassst to Advice [link] [comments]
As a teenager I dreamed of becoming a professional race car driver. But never had rich parents or the contacts needed to break into the sport. My alternate was video game design. I’m very good at math, but quickly learned I’m horrible at physics which was a mandatory class. So i switched to digital media. I enjoy creating. Mostly video editing. But I’m by no means good at it.
For example: if you’re good at acting, become movie star. Or even B List celebrities are making a killing. If you’re good at sports become a professional athlete, if you’re good at singing or playing an instrument be in a successful band. Good at lying and have no morals, become a con artist and make billions. I mean i just want to find what I’m good at so i can be successful. Can’t find any legitimate advice online.
I’ve tried a multitude of professions. I work mostly in the maintenance field, but nothing that will make me millions of dollars. I’m looking for advice on how to find what I’m actually good at so i can be successful. So far no luck. For reference IQ between 125-145 depending on IQ test so I’m not completely stupid.
P.S. despite my advice average intelligence I’m very bad at vocabulary and writing. Also a complete scatterbrained which definitely slows down progress when working on a project for YouTube or other media outlets. Adhd and perfectionist does not blend well. Thanks for trying in advance, i don’t expect to find the answer here. But at this point i have nothing to lose!
2024.05.18 19:09 Bbpowrr Good pages to follow on IG for learning mechanic stuff?
Hi guys, I'm very new to doing work on my own car, I'd love to hear some suggestions of good pages to follow on Instagram to learn mechanic knowledge / tips to help me scale up from complete novice to proficient and confident enough to work on my own car.
I am already watching a lot on YouTube and reading on forums a lot, but I like passively learning whilst on social media, so would really appreciate any suggestions.
Thanks!
Year - 2009, Make - BMW, Model - E90 318d, Engine size - 2L, Transmission - Auto
submitted by Bbpowrr to AskMechanics [link] [comments]
I am already watching a lot on YouTube and reading on forums a lot, but I like passively learning whilst on social media, so would really appreciate any suggestions.
Thanks!
Year - 2009, Make - BMW, Model - E90 318d, Engine size - 2L, Transmission - Auto
2024.05.18 17:44 gone_sleeping What to do when repair cost exceeds cost of devices but it’s not practical lowering prices?
I’m in the mobile phone repair field doing circuit board repairs on iPhones, androids, etc. Lately the industry has been struggling for one of two reasons:
submitted by gone_sleeping to smallbusiness [link] [comments]
- Race to the bottom from competitors completely devalued the industry. Repairs as low as $80 for jobs that literally take 2-5 hours. Now when a customer hears $200+ they think it’s a rip off. And for the record the $80-$150 repairs are garbage. Ask anyone in the industry. It’s like saying we can rebuild your car’s engine for $200! When the reality is no one’s going to take the time to do that or without cutting corners.
- Carriers making it easier for people to simply upgrade their devices rather than repair. This gives the illusion that newer phones are less expensive yet they’re stuck in never ending contracts jumping from model to model. The $80 a month fee looks cheaper on paper that’s for sure
2024.05.18 15:44 Screwdatt Todays Games and PPV Events
https://discord.gg/ygh87phpwx Trials available
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 1: Fury vs Usyk FHD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 2: Fury vs Usyk HD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 3: Fury vs Usyk SD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 4: Fury vs Usyk HEVC FHD
PPV BOXING 01: Fury vs Usyk
PPV BOXING 01: Fury vs Usyk FHD
PPV BOXING 02: Fury vs Usyk HD
PPV BOXING 03: Fury vs Usyk SD
PPV BOXING 04: Fury vs Usyk
PPV BOXING 05: Fury vs Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 02 - 10AM/12PM Fury v Usyk USA ET
PPV LIVE EVENT 03 - (SD) Fury v Usyk USA ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV UFC PACK ===
PPV UFC 00: PRELIMS : Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET
PPV UFC 01: UFC FIGHT NIGHT: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET
PPV UFC 02: FIGHT NIGHT:Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [ESPN+]
PPV UFC 03: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [ESPANOL]
PPV UFC 04: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [FR]
PPV UFC 05: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [STARZPLAY]
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV LIVE EVENT PACK ===
PPV LIVE EVENT 01 - 4/7PM UFC Fight Night Barboza v Murphy
PPV LIVE EVENT 02 - 10AM/12PM Fury v Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 03 - (SD) Fury v Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 04 - 10AM UAE Warriors 50
PPV LIVE EVENT 05 - 12PM ADCC Phoenix Open
PPV LIVE EVENT 06 - 12:30/2PM Glory 92
PPV LIVE EVENT 07 - 2:50PM Petrosyan v Sanchez
PPV LIVE EVENT 08 - 7PM Navarrete v Berinchyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 09 - 7PM Boxing Next Generation Kissimmee
PPV LIVE EVENT 10 - 7PM Centurion FC 20
PPV LIVE EVENT 11 - 8PM GCW Most Notorious
PPV LIVE EVENT 12 - 9:30PM Combate Global Gonzalez v Lehane (en Espanol)
PPV LIVE EVENT 13 - 12PM Superbikes MotoAmerica Barber
PPV LIVE EVENT 14 - 12PM AMSOIL Off Road Dirt City
PPV LIVE EVENT 15 - 5:30PM Clyde Martin Memorial Sprints
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV LIVE EVENT 16 - 6PM Weekly Racing Utica Rome
PPV LIVE EVENT 17 - 6PM Weekly Racing Port Royal
PPV LIVE EVENT 18 - 6:15PM World of Outlaws Late Models
PPV LIVE EVENT 19 - 6:30PM Wayne County 410 Sprints
PPV LIVE EVENT 20 - 6:30PM Fireworks Night Eldora
PPV LIVE EVENT 21 - 6:45PM IRA Sprints Plymouth Dirt Track
PPV LIVE EVENT 22 - 7PM MARS Late Models Highland
PPV LIVE EVENT 23 - 7:30PM USAC Huncovsky Classic Belleville
PPV LIVE EVENT 24 - 7:30PM ARCA East Flat Rock
PPV LIVE EVENT 25 - 8PM USCS Sprint Cars Bakersfield
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FA PLAYER PACK ===
PPV FA PLAYER 01 : Aston Villa vs Manchester City // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 02 : Manchester United vs Chelsea // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 03 : Leicester City vs Liverpool // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 04 : Tottenham Hotspur vs West Ham United // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 05 : Bristol City vs Everton // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 06 : Arsenal vs Brighton & Hove Albion // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV MOLA PACK ===
PPV MOLA EVENT 01 : Semi-Final Leg 2: Wellington Phoenix vs Melbourne Victory start:2024-05-18 07:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:40:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 01 : LPGA - Mizuho Americas Open - Round 3 start:2024-05-18 19:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 02 : Road to UFC Season 3 : Episode 1 & 2 start:2024-05-18 11:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 02 : UFC Fight Night: Barboza vs Murphy start:2024-05-18 20:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 03 : 2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs - Round 2 Game 6 : Vancouver Canucks at Edmonton Oilers start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FLO RUGBY PACK ===
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Western Force vs NSW Waratahs start:2024-05-18 10:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:30:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Ospreys vs Dragons start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Ulster Rugby vs Leinster Rugby start:2024-05-18 19:35:00 stop:2024-05-18 23:35:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Blues vs Highlanders start:2024-05-18 08:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 12:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Vodacom Bulls vs Benetton Rugby start:2024-05-18 13:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Connacht Rugby vs DHL Stormers start:2024-05-18 17:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:05:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO RUGBY 02 : 2024 Montpellier Herault Rugby vs Stade Toulousain start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 02 : 2024 Stade Rochelais vs Section Paloise start:2024-05-18 20:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:05:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 03 : 2024 Emirates Lions vs Glasgow Warriors start:2024-05-18 15:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:05:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 04 : 2024 Lyon OU vs Racing 92 start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 05 : 2024 ASM Clermont Auvergne vs Castres Olympique start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 06 : 2024 Aviron Bayonnais vs Perpignan start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 07 : 2024 Oyonnax Rugby vs RC Toulonnais start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV SETANTA PACK ===
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Borussia Dortmund - Darmstadt start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : UFC Fight Night: Barboza vs. Murphy - Main Card start:2024-05-18 23:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Sassuolo - Cagliari start:2024-05-19 11:25:00 stop:2024-05-19 13:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Monza - Frosinone start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Union Berlin - Freiburg start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Dallas Mavericks - Oklahoma City Thunder start:2024-05-19 00:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Cerlce Brugge - Royale Union SG start:2024-05-19 12:25:00 stop:2024-05-19 14:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Brentford - Newcastle start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Hoffenheim - Bayern Munich start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Crawley - Crewe start:2024-05-19 12:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 15:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Brighton - Manchester United start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 04 : Bayer Leverkusen - Augsburg start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 04 : Udinese - Empoli start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 05 : Eintracht Frankfurt - RB Leipzig start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 05 : Emilia Romagna Grand Prix - Race start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 06 : Wolfsburg - Mainz start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 06 : Arsenal - Everton start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 07 : Stuttgart - Borussia Monchengladbach start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 07 : Burnley - Nottingham start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 08 : Heidenheim - FC Koln start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 09 : Multiview start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 10 : Werder Bremen - Bochum start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FLO SPORTS PACK ===
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 00 : FloWrestling Radio Live start:2024-05-19 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 Giro dItalia start:2024-05-18 13:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 FHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 USA Cycling Pro Road National Championships start:2024-05-19 13:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 17:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 02 : FloRacing 24/7 start:2024-05-12 10:00:00 stop:2024-11-10 06:59:59
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 4 Jours de Dunkerque start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 NMAA Outdoor Championships 4A-5A start:2024-05-18 21:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 USAC Huncovsky Classic at Belleville High Banks start:2024-05-19 01:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 Continental Tour: Tokyo - Seiko Golden Grand Prix start:2024-05-19 07:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 11:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 UCI MTB Bielsko Bialia Poland start:2024-05-19 12:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 Vuelta a Burgos Féminas start:2024-05-18 14:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 OSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 18:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 New England Knockouts vs Trois-Rivieres Aigles start:2024-05-18 23:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 Nutley vs NJ Aces start:2024-05-19 03:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 UCI MTB Eliminator World Cup in Palangkaraya start:2024-05-19 11:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 15:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 CHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 16:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 Ulster Rugby vs Leinster Rugby start:2024-05-18 20:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 IRA Sprints at Plymouth Dirt Track start:2024-05-19 00:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 IHSA Girls Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 Stade Rochelais vs Section Paloise start:2024-05-18 21:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 Kansas City Mavericks vs Toledo Walleye start:2024-05-19 01:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 CAA Rowing Championship start:2024-05-18 15:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 William & Mary vs Campbell start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 New York Boulders vs New Jersey Jackals start:2024-05-19 00:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 NCHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 Tropics vs Highlands Black start:2024-05-18 20:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 Fireworks Night at Eldora Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 UCI BMX Racing World Championships start:2024-05-18 18:50:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 Wayne (Peewee) vs Generals (Peewee) start:2024-05-18 23:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 Penticton Vees vs Surrey Eagles start:2024-05-19 04:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 08:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Blues vs Highlanders start:2024-05-18 09:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 13:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Vodacom Bulls vs Benetton Rugby start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Connacht Rugby vs DHL Stormers start:2024-05-18 18:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 NASCAR Whelen Modified Tour at Riverhead Raceway start:2024-05-18 22:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Sherwood Park Crusaders vs Brooks Bandits start:2024-05-19 03:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Western Force vs NSW Waratahs start:2024-05-18 11:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 15:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Ospreys vs Dragons start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Wayne (Squirt) vs Ramsey (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 20:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Washington Wild Things vs Tri-City ValleyCats start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 Frank E. Rader Southeast Regional Champs start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 Sharks vs Cardiff start:2024-05-18 18:15:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Jennerstown Speedway start:2024-05-18 23:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Veenendaal-Veenendaal start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Monmouth vs Hofstra start:2024-05-18 19:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 23:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Weekly Racing at Port Royal Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Montpellier Herault Rugby vs Stade Toulousain start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Saginaw Valley vs TBD - NCAA Baseball Midwest Regional start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Hockey Farm (MS) vs Generals White (MS) start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 Central Regional Championships start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Berlin Raceway start:2024-05-18 21:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 Joliet Slammers vs Evansville Otters start:2024-05-19 01:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 New Jersey Freestyle State Championship start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 TBD vs TBD - NCAA Baseball Southeast Regional start:2024-05-18 21:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 NARC Sprints at Thunderbowl Raceway start:2024-05-19 02:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 Villanova vs Xavier start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 Hockey Farm (Peewee) vs Paramus start:2024-05-18 21:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 USCS Sprint Cars at Bakersfield Speedway start:2024-05-19 02:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Emirates Lions vs Glasgow Warriors start:2024-05-18 16:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Florence Yalls vs Schaumburg Boomers start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Fargo Force vs Dubuque Fighting Saints start:2024-05-19 02:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 AMSOIL Off-Road Mayhem at the Motorplex start:2024-05-18 16:50:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 Hockey Farm (Squirt) vs Marauders (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 Bulldogs vs Hockey Farm (Varsity) start:2024-05-19 02:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 20 : 2024 Aviron Bayonnais vs Perpignan start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 20 : 2024 Staten Island FerryHawks vs Hagerstown Flying Boxcars start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 21 : 2024 ASM Clermont Auvergne vs Castres Olympique start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 21 : 2024 Weekly Racing at Utica-Rome Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 22 : 2024 Oyonnax Rugby vs RC Toulonnais start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 22 : 2024 Ottawa Titans vs Sussex County Miners start:2024-05-19 00:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 23 : 2024 Lyon OU vs Racing 92 start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 23 : 2024 Charleston Dirty Birds vs High Point Rockers start:2024-05-19 00:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 24 : 2024 ADCC Phoenix Open start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 24 : 2024 York Revolution vs Lancaster Stormers start:2024-05-19 00:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 25 : 2024 CA Assoc Duals start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 25 : 2024 MARS Late Models at Highland Speedway start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 26 : 2024 Ashland vs Northwood University - NCAA MW Regional start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 26 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Langley Speedway start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 27 : 2024 Continental Tour: ORLEN Janusz Kusocinski Memorial start:2024-05-18 17:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:55:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 27 : 2024 American Flat Track at Silver Dollar Short Track start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 28 : 2024 Seton Hall vs Creighton start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 28 : 2024 Lexington Legends vs Gastonia Baseball Club start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 29 : 2024 PNL Duals at Werner Park start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 29 : 2024 Florida Everblades vs Adirondack Thunder start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 30 : 2024 Young Harris vs UNC Pembroke - NCAA SE Regional start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 30 : 2024 Quebec Capitales vs Lake Erie Crushers start:2024-05-19 01:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 31 : 2024 Highlands Black vs Hockey Farm (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 18:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 31 : 2024 Long Island Ducks vs Southern Maryland Blue Crabs start:2024-05-19 01:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:05:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== AUSTRALIA STAN PACK ===
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : Force v Waratahs - Super Rugby Pacific Round 13 2024 start:2024-05-18 10:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 12:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : Bath v Northampton - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : New Zealand v Canada - Pacific Four Series 2024 start:2024-05-19 05:23:04 stop:2024-05-19 08:16:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Blues v Highlanders - Super Rugby Pacific Round 13 2024 start:2024-05-18 07:35:04 stop:2024-05-18 10:28:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Gloucester v Newcastle - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Sprint Race 2: Misano - GT World Challenge Europe 2024 start:2024-05-18 19:30:08 stop:2024-05-18 22:23:28
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 03 : Harlequins v Bristol - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 04 : Leicester v Exeter - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 05 : Saracens v Sale - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 06 : Sprint Race 1: Misano - GT World Challenge Europe 2024 start:2024-05-18 12:30:08 stop:2024-05-18 15:23:28
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 06 : Qualifying 1: Indianapolis 500 - INDYCAR 2024 start:2024-05-18 16:00:08 stop:2024-05-18 18:53:28
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK-AUSTRALIA OPTUS PACK ===
UK-AU OPTUS 01 : Aston Villa v Manchester City start:2024-05-18 14:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:20:00
UK-AU OPTUS 02 : Manchester United v Chelsea start:2024-05-18 14:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:20:00
UK-AU OPTUS 02 : Deportivo Alaves v Getafe start:2024-05-18 19:20:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:20:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK Amazon PACK ===
UK Amazon UK 00 : Australia Championship Supercars-Perth: Race 9 start:2024-05-18 08:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 12:40:00
UK Amazon UK 00 : British Superbike Championship Motor Cycling-Donington Park: Day 1 start:2024-05-18 12:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:55:00
UK Amazon UK 01 : Australian Rules Football-Brisbane Lions v Richmond Tigers start:2024-05-18 10:10:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:10:00
UK Amazon UK 01 : Premiership Rugby-Harlequins v Bristol Bears start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:25:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Wellington Phoenix FC vs. Melbourne Victory FC start:2024-05-18 07:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:25:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Giro d'Italia Stage 14 Men Castiglione delle Stiviere - Desenzano del Garda (ITT, 31.2km) start:2024-05-18 11:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 15:55:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Lecce vs. Atalanta BC start:2024-05-18 16:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:55:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
UK Amazon UK 03 : Australian Rules Football-Greater Western Sydney Giants v Western Bulldogs start:2024-05-18 07:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:25:00
UK Amazon UK 03 : BSB Round 3 Donington Park Day 1 start:2024-05-18 12:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
UK Amazon UK 04 : Australian Rules Football-St. Kilda Saints v Fremantle Dockers start:2024-05-18 10:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:25:00
UK Amazon UK 04 : Premiership Rugby-Gloucester v Newcastle Falcons start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
UK Amazon UK 05 : Central Coast Mariners FC vs. Sydney FC start:2024-05-18 10:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:40:00
UK Amazon UK 05 : Premiership Rugby-Bath v Northampton Saints start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
UK Amazon UK 06 : Tour of Burgos Stage 3 Women Roa de Duero – Melgar de Ferntal (122km) start:2024-05-18 13:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:25:00
UK Amazon UK 07 : Olympic Qualifying Debrecen Day 3 start:2024-05-18 13:33:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:33:00
UK Amazon UK 08 : Premiership Rugby-Saracens v Sale Sharks start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:25:00
UK Amazon UK 09 : Premiership Rugby-Leicester Tigers v Exeter Chiefs start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK DAZN PACK ===
UK DAZN UK 02 Rws sajad vs. Mcvicker 18th 1:43pm/Petrosyanmania 1 18th 7:48pm/Las vegas silver stars vs. Seattle majestics 19th 1:58am/Pomigliano vs. Napoli 19th 11:28am
UK DAZN UK 03 Sassuolo vs. Juventus 18th 1:58pm/Atlanta phoenix vs. Washington prodigy 18th 10:58pm/Qatar airways ironman 70.3 chattanooga 19th 11:28am
UK DAZN UK 04 Ring of fire fury vs. Usyk buy now // UK Sat 18 May 2:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:58am
UK DAZN UK 05 Ring of fire fury vs. Usyk prelims // UK Sat 18 May 2:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:58am
UK DAZN UK 06 Al ahli vs. Abha // UK Sat 18 May 6:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:58pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK NRL PACK ===
UK NRL LIVE 00 : Cronulla vs Sydney Roosters // UK Sat 18 May 8:28am // ET Sat 18 May 3:28am
UK NRL LIVE 01: Warriors vs Penrith // UK Sun 19 May 4:48am // ET Sat 18 May 11:48pm
UK NRL LIVE 02: Wests Tigers vs Dolphins // UK Sun 19 May 9:23am // ET Sun 19 May 4:23am
UK NRL LIVE 03: South Sydney vs North Queensland // UK Sat 18 May 10:43am // ET Sat 18 May 5:43am
UK NRL LIVE 04: Melbourne vs Parramatta // UK Sun 19 May 7:03am // ET Sun 19 May 2:03am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK RUGBY PACK ===
UK RUGBY LIVE 01: Bath vs Northampton 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 02: Gloucester vs Newcastle 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 03: Harlequins vs Bristol 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 04: Leicester vs Exeter 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 05: Saracens vs Sale 15.05
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK SPFL PACK ===
UK SPFL 01: Inverness CT v Hamilton Academical 17.30
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK VIA PLAY PACK ===
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 8:00am ET Sat 18 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am ET Sun 19 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 8:00am ET Sat 18 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 02 United Rugby Championship Bulls benetton // UK Sat 18 May 12:55pm ET Sat 18 May 7:55am
UK VIA PLAY 02 United Rugby Championship Connacht stomers // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
UK VIA PLAY 02 NHL Nhl tonight // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am ET Sun 19 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 03 United Rugby Championship Lions glasgow warriors // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
UK VIA PLAY 03 Nascar Wright band 250 // UK Sat 18 May 6:00pm ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 03 NHL Edmonton vancouver // UK Sun 19 May 1:05am ET Sat 18 May 8:05pm
UK VIA PLAY 04 United Rugby Championship Ospreys dragons // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
UK VIA PLAY 04 Ice Hockey World Championship Czech republic great britain // UK Sat 18 May 7:15pm ET Sat 18 May 2:15pm
UK VIA PLAY 05 Ice Hockey World Championship Canada finland // UK Sat 18 May 3:15pm ET Sat 18 May 10:15am
UK VIA PLAY 05 United Rugby Championship Ulster leinster // UK Sat 18 May 7:15pm ET Sat 18 May 2:15pm
UK VIA PLAY 06 United Rugby Championship Sharks cardiff rugby // UK Sat 18 May 5:10pm ET Sat 18 May 12:10pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND CLUBBER PACK ===
IE CLUBBER TV 01 Laois vs Down // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND GAAGO PACK ===
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 00: Kerry vs Monaghan // UK Sat 18 May 2:15pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:15am
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 01: Dublin vs Kilkenny // UK Sat 18 May 5:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 02: TBA vs TBA // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 03: Galway vs Derry // UK Sat 18 May 4:45pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:45am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND LOI PACK ===
IE LOI TV 01 : DLR Waves FC vs Treaty United FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
IE LOI TV 02 : Wexford FC (W) vs Shelbourne FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 6:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
IE LOI TV 03 : Peamount United FC vs Bohemian FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
IE LOI TV 04 : Longford Town FC vs Athlone Town AFC // UK Sat 18 May 7:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:30pm
IE LOI TV 05 : Cork City FC (W) vs Cliftonville FC // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
IE LOI TV 06 : Galway United FC (W) vs Athlone Town AFC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== CANADA DAZN PACK ===
CA DAZN CA 13 Rws sajad vs mcvicker 18th 8:45am/Petrosyanmania 1 18th 2:50pm
CA DAZN CA 14 Sassuolo vs juventus 18th 9:00am/Atlanta phoenix vs washington prodigy 18th 6:00pm
CA DAZN CA 15 Dortmund vs darmstadt // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 16 Frankfurt vs leipzig // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 17 Hoffenheim vs bayern munich // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 18 Bundesliga goal arena // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 19 Union berlin vs freiburg // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 20 Leverkusen vs augsburg // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
CA DAZN CA 21 Wolfsburg vs mainz // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 22 Ring of fire fury vs usyk buy now // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
CA DAZN CA 23 Ring of fire fury vs usyk prelims // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
CA DAZN CA 24 Rome open final // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
CA DAZN CA 25 Bolton vs oxford // UK Sat 18 May 4:15pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:15am
CA DAZN CA 26 Al ahli vs abha // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA TRILLER PACK ===
US TRILLER TV 01 Newcastle Pro Wrestling #112 Fight Knight // UK Sat 18 May 11:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00am
US TRILLER TV 02 Memphis Wrestling Episode 169 Buff Returns to the Ring // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
US TRILLER TV 03 Glory 92 Donovan Wisse vs Ulric Bokeme // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US TRILLER TV 04 Glory 92 Prelims // UK Sat 18 May 5:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
US TRILLER TV 05 GCW Most Notorious 2024 // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US TRILLER TV 06 Liga Portugal Betclic 2023/24 Sporting CP vs GD Chaves // UK Sat 18 May 5:50pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:50pm
US TRILLER TV 07 AEW Collision Episode 1724 // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
US TRILLER TV 08 Liga Portugal Betclic 2023/24 SC Braga vs FC Porto // UK Sat 18 May 8:20pm // ET Sat 18 May 3:20pm
US TRILLER TV 09 CZW Best of the Best XX // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
US TRILLER TV 10 Centurion FC 20 // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA PEACOCK PACK ===
US PEACOCK 01 HORSE RACING 149th preakness stakes // UK Sat 18 May 6:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
US PEACOCK 03 INDYCAR Indy 500 practice 6 // UK Sat 18 May 1:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 7:30am
US PEACOCK 03 INDYCAR Indy 500 qualifying day 1 // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
US PEACOCK 03 GYMNASTICS Core hydration classic // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Womens park final // UK Sun 19 May 3:00am // ET Sat 18 May 9:00pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Mens street final // UK Sun 19 May 4:45am // ET Sat 18 May 10:45pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Mens park final // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am // ET Sun 19 May 2:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US PEACOCK 03 BREAKING M&w breaking finals // UK Sun 19 May 10:30am // ET Sun 19 May 4:30am
US PEACOCK 04 CYCLING Bmx world champ finals // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 GOLF Live from the pga championsip // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 SPORT CLIMBING Mens lead final // UK Sun 19 May 5:00am // ET Sat 18 May 11:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 SPORT CLIMBING Womens boulder final // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am // ET Sun 19 May 2:00am
US PEACOCK 05 TRACK & FIELD La grand prix // UK Sat 18 May 8:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US PEACOCK 05 SPORT CLIMBING Mens boulder finals // UK Sun 19 May 2:45am // ET Sat 18 May 8:45pm
US PEACOCK 05 RUGBY New zealand v. Canada // UK Sun 19 May 5:35am // ET Sat 18 May 11:35pm
US PEACOCK 05 SKATEBOARDING Womens street final // UK Sun 19 May 9:30am // ET Sun 19 May 3:30am
US PEACOCK 06 GOLF Mizuho americas open rd. 3 // UK Sat 18 May 8:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US PEACOCK 06 SPORT CLIMBING Womens lead final // UK Sun 19 May 10:30am // ET Sun 19 May 4:30am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MLB PACK ===
US MLB LIVE 01: Chi. White Sox at NY Yankees 1:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 02: Pittsburgh at Chi. Cubs 2:20 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 03: Tampa Bay at Toronto 3:07 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 04: Seattle at Baltimore 4:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 05: Colorado at San Francisco 4:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 06: NY Mets at Miami 4:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 07: Washington at Philadelphia 6:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 08: Minnesota at Cleveland 6:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 09: Oakland at Kansas City 7:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 10: Milwuakee at Houston 7:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 11: Boston at St. Louis 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 12: LA Angels at Texas 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 13: San Diego at Atlanta 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 14: Detroit at Arizona 8:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 15: Cincinnati at LA Dodgers 9:10 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA NBA PACK ===
US NBA LIVE 01: West Semifinals Game 6: Oklahoma City at Dallas 8:30 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA NHL PACK ===
US NHL LIVE 01: West Semifinals Game 6: Vancouver at Edmonton 8:00 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MLS PACK ===
US MLS LIVE 01: Nashville SC vs Atlanta United 1:45 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 02: Charlotte vs LA Galaxy 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 03: Cincinnati vs St. Louis City 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 04: Inter Miami vs DC United 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 05: New England vs Philadelphia Union 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 06: New York City vs New York RB 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 07: Toronto FC vs CF Montréal 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 08: Austin vs Sporting KC 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 09: Chicago Fire vs Columbus Crew 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 10: Houston Dynamo vs Dallas 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 11: Minnesota United vs Portland Timbers 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 12: Real Salt Lake vs Colorado Rapids 9:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 13: SJ Earthquakes vs Orlando City SC 10:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 14: Seattle Sounders FC vs Vancouver Whitecaps 10:30 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA WNBA PACK ===
US WNBA GAME 01 Indiana Fever @ New York Liberty start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
US WNBA GAME 02 Chicago Sky @ Dallas Wings start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
US WNBA GAME 03 Los Angeles Sparks @ Las Vegas Aces start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
US WNBA GAME 04 Atlanta Dream @ Phoenix Mercury start:2024-05-19 03:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MILB PACK ===
US MILB 01 Bowie Baysox vs Binghamton Rumble Ponies // UK Sat 18 May 6:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:05pm
US MILB 01 Greensboro Grasshoppers vs Hickory Crawdads // UK Sat 18 May 10:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:00pm
US MILB 01 Sugar Land Space Cowboys vs Albuquerque Isotopes // UK Sun 19 May 1:35am // ET Sat 18 May 8:35pm
US MILB 02 Omaha Storm Chasers vs St. Paul Saints // UK Sat 18 May 7:07pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:07pm
US MILB 02 St. Lucie Mets vs Palm Beach Cardinals // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 02 Hillsboro Hops vs Tri-City Dust Devils // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US MILB 03 Beloit Sky Carp vs Wisconsin Timber Rattlers // UK Sat 18 May 7:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:10pm
US MILB 03 Erie SeaWolves vs Harrisburg Senators // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 03 Lake Elsinore Storm vs Visalia Rawhide // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
US MILB 04 Omaha Storm Chasers vs St. Paul Saints // UK Sat 18 May 8:07pm // ET Sat 18 May 3:07pm
US MILB 04 Rocket City Trash Pandas vs Tennessee Smokies // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
US MILB 05 Rome Emperors vs Asheville Tourists // UK Sat 18 May 9:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:00pm
US MILB 05 Chattanooga Lookouts vs Birmingham Barons // UK Sun 19 May 12:30am // ET Sat 18 May 7:30pm
US MILB 06 Rome Emperors vs Asheville Tourists // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 06 Gwinnett Stripers vs Memphis Redbirds // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 07 Scranton/Wilkes-Barre RailRiders vs Worcester Red Sox // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 07 Quad Cities River Bandits vs Cedar Rapids Kernels // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 08 Buffalo Bisons vs Rochester Red Wings // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 08 Brooklyn Cyclones vs Bowling Green Hot Rods // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 09 Buffalo Bisons vs Rochester Red Wings // UK Sat 18 May 9:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:10pm
US MILB 09 Wichita Wind Surge vs Tulsa Drillers // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
US MILB 10 Greensboro Grasshoppers vs Hickory Crawdads // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 10 San Jose Giants vs Modesto Nuts // UK Sun 19 May 2:05am // ET Sat 18 May 9:05pm
US MILB 11 Carolina Mudcats vs Down East Wood Ducks // UK Sat 18 May 10:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:00pm
US MILB 11 Salt Lake Bees vs Tacoma Rainiers // UK Sun 19 May 2:05am // ET Sat 18 May 9:05pm
US MILB 12 Vancouver Canadians vs Spokane Indians // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 12 Inland Empire 66ers vs Rancho Cucamonga Quakes // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
US MILB 13 Jersey Shore BlueClaws vs Hudson Valley Renegades // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 13 Oklahoma City Baseball Club vs Sacramento River Cats // UK Sun 19 May 2:37am // ET Sat 18 May 9:37pm
US MILB 14 Spokane Indians vs Vancouver Canadians // UK Sat 18 May 10:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:10pm
US MILB 14 Eugene Emeralds vs Everett AquaSox // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 15 Reno Aces vs Round Rock Express // UK Sat 18 May 10:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:30pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US MILB 15 Fresno Grizzlies vs Stockton Ports // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 16 Reno Aces vs Round Rock Express // UK Sat 18 May 10:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:35pm
US MILB 16 El Paso Chihuahuas vs Las Vegas Aviators // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 17 Fort Myers Mighty Mussels vs Lakeland Flying Tigers // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 18 Salem Red Sox vs Augusta GreenJackets // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 19 Aberdeen IronBirds vs Wilmington Blue Rocks // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 20 Durham Bulls vs Charlotte Knights // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 21 Fredericksburg Nationals vs Myrtle Beach Pelicans // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 22 Portland Sea Dogs vs Somerset Patriots // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 23 Reading Fightin Phils vs Richmond Flying Squirrels // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 24 Charleston RiverDogs vs Columbia Fireflies // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 25 New Hampshire Fisher Cats vs Hartford Yard Goats // UK Sat 18 May 11:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:10pm
US MILB 26 Jupiter Hammerheads vs Dunedin Blue Jays // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 27 Delmarva Shorebirds vs Lynchburg Hillcats // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 28 Daytona Tortugas vs Clearwater Threshers // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 29 Bradenton Marauders vs Tampa Tarpons // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 30 Toledo Mud Hens vs Indianapolis Indians // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 31 Iowa Cubs vs Syracuse Mets // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 32 Nashville Sounds vs Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 33 South Bend Cubs vs Fort Wayne TinCaps // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 34 Lehigh Valley IronPigs vs Norfolk Tides // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
submitted by Screwdatt to TodaysGames [link] [comments]
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 1: Fury vs Usyk FHD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 2: Fury vs Usyk HD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 3: Fury vs Usyk SD
PPV SKY BOX OFFICE 4: Fury vs Usyk HEVC FHD
PPV BOXING 01: Fury vs Usyk
PPV BOXING 01: Fury vs Usyk FHD
PPV BOXING 02: Fury vs Usyk HD
PPV BOXING 03: Fury vs Usyk SD
PPV BOXING 04: Fury vs Usyk
PPV BOXING 05: Fury vs Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 02 - 10AM/12PM Fury v Usyk USA ET
PPV LIVE EVENT 03 - (SD) Fury v Usyk USA ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV UFC PACK ===
PPV UFC 00: PRELIMS : Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET
PPV UFC 01: UFC FIGHT NIGHT: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET
PPV UFC 02: FIGHT NIGHT:Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [ESPN+]
PPV UFC 03: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [ESPANOL]
PPV UFC 04: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [FR]
PPV UFC 05: UFC: Barboza vs Murphy 8:00 PM ET [STARZPLAY]
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV LIVE EVENT PACK ===
PPV LIVE EVENT 01 - 4/7PM UFC Fight Night Barboza v Murphy
PPV LIVE EVENT 02 - 10AM/12PM Fury v Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 03 - (SD) Fury v Usyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 04 - 10AM UAE Warriors 50
PPV LIVE EVENT 05 - 12PM ADCC Phoenix Open
PPV LIVE EVENT 06 - 12:30/2PM Glory 92
PPV LIVE EVENT 07 - 2:50PM Petrosyan v Sanchez
PPV LIVE EVENT 08 - 7PM Navarrete v Berinchyk
PPV LIVE EVENT 09 - 7PM Boxing Next Generation Kissimmee
PPV LIVE EVENT 10 - 7PM Centurion FC 20
PPV LIVE EVENT 11 - 8PM GCW Most Notorious
PPV LIVE EVENT 12 - 9:30PM Combate Global Gonzalez v Lehane (en Espanol)
PPV LIVE EVENT 13 - 12PM Superbikes MotoAmerica Barber
PPV LIVE EVENT 14 - 12PM AMSOIL Off Road Dirt City
PPV LIVE EVENT 15 - 5:30PM Clyde Martin Memorial Sprints
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV LIVE EVENT 16 - 6PM Weekly Racing Utica Rome
PPV LIVE EVENT 17 - 6PM Weekly Racing Port Royal
PPV LIVE EVENT 18 - 6:15PM World of Outlaws Late Models
PPV LIVE EVENT 19 - 6:30PM Wayne County 410 Sprints
PPV LIVE EVENT 20 - 6:30PM Fireworks Night Eldora
PPV LIVE EVENT 21 - 6:45PM IRA Sprints Plymouth Dirt Track
PPV LIVE EVENT 22 - 7PM MARS Late Models Highland
PPV LIVE EVENT 23 - 7:30PM USAC Huncovsky Classic Belleville
PPV LIVE EVENT 24 - 7:30PM ARCA East Flat Rock
PPV LIVE EVENT 25 - 8PM USCS Sprint Cars Bakersfield
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FA PLAYER PACK ===
PPV FA PLAYER 01 : Aston Villa vs Manchester City // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 02 : Manchester United vs Chelsea // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 03 : Leicester City vs Liverpool // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 04 : Tottenham Hotspur vs West Ham United // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 05 : Bristol City vs Everton // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
PPV FA PLAYER 06 : Arsenal vs Brighton & Hove Albion // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV MOLA PACK ===
PPV MOLA EVENT 01 : Semi-Final Leg 2: Wellington Phoenix vs Melbourne Victory start:2024-05-18 07:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:40:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 01 : LPGA - Mizuho Americas Open - Round 3 start:2024-05-18 19:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 02 : Road to UFC Season 3 : Episode 1 & 2 start:2024-05-18 11:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 02 : UFC Fight Night: Barboza vs Murphy start:2024-05-18 20:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:10:00
PPV MOLA EVENT 03 : 2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs - Round 2 Game 6 : Vancouver Canucks at Edmonton Oilers start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FLO RUGBY PACK ===
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Western Force vs NSW Waratahs start:2024-05-18 10:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:30:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Ospreys vs Dragons start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 00 : 2024 Ulster Rugby vs Leinster Rugby start:2024-05-18 19:35:00 stop:2024-05-18 23:35:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Blues vs Highlanders start:2024-05-18 08:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 12:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Vodacom Bulls vs Benetton Rugby start:2024-05-18 13:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 01 : 2024 Connacht Rugby vs DHL Stormers start:2024-05-18 17:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:05:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO RUGBY 02 : 2024 Montpellier Herault Rugby vs Stade Toulousain start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 02 : 2024 Stade Rochelais vs Section Paloise start:2024-05-18 20:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:05:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 03 : 2024 Emirates Lions vs Glasgow Warriors start:2024-05-18 15:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:05:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 04 : 2024 Lyon OU vs Racing 92 start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 05 : 2024 ASM Clermont Auvergne vs Castres Olympique start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 06 : 2024 Aviron Bayonnais vs Perpignan start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO RUGBY 07 : 2024 Oyonnax Rugby vs RC Toulonnais start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV SETANTA PACK ===
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Borussia Dortmund - Darmstadt start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : UFC Fight Night: Barboza vs. Murphy - Main Card start:2024-05-18 23:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Sassuolo - Cagliari start:2024-05-19 11:25:00 stop:2024-05-19 13:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 01 : Monza - Frosinone start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Union Berlin - Freiburg start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Dallas Mavericks - Oklahoma City Thunder start:2024-05-19 00:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Cerlce Brugge - Royale Union SG start:2024-05-19 12:25:00 stop:2024-05-19 14:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 02 : Brentford - Newcastle start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Hoffenheim - Bayern Munich start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Crawley - Crewe start:2024-05-19 12:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 15:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 03 : Brighton - Manchester United start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 04 : Bayer Leverkusen - Augsburg start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 04 : Udinese - Empoli start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 05 : Eintracht Frankfurt - RB Leipzig start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 05 : Emilia Romagna Grand Prix - Race start:2024-05-19 13:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 06 : Wolfsburg - Mainz start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 06 : Arsenal - Everton start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 07 : Stuttgart - Borussia Monchengladbach start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 07 : Burnley - Nottingham start:2024-05-19 15:55:00 stop:2024-05-19 18:00:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 08 : Heidenheim - FC Koln start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 09 : Multiview start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
PPV SETANTA EVENT 10 : Werder Bremen - Bochum start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== PPV FLO SPORTS PACK ===
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 00 : FloWrestling Radio Live start:2024-05-19 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 Giro dItalia start:2024-05-18 13:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 FHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 01 : 2024 USA Cycling Pro Road National Championships start:2024-05-19 13:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 17:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 02 : FloRacing 24/7 start:2024-05-12 10:00:00 stop:2024-11-10 06:59:59
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 4 Jours de Dunkerque start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 NMAA Outdoor Championships 4A-5A start:2024-05-18 21:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 USAC Huncovsky Classic at Belleville High Banks start:2024-05-19 01:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 Continental Tour: Tokyo - Seiko Golden Grand Prix start:2024-05-19 07:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 11:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 03 : 2024 UCI MTB Bielsko Bialia Poland start:2024-05-19 12:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 16:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 Vuelta a Burgos Féminas start:2024-05-18 14:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 OSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 18:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 New England Knockouts vs Trois-Rivieres Aigles start:2024-05-18 23:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 Nutley vs NJ Aces start:2024-05-19 03:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 04 : 2024 UCI MTB Eliminator World Cup in Palangkaraya start:2024-05-19 11:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 15:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 CHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 16:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 Ulster Rugby vs Leinster Rugby start:2024-05-18 20:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 05 : 2024 IRA Sprints at Plymouth Dirt Track start:2024-05-19 00:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 IHSA Girls Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 Stade Rochelais vs Section Paloise start:2024-05-18 21:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 06 : 2024 Kansas City Mavericks vs Toledo Walleye start:2024-05-19 01:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 CAA Rowing Championship start:2024-05-18 15:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 William & Mary vs Campbell start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 07 : 2024 New York Boulders vs New Jersey Jackals start:2024-05-19 00:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 NCHSAA Outdoor Championships start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 Tropics vs Highlands Black start:2024-05-18 20:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 08 : 2024 Fireworks Night at Eldora Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 UCI BMX Racing World Championships start:2024-05-18 18:50:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 Wayne (Peewee) vs Generals (Peewee) start:2024-05-18 23:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 09 : 2024 Penticton Vees vs Surrey Eagles start:2024-05-19 04:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 08:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Blues vs Highlanders start:2024-05-18 09:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 13:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Vodacom Bulls vs Benetton Rugby start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Connacht Rugby vs DHL Stormers start:2024-05-18 18:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 NASCAR Whelen Modified Tour at Riverhead Raceway start:2024-05-18 22:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 10 : 2024 Sherwood Park Crusaders vs Brooks Bandits start:2024-05-19 03:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 07:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Western Force vs NSW Waratahs start:2024-05-18 11:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 15:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Ospreys vs Dragons start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Wayne (Squirt) vs Ramsey (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 20:15:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 11 : 2024 Washington Wild Things vs Tri-City ValleyCats start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 Frank E. Rader Southeast Regional Champs start:2024-05-18 14:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 Sharks vs Cardiff start:2024-05-18 18:15:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:15:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 12 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Jennerstown Speedway start:2024-05-18 23:50:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Veenendaal-Veenendaal start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Monmouth vs Hofstra start:2024-05-18 19:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 23:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 13 : 2024 Weekly Racing at Port Royal Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Montpellier Herault Rugby vs Stade Toulousain start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Saginaw Valley vs TBD - NCAA Baseball Midwest Regional start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 00:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 14 : 2024 Hockey Farm (MS) vs Generals White (MS) start:2024-05-19 00:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 Central Regional Championships start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Berlin Raceway start:2024-05-18 21:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 15 : 2024 Joliet Slammers vs Evansville Otters start:2024-05-19 01:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 New Jersey Freestyle State Championship start:2024-05-18 15:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 19:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 TBD vs TBD - NCAA Baseball Southeast Regional start:2024-05-18 21:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 16 : 2024 NARC Sprints at Thunderbowl Raceway start:2024-05-19 02:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 Villanova vs Xavier start:2024-05-18 16:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 Hockey Farm (Peewee) vs Paramus start:2024-05-18 21:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 01:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 17 : 2024 USCS Sprint Cars at Bakersfield Speedway start:2024-05-19 02:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Emirates Lions vs Glasgow Warriors start:2024-05-18 16:05:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Florence Yalls vs Schaumburg Boomers start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 18 : 2024 Fargo Force vs Dubuque Fighting Saints start:2024-05-19 02:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 AMSOIL Off-Road Mayhem at the Motorplex start:2024-05-18 16:50:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:50:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 Hockey Farm (Squirt) vs Marauders (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 22:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 02:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 19 : 2024 Bulldogs vs Hockey Farm (Varsity) start:2024-05-19 02:30:00 stop:2024-05-19 06:30:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 20 : 2024 Aviron Bayonnais vs Perpignan start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 20 : 2024 Staten Island FerryHawks vs Hagerstown Flying Boxcars start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 21 : 2024 ASM Clermont Auvergne vs Castres Olympique start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 21 : 2024 Weekly Racing at Utica-Rome Speedway start:2024-05-19 00:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 22 : 2024 Oyonnax Rugby vs RC Toulonnais start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 22 : 2024 Ottawa Titans vs Sussex County Miners start:2024-05-19 00:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 23 : 2024 Lyon OU vs Racing 92 start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 23 : 2024 Charleston Dirty Birds vs High Point Rockers start:2024-05-19 00:35:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:35:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 24 : 2024 ADCC Phoenix Open start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 24 : 2024 York Revolution vs Lancaster Stormers start:2024-05-19 00:45:00 stop:2024-05-19 04:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 25 : 2024 CA Assoc Duals start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 25 : 2024 MARS Late Models at Highland Speedway start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 26 : 2024 Ashland vs Northwood University - NCAA MW Regional start:2024-05-18 17:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 26 : 2024 NASCAR Weekly Racing at Langley Speedway start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 27 : 2024 Continental Tour: ORLEN Janusz Kusocinski Memorial start:2024-05-18 17:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 21:55:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 27 : 2024 American Flat Track at Silver Dollar Short Track start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 28 : 2024 Seton Hall vs Creighton start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 28 : 2024 Lexington Legends vs Gastonia Baseball Club start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 29 : 2024 PNL Duals at Werner Park start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 29 : 2024 Florida Everblades vs Adirondack Thunder start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 30 : 2024 Young Harris vs UNC Pembroke - NCAA SE Regional start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 30 : 2024 Quebec Capitales vs Lake Erie Crushers start:2024-05-19 01:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:05:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 31 : 2024 Highlands Black vs Hockey Farm (Squirt) start:2024-05-18 18:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:45:00
PPV FLO SPORTS TV 31 : 2024 Long Island Ducks vs Southern Maryland Blue Crabs start:2024-05-19 01:05:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:05:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== AUSTRALIA STAN PACK ===
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : Force v Waratahs - Super Rugby Pacific Round 13 2024 start:2024-05-18 10:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 12:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : Bath v Northampton - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 01 : New Zealand v Canada - Pacific Four Series 2024 start:2024-05-19 05:23:04 stop:2024-05-19 08:16:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Blues v Highlanders - Super Rugby Pacific Round 13 2024 start:2024-05-18 07:35:04 stop:2024-05-18 10:28:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Gloucester v Newcastle - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 02 : Sprint Race 2: Misano - GT World Challenge Europe 2024 start:2024-05-18 19:30:08 stop:2024-05-18 22:23:28
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 03 : Harlequins v Bristol - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 04 : Leicester v Exeter - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 05 : Saracens v Sale - Premiership Rugby Round 18 2023/24 start:2024-05-18 15:00:04 stop:2024-05-18 17:53:24
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 06 : Sprint Race 1: Misano - GT World Challenge Europe 2024 start:2024-05-18 12:30:08 stop:2024-05-18 15:23:28
AU STAN SPORT AU EVENT 06 : Qualifying 1: Indianapolis 500 - INDYCAR 2024 start:2024-05-18 16:00:08 stop:2024-05-18 18:53:28
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK-AUSTRALIA OPTUS PACK ===
UK-AU OPTUS 01 : Aston Villa v Manchester City start:2024-05-18 14:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:20:00
UK-AU OPTUS 02 : Manchester United v Chelsea start:2024-05-18 14:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:20:00
UK-AU OPTUS 02 : Deportivo Alaves v Getafe start:2024-05-18 19:20:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:20:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK Amazon PACK ===
UK Amazon UK 00 : Australia Championship Supercars-Perth: Race 9 start:2024-05-18 08:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 12:40:00
UK Amazon UK 00 : British Superbike Championship Motor Cycling-Donington Park: Day 1 start:2024-05-18 12:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:55:00
UK Amazon UK 01 : Australian Rules Football-Brisbane Lions v Richmond Tigers start:2024-05-18 10:10:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:10:00
UK Amazon UK 01 : Premiership Rugby-Harlequins v Bristol Bears start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:25:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Wellington Phoenix FC vs. Melbourne Victory FC start:2024-05-18 07:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:25:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Giro d'Italia Stage 14 Men Castiglione delle Stiviere - Desenzano del Garda (ITT, 31.2km) start:2024-05-18 11:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 15:55:00
UK Amazon UK 02 : Lecce vs. Atalanta BC start:2024-05-18 16:55:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:55:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
UK Amazon UK 03 : Australian Rules Football-Greater Western Sydney Giants v Western Bulldogs start:2024-05-18 07:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 11:25:00
UK Amazon UK 03 : BSB Round 3 Donington Park Day 1 start:2024-05-18 12:30:00 stop:2024-05-18 16:30:00
UK Amazon UK 04 : Australian Rules Football-St. Kilda Saints v Fremantle Dockers start:2024-05-18 10:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:25:00
UK Amazon UK 04 : Premiership Rugby-Gloucester v Newcastle Falcons start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
UK Amazon UK 05 : Central Coast Mariners FC vs. Sydney FC start:2024-05-18 10:40:00 stop:2024-05-18 14:40:00
UK Amazon UK 05 : Premiership Rugby-Bath v Northampton Saints start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
UK Amazon UK 06 : Tour of Burgos Stage 3 Women Roa de Duero – Melgar de Ferntal (122km) start:2024-05-18 13:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:25:00
UK Amazon UK 07 : Olympic Qualifying Debrecen Day 3 start:2024-05-18 13:33:00 stop:2024-05-18 17:33:00
UK Amazon UK 08 : Premiership Rugby-Saracens v Sale Sharks start:2024-05-18 14:25:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:25:00
UK Amazon UK 09 : Premiership Rugby-Leicester Tigers v Exeter Chiefs start:2024-05-18 14:45:00 stop:2024-05-18 18:45:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK DAZN PACK ===
UK DAZN UK 02 Rws sajad vs. Mcvicker 18th 1:43pm/Petrosyanmania 1 18th 7:48pm/Las vegas silver stars vs. Seattle majestics 19th 1:58am/Pomigliano vs. Napoli 19th 11:28am
UK DAZN UK 03 Sassuolo vs. Juventus 18th 1:58pm/Atlanta phoenix vs. Washington prodigy 18th 10:58pm/Qatar airways ironman 70.3 chattanooga 19th 11:28am
UK DAZN UK 04 Ring of fire fury vs. Usyk buy now // UK Sat 18 May 2:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:58am
UK DAZN UK 05 Ring of fire fury vs. Usyk prelims // UK Sat 18 May 2:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:58am
UK DAZN UK 06 Al ahli vs. Abha // UK Sat 18 May 6:58pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:58pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK NRL PACK ===
UK NRL LIVE 00 : Cronulla vs Sydney Roosters // UK Sat 18 May 8:28am // ET Sat 18 May 3:28am
UK NRL LIVE 01: Warriors vs Penrith // UK Sun 19 May 4:48am // ET Sat 18 May 11:48pm
UK NRL LIVE 02: Wests Tigers vs Dolphins // UK Sun 19 May 9:23am // ET Sun 19 May 4:23am
UK NRL LIVE 03: South Sydney vs North Queensland // UK Sat 18 May 10:43am // ET Sat 18 May 5:43am
UK NRL LIVE 04: Melbourne vs Parramatta // UK Sun 19 May 7:03am // ET Sun 19 May 2:03am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK RUGBY PACK ===
UK RUGBY LIVE 01: Bath vs Northampton 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 02: Gloucester vs Newcastle 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 03: Harlequins vs Bristol 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 04: Leicester vs Exeter 15.05
UK RUGBY LIVE 05: Saracens vs Sale 15.05
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK SPFL PACK ===
UK SPFL 01: Inverness CT v Hamilton Academical 17.30
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== UK VIA PLAY PACK ===
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 8:00am ET Sat 18 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 01 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 2 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am ET Sun 19 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sat 18 May 8:00am ET Sat 18 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 02 United Rugby Championship Bulls benetton // UK Sat 18 May 12:55pm ET Sat 18 May 7:55am
UK VIA PLAY 02 United Rugby Championship Connacht stomers // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
UK VIA PLAY 02 NHL Nhl tonight // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 02 24/7 Channel Stream Viaplay sports 1 watch now // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am ET Sun 19 May 3:00am
UK VIA PLAY 03 United Rugby Championship Lions glasgow warriors // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
UK VIA PLAY 03 Nascar Wright band 250 // UK Sat 18 May 6:00pm ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
UK VIA PLAY 03 NHL Edmonton vancouver // UK Sun 19 May 1:05am ET Sat 18 May 8:05pm
UK VIA PLAY 04 United Rugby Championship Ospreys dragons // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
UK VIA PLAY 04 Ice Hockey World Championship Czech republic great britain // UK Sat 18 May 7:15pm ET Sat 18 May 2:15pm
UK VIA PLAY 05 Ice Hockey World Championship Canada finland // UK Sat 18 May 3:15pm ET Sat 18 May 10:15am
UK VIA PLAY 05 United Rugby Championship Ulster leinster // UK Sat 18 May 7:15pm ET Sat 18 May 2:15pm
UK VIA PLAY 06 United Rugby Championship Sharks cardiff rugby // UK Sat 18 May 5:10pm ET Sat 18 May 12:10pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND CLUBBER PACK ===
IE CLUBBER TV 01 Laois vs Down // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND GAAGO PACK ===
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 00: Kerry vs Monaghan // UK Sat 18 May 2:15pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:15am
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 01: Dublin vs Kilkenny // UK Sat 18 May 5:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 02: TBA vs TBA // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
IE GAAGO FIXTURES 03: Galway vs Derry // UK Sat 18 May 4:45pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:45am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== IRELAND LOI PACK ===
IE LOI TV 01 : DLR Waves FC vs Treaty United FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
IE LOI TV 02 : Wexford FC (W) vs Shelbourne FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 6:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
IE LOI TV 03 : Peamount United FC vs Bohemian FC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
IE LOI TV 04 : Longford Town FC vs Athlone Town AFC // UK Sat 18 May 7:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:30pm
IE LOI TV 05 : Cork City FC (W) vs Cliftonville FC // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
IE LOI TV 06 : Galway United FC (W) vs Athlone Town AFC (W) // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== CANADA DAZN PACK ===
CA DAZN CA 13 Rws sajad vs mcvicker 18th 8:45am/Petrosyanmania 1 18th 2:50pm
CA DAZN CA 14 Sassuolo vs juventus 18th 9:00am/Atlanta phoenix vs washington prodigy 18th 6:00pm
CA DAZN CA 15 Dortmund vs darmstadt // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 16 Frankfurt vs leipzig // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 17 Hoffenheim vs bayern munich // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 18 Bundesliga goal arena // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 19 Union berlin vs freiburg // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 20 Leverkusen vs augsburg // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
CA DAZN CA 21 Wolfsburg vs mainz // UK Sat 18 May 2:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 9:30am
CA DAZN CA 22 Ring of fire fury vs usyk buy now // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
CA DAZN CA 23 Ring of fire fury vs usyk prelims // UK Sat 18 May 3:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
CA DAZN CA 24 Rome open final // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:00am
CA DAZN CA 25 Bolton vs oxford // UK Sat 18 May 4:15pm // ET Sat 18 May 11:15am
CA DAZN CA 26 Al ahli vs abha // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA TRILLER PACK ===
US TRILLER TV 01 Newcastle Pro Wrestling #112 Fight Knight // UK Sat 18 May 11:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00am
US TRILLER TV 02 Memphis Wrestling Episode 169 Buff Returns to the Ring // UK Sat 18 May 5:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:00pm
US TRILLER TV 03 Glory 92 Donovan Wisse vs Ulric Bokeme // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US TRILLER TV 04 Glory 92 Prelims // UK Sat 18 May 5:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
US TRILLER TV 05 GCW Most Notorious 2024 // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US TRILLER TV 06 Liga Portugal Betclic 2023/24 Sporting CP vs GD Chaves // UK Sat 18 May 5:50pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:50pm
US TRILLER TV 07 AEW Collision Episode 1724 // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
US TRILLER TV 08 Liga Portugal Betclic 2023/24 SC Braga vs FC Porto // UK Sat 18 May 8:20pm // ET Sat 18 May 3:20pm
US TRILLER TV 09 CZW Best of the Best XX // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
US TRILLER TV 10 Centurion FC 20 // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA PEACOCK PACK ===
US PEACOCK 01 HORSE RACING 149th preakness stakes // UK Sat 18 May 6:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 12:30pm
US PEACOCK 03 INDYCAR Indy 500 practice 6 // UK Sat 18 May 1:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 7:30am
US PEACOCK 03 INDYCAR Indy 500 qualifying day 1 // UK Sat 18 May 4:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 10:00am
US PEACOCK 03 GYMNASTICS Core hydration classic // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Womens park final // UK Sun 19 May 3:00am // ET Sat 18 May 9:00pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Mens street final // UK Sun 19 May 4:45am // ET Sat 18 May 10:45pm
US PEACOCK 03 SKATEBOARDING Mens park final // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am // ET Sun 19 May 2:00am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US PEACOCK 03 BREAKING M&w breaking finals // UK Sun 19 May 10:30am // ET Sun 19 May 4:30am
US PEACOCK 04 CYCLING Bmx world champ finals // UK Sat 18 May 7:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 GOLF Live from the pga championsip // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 SPORT CLIMBING Mens lead final // UK Sun 19 May 5:00am // ET Sat 18 May 11:00pm
US PEACOCK 04 SPORT CLIMBING Womens boulder final // UK Sun 19 May 8:00am // ET Sun 19 May 2:00am
US PEACOCK 05 TRACK & FIELD La grand prix // UK Sat 18 May 8:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US PEACOCK 05 SPORT CLIMBING Mens boulder finals // UK Sun 19 May 2:45am // ET Sat 18 May 8:45pm
US PEACOCK 05 RUGBY New zealand v. Canada // UK Sun 19 May 5:35am // ET Sat 18 May 11:35pm
US PEACOCK 05 SKATEBOARDING Womens street final // UK Sun 19 May 9:30am // ET Sun 19 May 3:30am
US PEACOCK 06 GOLF Mizuho americas open rd. 3 // UK Sat 18 May 8:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:00pm
US PEACOCK 06 SPORT CLIMBING Womens lead final // UK Sun 19 May 10:30am // ET Sun 19 May 4:30am
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MLB PACK ===
US MLB LIVE 01: Chi. White Sox at NY Yankees 1:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 02: Pittsburgh at Chi. Cubs 2:20 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 03: Tampa Bay at Toronto 3:07 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 04: Seattle at Baltimore 4:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 05: Colorado at San Francisco 4:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 06: NY Mets at Miami 4:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 07: Washington at Philadelphia 6:05 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 08: Minnesota at Cleveland 6:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 09: Oakland at Kansas City 7:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 10: Milwuakee at Houston 7:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 11: Boston at St. Louis 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 12: LA Angels at Texas 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 13: San Diego at Atlanta 7:15 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 14: Detroit at Arizona 8:10 PM ET
US MLB LIVE 15: Cincinnati at LA Dodgers 9:10 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA NBA PACK ===
US NBA LIVE 01: West Semifinals Game 6: Oklahoma City at Dallas 8:30 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA NHL PACK ===
US NHL LIVE 01: West Semifinals Game 6: Vancouver at Edmonton 8:00 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MLS PACK ===
US MLS LIVE 01: Nashville SC vs Atlanta United 1:45 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 02: Charlotte vs LA Galaxy 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 03: Cincinnati vs St. Louis City 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 04: Inter Miami vs DC United 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 05: New England vs Philadelphia Union 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 06: New York City vs New York RB 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 07: Toronto FC vs CF Montréal 7:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 08: Austin vs Sporting KC 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 09: Chicago Fire vs Columbus Crew 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 10: Houston Dynamo vs Dallas 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 11: Minnesota United vs Portland Timbers 8:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 12: Real Salt Lake vs Colorado Rapids 9:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 13: SJ Earthquakes vs Orlando City SC 10:30 PM ET
US MLS LIVE 14: Seattle Sounders FC vs Vancouver Whitecaps 10:30 PM ET
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA WNBA PACK ===
US WNBA GAME 01 Indiana Fever @ New York Liberty start:2024-05-18 18:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 20:00:00
US WNBA GAME 02 Chicago Sky @ Dallas Wings start:2024-05-19 01:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 03:00:00
US WNBA GAME 03 Los Angeles Sparks @ Las Vegas Aces start:2024-05-18 20:00:00 stop:2024-05-18 22:00:00
US WNBA GAME 04 Atlanta Dream @ Phoenix Mercury start:2024-05-19 03:00:00 stop:2024-05-19 05:00:00
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
=== USA MILB PACK ===
US MILB 01 Bowie Baysox vs Binghamton Rumble Ponies // UK Sat 18 May 6:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 1:05pm
US MILB 01 Greensboro Grasshoppers vs Hickory Crawdads // UK Sat 18 May 10:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:00pm
US MILB 01 Sugar Land Space Cowboys vs Albuquerque Isotopes // UK Sun 19 May 1:35am // ET Sat 18 May 8:35pm
US MILB 02 Omaha Storm Chasers vs St. Paul Saints // UK Sat 18 May 7:07pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:07pm
US MILB 02 St. Lucie Mets vs Palm Beach Cardinals // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 02 Hillsboro Hops vs Tri-City Dust Devils // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US MILB 03 Beloit Sky Carp vs Wisconsin Timber Rattlers // UK Sat 18 May 7:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 2:10pm
US MILB 03 Erie SeaWolves vs Harrisburg Senators // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 03 Lake Elsinore Storm vs Visalia Rawhide // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
US MILB 04 Omaha Storm Chasers vs St. Paul Saints // UK Sat 18 May 8:07pm // ET Sat 18 May 3:07pm
US MILB 04 Rocket City Trash Pandas vs Tennessee Smokies // UK Sun 19 May 12:00am // ET Sat 18 May 7:00pm
US MILB 05 Rome Emperors vs Asheville Tourists // UK Sat 18 May 9:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:00pm
US MILB 05 Chattanooga Lookouts vs Birmingham Barons // UK Sun 19 May 12:30am // ET Sat 18 May 7:30pm
US MILB 06 Rome Emperors vs Asheville Tourists // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 06 Gwinnett Stripers vs Memphis Redbirds // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 07 Scranton/Wilkes-Barre RailRiders vs Worcester Red Sox // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 07 Quad Cities River Bandits vs Cedar Rapids Kernels // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 08 Buffalo Bisons vs Rochester Red Wings // UK Sat 18 May 9:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:05pm
US MILB 08 Brooklyn Cyclones vs Bowling Green Hot Rods // UK Sun 19 May 12:35am // ET Sat 18 May 7:35pm
US MILB 09 Buffalo Bisons vs Rochester Red Wings // UK Sat 18 May 9:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 4:10pm
US MILB 09 Wichita Wind Surge vs Tulsa Drillers // UK Sun 19 May 1:00am // ET Sat 18 May 8:00pm
US MILB 10 Greensboro Grasshoppers vs Hickory Crawdads // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 10 San Jose Giants vs Modesto Nuts // UK Sun 19 May 2:05am // ET Sat 18 May 9:05pm
US MILB 11 Carolina Mudcats vs Down East Wood Ducks // UK Sat 18 May 10:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:00pm
US MILB 11 Salt Lake Bees vs Tacoma Rainiers // UK Sun 19 May 2:05am // ET Sat 18 May 9:05pm
US MILB 12 Vancouver Canadians vs Spokane Indians // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 12 Inland Empire 66ers vs Rancho Cucamonga Quakes // UK Sun 19 May 2:30am // ET Sat 18 May 9:30pm
US MILB 13 Jersey Shore BlueClaws vs Hudson Valley Renegades // UK Sat 18 May 10:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:05pm
US MILB 13 Oklahoma City Baseball Club vs Sacramento River Cats // UK Sun 19 May 2:37am // ET Sat 18 May 9:37pm
US MILB 14 Spokane Indians vs Vancouver Canadians // UK Sat 18 May 10:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:10pm
US MILB 14 Eugene Emeralds vs Everett AquaSox // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 15 Reno Aces vs Round Rock Express // UK Sat 18 May 10:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:30pm
Screwdatt, [5/18/2024 9:34 AM]
US MILB 15 Fresno Grizzlies vs Stockton Ports // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 16 Reno Aces vs Round Rock Express // UK Sat 18 May 10:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 5:35pm
US MILB 16 El Paso Chihuahuas vs Las Vegas Aviators // UK Sun 19 May 3:05am // ET Sat 18 May 10:05pm
US MILB 17 Fort Myers Mighty Mussels vs Lakeland Flying Tigers // UK Sat 18 May 11:00pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:00pm
US MILB 18 Salem Red Sox vs Augusta GreenJackets // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 19 Aberdeen IronBirds vs Wilmington Blue Rocks // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 20 Durham Bulls vs Charlotte Knights // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 21 Fredericksburg Nationals vs Myrtle Beach Pelicans // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 22 Portland Sea Dogs vs Somerset Patriots // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 23 Reading Fightin Phils vs Richmond Flying Squirrels // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 24 Charleston RiverDogs vs Columbia Fireflies // UK Sat 18 May 11:05pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:05pm
US MILB 25 New Hampshire Fisher Cats vs Hartford Yard Goats // UK Sat 18 May 11:10pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:10pm
US MILB 26 Jupiter Hammerheads vs Dunedin Blue Jays // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 27 Delmarva Shorebirds vs Lynchburg Hillcats // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 28 Daytona Tortugas vs Clearwater Threshers // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 29 Bradenton Marauders vs Tampa Tarpons // UK Sat 18 May 11:30pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:30pm
US MILB 30 Toledo Mud Hens vs Indianapolis Indians // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 31 Iowa Cubs vs Syracuse Mets // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 32 Nashville Sounds vs Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 33 South Bend Cubs vs Fort Wayne TinCaps // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
US MILB 34 Lehigh Valley IronPigs vs Norfolk Tides // UK Sat 18 May 11:35pm // ET Sat 18 May 6:35pm
2024.05.18 14:54 Mr_Waffle101- The first class argument
🧇THE FIRST CLASS ARGUMENT!🧇
The first class argument is only to be used if your opponent has brought up the argument of speed, pointing out that pancakes cook faster than waffles. So let’s get into the meat of the argument.
The meat:
The way the first class argument works is by pointing out a weak point in the arguments of many pancake people, convenience. In the arguments of many a pancake foe, they will argue that you don’t need a waffle iron for pancakes, just a versatile pan (a counter argument, for this is pointing out that waffles don’t need to be used for exclusively, waffles) and while it’s true that waffle iron’s need only an outlet, the same is true for skillets, and that pancakes are twice as fast as waffles and you can have multiple pancakes going at once without having to buy a bunch of waffle iron’s! And perhaps even more arguments of that nature. Admittedly these arguments are devastating to a waffle lovers argument but, I have a counter argument! There is a good chance that you will have been able to dominate the discussion in areas about the quality of waffles over pancakes, for example there is a good chance you can dominate when arguing that the grooves in waffles allow you to have perfect topping distribution, and the areas that you are less likely to dominate are the ones concerning speed or accessibility, similar to the ones listed above. The way you exploit this is by pointing out that the majority of your opponents arguments that prove to be decent are all related to speed and accessibility. Tell your opponent that it’s not a race and that just because they aren’t willing to put in the money to buy a waffle iron and the time needed to cook the waffle that those things don’t make pancakes any better or waffles any worse! After all, if you want to buy a nice car it will take more money then buying a low end model , if you want to paint a beautiful painting it will take more time than a hasty sketch! And if you want your breakfast to be a more functional shape it will take some more of those things! So if you aren’t willing to do that, it’s a problem with you, not a problem with waffles! Please note that you should say this much less aggressively, make sure you are being respectful. An additional point you can make against arguments concerning speed is this: you can say that you know of a person, me, Mr waffle, who has a waffle iron that has cooked a waffle in around 2 minutes and 20 seconds, which falls into the average speed of a pancakes cooking time. You may also say that I Mr waffle has a waffle iron (the same one) that cooks 2 waffles at a time. And lastly you can point out that while your waffle is cooking you can do other tasks such as setting the table or making more batter without having to watch your pancake or worry about flipping it.
submitted by Mr_Waffle101- to USAWaffleSociety [link] [comments]
The first class argument is only to be used if your opponent has brought up the argument of speed, pointing out that pancakes cook faster than waffles. So let’s get into the meat of the argument.
The meat:
The way the first class argument works is by pointing out a weak point in the arguments of many pancake people, convenience. In the arguments of many a pancake foe, they will argue that you don’t need a waffle iron for pancakes, just a versatile pan (a counter argument, for this is pointing out that waffles don’t need to be used for exclusively, waffles) and while it’s true that waffle iron’s need only an outlet, the same is true for skillets, and that pancakes are twice as fast as waffles and you can have multiple pancakes going at once without having to buy a bunch of waffle iron’s! And perhaps even more arguments of that nature. Admittedly these arguments are devastating to a waffle lovers argument but, I have a counter argument! There is a good chance that you will have been able to dominate the discussion in areas about the quality of waffles over pancakes, for example there is a good chance you can dominate when arguing that the grooves in waffles allow you to have perfect topping distribution, and the areas that you are less likely to dominate are the ones concerning speed or accessibility, similar to the ones listed above. The way you exploit this is by pointing out that the majority of your opponents arguments that prove to be decent are all related to speed and accessibility. Tell your opponent that it’s not a race and that just because they aren’t willing to put in the money to buy a waffle iron and the time needed to cook the waffle that those things don’t make pancakes any better or waffles any worse! After all, if you want to buy a nice car it will take more money then buying a low end model , if you want to paint a beautiful painting it will take more time than a hasty sketch! And if you want your breakfast to be a more functional shape it will take some more of those things! So if you aren’t willing to do that, it’s a problem with you, not a problem with waffles! Please note that you should say this much less aggressively, make sure you are being respectful. An additional point you can make against arguments concerning speed is this: you can say that you know of a person, me, Mr waffle, who has a waffle iron that has cooked a waffle in around 2 minutes and 20 seconds, which falls into the average speed of a pancakes cooking time. You may also say that I Mr waffle has a waffle iron (the same one) that cooks 2 waffles at a time. And lastly you can point out that while your waffle is cooking you can do other tasks such as setting the table or making more batter without having to watch your pancake or worry about flipping it.
2024.05.18 14:36 MidasTouch6 Turning the Ship
It seems they’ve done very little right.
The Polestar 2 is a rehashed Volvo S60, the 3 a Volvo 90 and the 4 a Zeeker, Geely variant. Surely the costs to put a Polestar skin on these was minimal?
Why have they spent so much money? They have no manufacturing or assets??
If you were joining tomorrow as Chairman what would your next moves be.
Here’s mine:
submitted by MidasTouch6 to PSNY_Polestar_SPAC [link] [comments]
The Polestar 2 is a rehashed Volvo S60, the 3 a Volvo 90 and the 4 a Zeeker, Geely variant. Surely the costs to put a Polestar skin on these was minimal?
Why have they spent so much money? They have no manufacturing or assets??
If you were joining tomorrow as Chairman what would your next moves be.
Here’s mine:
- Put Thomas into a head of design role
- Get in a serious CEO from the motor industry
- Sell the 2 in its LR single motor variant fully loaded for 3K more than the Tesla Model 3
- Close down all Polestar spaces and move to a dealership model globally with preference given to Volvo dealers who will also service
- Halt indefinitely the 5 and 6 which are distractions and won’t contribute to the bottom line. These are luxury prestige cars, a brand that is seen to be failing won’t have appeal to this segment. Polestar can return to this segment when things improve
- Get some of the cars onto racing circuits with YouTube influencers to emphasise racing heritage
- Design and launch a volume offering, a Golf, BMW 1 Series sized car at a 15% premium to the MG 4
- Pause indefinitely all ancillary efforts around Carbon Zero, Fashion sponsorships, LGBT, Tree Houses, Speedboats or any other nonsense distractions
- A shelf offering to raise $1.5Bn and a 20 to 1 reverse split (this will be popular here buts vital for survival)
- Stop all advertising other than Google ad words and working with YouTube influencers
2024.05.18 11:51 MikeTheMerc Big Wh*eling has infiltrated the field of taxonomy. #Wh*elerEqualsNaziSquared - Melissa
 | submitted by MikeTheMerc to BanHotWheels [link] [comments] |
2024.05.18 11:32 Bushels_of_ash The 9th of may - please let me know what you think
Did you know that memories aren’t real? No? Not really, you can misremember or change a memory without ever knowing you have. It’s a sinisterly important fact for me, some would be worried but I find it freeing, I can share this memory without fear or shame. I most likely haven’t remembered what happened as it happened, and considering what happened on the 9th of May all those years ago, I’d say it’s likely I don’t remember. It’s a relief really that memories aren’t real; I have always hated talking about my memories, about myself in general. In my experience, people are not interested in what I have to say, unless it relates to them or it makes me look less than them. Maybe it’s all in my head, everything is really. I’m not the most people friendly these days, I think you could call me a cynic, I call myself a cynic, but I’ll try and keep true to this memory, without the influence of hindsight and my cynicism.
It’s about that puddle and the 9th of May. Why the specifically the 9th of May? Well I don’t actually know why that day, it could have easily been the 8th, the difference is hours. I do wish I could change the setting; it’s almost poetic, I could always be misremembering, it was a long time ago, and I have been told many times since that I have a flair for the dramatic. A dark and rainy night, with the wind howling, well that’s a backdrop I can enjoy.
I’m sorry. Let me start at the beginning for the sake of clarity, otherwise I’ll never finish what I start to say, and I’ll never say what I need to say.
Once upon a time I went to a party. I enjoyed drinking back then, a healthy amount for most people, but for me, a dangerous amount, I had a tendency to get inside my head when I drink.
No again I’m sorry, that’s not the memory I want to share, I want to tell the 9th of May, I think this memory will be harder to tell than I first thought.
It was a birthday party for a friend, well a friend of a friend, I knew two people there, I was speaking my wisdom at the party, normally people would just nod and slide away from that kind of wisdom, but this was during the university days, everyone is intelligent, insightful and understanding at university. We few were the self-proclaimed leaders of the future, and so understood all, my green wisdom spewed with no start or finish was always well received. I remember some of what I said, you can walk into any pub or club and listen to the drunkest person in the room, they would have spewed the same wisdom, wisdom that I thought at the time was original and wise, but really was just old sentiment repeated with new words. Despite what I wanted at the time, wisdom comes with age, not self-assurance.
But this time was my spring years, that sweet age just before I faced reality, the real harsh reality of life, I had just begun to explore the world inside my bubble, and my exploration lead me onto the well-trodden path of clubbing and drinking, the respectable rebellion. I began as I always did, by talking, talking of going to some event, a lecture, a monument, an underground pub, of all the things I could do that evening, the places I could go, I and the other future leaders of the world, the potential was ours to squander. This ended as it always would, in that night club, the very same one I would always go to, my slice of reality. Apologies my dear reader, I have a cynical mind, it’s hard to keep at bay, I’ll admit that I haven’t really tried to keep it from being an influence here, I can’t seem to help myself, but this next part of the memory is less clear, but I can relay it with a real, shame filled joy. This part of the memory feels more like a dream now, I don’t have the energy to do what I did that night, I don’t have the energy for much these days, I think that makes the memory more fond to me, drinking, dancing, worry free. Maybe fond was the wrong word to use here, jealous is more fitting, jealous of the innocence and time I wasted. The power of a drink back then was incredible; I miss the feeling, that burn in the mouth, the after taste, the saliva, the heat in your chest, and that feeling of being unstoppable. Of course drink has more than one effect, and while I’d like to believe my cloudy memory is caused by false and misremembered facts, or by the merging of a hundred single nights into one endless night, that’s too poetic. No, the memory is clouded by the amount I drunk that night, and many years after as I tried to forget this very memory.
Yet despite this, even now, the fragments still makes me smile, whether it’s because I enjoy the memories of the innocence I held then, or I’m jealous of them I cannot say, I’m a self-proclaimed cynic, not a philosopher or a psychologist, I’ll leave the analysis to better men than me. Instead I’ll try to give you an idea of what happened in the club without my opinions bleeding through. This night in the club was no different from all the others, they all start the same. Moving around the club in a daze, my head feeling big and unsteady, but also incredibly light and empty, my fingertips warm, my feet numb, I remember dancing to songs, dancing on tables, screaming out lyrics, smoking outside, stealing a bottle of champagne, fixing my hair in a mirror, buying a round of drinks, the lights flashing, the bass thumping, fog spewing, standing on my own staring at the old chandelier, crawling on the floor looking for money, I remember walking out the club and how quiet everything seemed in comparison while I tried to keep standing in the night air, looking at my hands, how bright the lights were, how blurry the world seemed and how beautiful the moon was that night. Here, here the memory starts to come back into focus, the bright street lights and night air always helped me to sober up at night, plus I’ve always enjoyed being outside in the dark night or under the moonlight, I find it comforting to stand under the moon, it’s as if I’m suddenly alive.
As I came to my senses my memory sharpened, but that’s all, my drunkenness remained. I was with a couple of friends, some who I had been at the party with and some who I met in the club, we got food, and we spent such a long time talking, our conversations were mixed, some happy, some sad, all just more green wisdom. Much later on, me and my friend, maybe the one I went to the party with (it might have been someone else, who’s to say?), walked back towards our homes not because we wanted to walk as we said over and over to our screeching friends, but because the taxi was expensive and we couldn’t afford it, we lived in different places but close enough that we could walk together. Its funny to think of this moment, back then I had the money for a taxi, but I wouldn’t spend it on a taxi, now that I’m a poor man, I’ll spend money I don’t have on taxis I don’t need, apparently the youthful idiot I was, was wiser than I am now in some regards after all.
I don’t remember walking with my friend, or rather, I know where we went, how long it took and what we probably talked about, I had walked this walk so many times before this night, and so many after, they are all the same memory to me now, I enjoyed the walking in the night, the exhilaration of that has stayed with me more than the company on those walks. I always used to break it down into three segments, and so that’s how it comes back to me now. Leaving the club, past the library, past the race track, over the river across the bridge, up the steep hill, past the first university gates (which were actually the back gates), round the campus on the public roads, to the second gates (which are the main gates), a long walk with company, a painfully short one with alone. He was still living on the Campus my friend, I lived about ten minutes away from the campus, I said goodbye and goodnight, we agreed to speak in the morning if we survived. He went through the back gates and headed towards the halls, I continued on my way, onto the second segment of the walk past the gates.
I was on my own for the rest of the walk; this happened a lot, both during my university days and many years after. I lived on the opposite side of the campus to most of my friends so this part of the walk was always mine alone, even when I started the night with the people I lived with. I didn’t mind, it was nice to enjoy the feeling of being drunk without having to show I was drunk, a few assured moments of peace under the moon light. I never deviated from my path, round the outside of the campus, opposite some housing estates, till I got next to a little shop that sold cheap, bottles of spirit. I would always stop for a moment to wish that shop was open.
Then it was down that straight road, the final part of my walk, big houses on either side, well-lit but not busy. It looked like it was a five minute walk but once you started it felt like it was never ending, and at the end of the night, in the night air, it was never ending. Sometimes I would run, sprint to see if I could make it to the end of that road without stopping, something to break the monotony of walking, other times to tire myself out so I could fall straight to sleep, and sometimes just because I wanted to run. Nearly every day for two years I walked down that road to go clubbing shopping or studying, to go for a meal, see a film, meet a friend, it was a constant part of my life, an unwanted companion and witness. Walking down that road, reader I don’t think I’m able to describe how I hated that road, but I always walked down that road, there were other ways I could walk, quicker ways, but I always took that road.
This particular night, actually at this point I suppose it was the morning. I was walking down that road in the rain and dark between the streetlights, bitterly cold staring straight into a street light walking on the right hand side. I’d always walk on the right hand side, I’m not sure why, whenever I walked on the left I had a bad day. Except for on the 9th, the 9th is the one exception.
I have no clue where the car came from; I didn’t see it until after the jump, just a blurred headlight, a door, a wing mirror. The driver, the make, the model, even the color is a mystery. It appeared and left like a phantom. There was no thought, I moved forward, but I don’t recognize that I was the one who leapt forward.
I remember the fall. I fell backwards. As if my strings had been cut and I fell limp into the puddle, there was no splash as I landed in that puddle.
The feeling I felt in that puddle, it was something I had never felt before or since, an overwhelming pull I was powerless against, I pray to never to feel it again.
Should I describe it? How to describe it? I have to describe it. I can describe the fear it inspired, but not yet, it’s easier to describe fear, but this isn’t meant to be easy, this memory never is. No the actual feeling, that’s harder, It wasn’t a happy emotion, not a powerful emotion, not a sad emotion. Hopelessness? Yes it was hopelessness. Nothing more, nothing less. No hope for the future, no point to anything, I think it is possibly the only time I felt hopelessness. You can’t live without hope.
I couldn’t stand could I? No, I wouldn’t have laid there if I could, to begin with I didn’t want to, didn’t care to, my legs wouldn’t move, arms were like stone, every muscle in my body cramped, I could feel everything. My eyes were open, rain hitting them, rain dripped from my lips to my chin, it tickled. The fingertips were warm, hair moved, stand by stand off my face. Puddle water lapped against my cheek, socks soaking up water, shirt getting tighter and heavier, jacket sleeves filling up with water, keys and wallet resting on my leg. I just lay there staring at nothing, seeing nothing.
I think to begin with I was gone; that everything I held myself up to and was trying to achieve, had suddenly left me, except my memories, memories that weren’t real. For the longest time that’s how I was, empty, even down to my emotions there was nothing I laid there empty. I could feel my body, but I couldn’t move it, I wasn’t welcome, I felt awkward, out of place.
I’m not sure how long I lay there, dead (I had to be dead because I had no hope), it could have been a minute; it could have been hours, days or years.
The light was wrong. It was dark, only the light seemed to come from a streetlight, the sky was empty, the moon had left me.
Some portion of my mind came back, I started crying, I had failed, failed at even this simple task, I lay for a long time waiting, waiting for something else to come, I should have gotten up, but I just lay there waiting, I was muttering my secret . If that had been my mind for the rest of my days, I would have spent those days in that puddle unmoving; declared brain dead on the spot. The moment raises such disgust in me, I grieved my most important failure, hated my greatest success.
I’d like to lie here, to say anything other than the truth, to save myself the pain and the shame, but I said I would try to tell this memory as it was, not as I wish it, so while I’d like to say I had a vison, a burst of strength, that hope returned to me, I can’t, because in reality it was two words that saved me.
Two words. The Two words that cut through it all. I’m still not sure if I just heard them from somewhere else, said it myself or imagined it afterwards. “Get up” it was angry, disgusted, the words were almost spat out, “Get up”. Those words have burned themselves into my mind, and affected me every day since. The fear and inspiration it awoke in my mind, throat pricked and butterflies in my stomach, anxiety. Next to the hopelessness it seemed like life had spoken, with a voice that wielded fear.
I took control of my body then……
No dear reader I didn’t…. I am almost finished, I have to be true to the memory, I can’t spare myself now, it’s too late for me to take it back. I didn’t take control, I wasn’t there yet, it took me such a long time to regain control again, but it gave my eyes back to me for I had seen nothing long before the fall. I watched as fear drove me, took the strings of my life and moved them, dragging my shell in the dust, screaming.
I cursed everyone and everything, hated myself for what had happened, Oh and the fear, fear of the voice, fear of dying, the fear that someone would see me at this moment, see me and misunderstand me, I didn’t want to die,(I don’t want to die now) I was terrified that I had tried to die, terrified I didn’t know where that urge came from, that moment of energy and intention that was actioned without the consent of my mind, that I was powerless against.
Fear drove me, commanded me out of that puddle. I’d gone insane, truly, completely, utterly mad, I was dragging myself to the curb, screaming, crying, laughing, I ripped my finger nails out, shredded my palms and hands into bloody messes my knees into bruised pulp, my head and face cut by being dragged along.
I heaved up that curb fucking curb, shaking. I started to stand and scramble forward, to escape that spot, that puddle on that road. I stood up hunched and bent, buffet by the wind, laughing, crying, waving my hands in all directions spitting, shouting, wiping blood on my jeans, I was staggering side to side shaking, soaked to the bone, I was mad, insane, disgraced and humiliated.
Why say more? I won’t go further, there is so much more but to understand it…. This was not the place for such memories. That moment all those years ago, was not the eureka moment, the next day I turned this into a joke, a story to tell.
To this day, I cannot tell you what really happened that night all those years ago, as I sit here writing and rewriting the words over and over. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I wonder what would happened if I could relive that night again, doing everything again now.
This was the time that my bubble began to burst and the real world hit me like a wave. Perhaps it was just a moment of growing pains. I’ve said it before, I’m only a cynic, all I have left is the memory of the 9th of May, a memory I visit daily.
submitted by Bushels_of_ash to KeepWriting [link] [comments]
It’s about that puddle and the 9th of May. Why the specifically the 9th of May? Well I don’t actually know why that day, it could have easily been the 8th, the difference is hours. I do wish I could change the setting; it’s almost poetic, I could always be misremembering, it was a long time ago, and I have been told many times since that I have a flair for the dramatic. A dark and rainy night, with the wind howling, well that’s a backdrop I can enjoy.
I’m sorry. Let me start at the beginning for the sake of clarity, otherwise I’ll never finish what I start to say, and I’ll never say what I need to say.
Once upon a time I went to a party. I enjoyed drinking back then, a healthy amount for most people, but for me, a dangerous amount, I had a tendency to get inside my head when I drink.
No again I’m sorry, that’s not the memory I want to share, I want to tell the 9th of May, I think this memory will be harder to tell than I first thought.
It was a birthday party for a friend, well a friend of a friend, I knew two people there, I was speaking my wisdom at the party, normally people would just nod and slide away from that kind of wisdom, but this was during the university days, everyone is intelligent, insightful and understanding at university. We few were the self-proclaimed leaders of the future, and so understood all, my green wisdom spewed with no start or finish was always well received. I remember some of what I said, you can walk into any pub or club and listen to the drunkest person in the room, they would have spewed the same wisdom, wisdom that I thought at the time was original and wise, but really was just old sentiment repeated with new words. Despite what I wanted at the time, wisdom comes with age, not self-assurance.
But this time was my spring years, that sweet age just before I faced reality, the real harsh reality of life, I had just begun to explore the world inside my bubble, and my exploration lead me onto the well-trodden path of clubbing and drinking, the respectable rebellion. I began as I always did, by talking, talking of going to some event, a lecture, a monument, an underground pub, of all the things I could do that evening, the places I could go, I and the other future leaders of the world, the potential was ours to squander. This ended as it always would, in that night club, the very same one I would always go to, my slice of reality. Apologies my dear reader, I have a cynical mind, it’s hard to keep at bay, I’ll admit that I haven’t really tried to keep it from being an influence here, I can’t seem to help myself, but this next part of the memory is less clear, but I can relay it with a real, shame filled joy. This part of the memory feels more like a dream now, I don’t have the energy to do what I did that night, I don’t have the energy for much these days, I think that makes the memory more fond to me, drinking, dancing, worry free. Maybe fond was the wrong word to use here, jealous is more fitting, jealous of the innocence and time I wasted. The power of a drink back then was incredible; I miss the feeling, that burn in the mouth, the after taste, the saliva, the heat in your chest, and that feeling of being unstoppable. Of course drink has more than one effect, and while I’d like to believe my cloudy memory is caused by false and misremembered facts, or by the merging of a hundred single nights into one endless night, that’s too poetic. No, the memory is clouded by the amount I drunk that night, and many years after as I tried to forget this very memory.
Yet despite this, even now, the fragments still makes me smile, whether it’s because I enjoy the memories of the innocence I held then, or I’m jealous of them I cannot say, I’m a self-proclaimed cynic, not a philosopher or a psychologist, I’ll leave the analysis to better men than me. Instead I’ll try to give you an idea of what happened in the club without my opinions bleeding through. This night in the club was no different from all the others, they all start the same. Moving around the club in a daze, my head feeling big and unsteady, but also incredibly light and empty, my fingertips warm, my feet numb, I remember dancing to songs, dancing on tables, screaming out lyrics, smoking outside, stealing a bottle of champagne, fixing my hair in a mirror, buying a round of drinks, the lights flashing, the bass thumping, fog spewing, standing on my own staring at the old chandelier, crawling on the floor looking for money, I remember walking out the club and how quiet everything seemed in comparison while I tried to keep standing in the night air, looking at my hands, how bright the lights were, how blurry the world seemed and how beautiful the moon was that night. Here, here the memory starts to come back into focus, the bright street lights and night air always helped me to sober up at night, plus I’ve always enjoyed being outside in the dark night or under the moonlight, I find it comforting to stand under the moon, it’s as if I’m suddenly alive.
As I came to my senses my memory sharpened, but that’s all, my drunkenness remained. I was with a couple of friends, some who I had been at the party with and some who I met in the club, we got food, and we spent such a long time talking, our conversations were mixed, some happy, some sad, all just more green wisdom. Much later on, me and my friend, maybe the one I went to the party with (it might have been someone else, who’s to say?), walked back towards our homes not because we wanted to walk as we said over and over to our screeching friends, but because the taxi was expensive and we couldn’t afford it, we lived in different places but close enough that we could walk together. Its funny to think of this moment, back then I had the money for a taxi, but I wouldn’t spend it on a taxi, now that I’m a poor man, I’ll spend money I don’t have on taxis I don’t need, apparently the youthful idiot I was, was wiser than I am now in some regards after all.
I don’t remember walking with my friend, or rather, I know where we went, how long it took and what we probably talked about, I had walked this walk so many times before this night, and so many after, they are all the same memory to me now, I enjoyed the walking in the night, the exhilaration of that has stayed with me more than the company on those walks. I always used to break it down into three segments, and so that’s how it comes back to me now. Leaving the club, past the library, past the race track, over the river across the bridge, up the steep hill, past the first university gates (which were actually the back gates), round the campus on the public roads, to the second gates (which are the main gates), a long walk with company, a painfully short one with alone. He was still living on the Campus my friend, I lived about ten minutes away from the campus, I said goodbye and goodnight, we agreed to speak in the morning if we survived. He went through the back gates and headed towards the halls, I continued on my way, onto the second segment of the walk past the gates.
I was on my own for the rest of the walk; this happened a lot, both during my university days and many years after. I lived on the opposite side of the campus to most of my friends so this part of the walk was always mine alone, even when I started the night with the people I lived with. I didn’t mind, it was nice to enjoy the feeling of being drunk without having to show I was drunk, a few assured moments of peace under the moon light. I never deviated from my path, round the outside of the campus, opposite some housing estates, till I got next to a little shop that sold cheap, bottles of spirit. I would always stop for a moment to wish that shop was open.
Then it was down that straight road, the final part of my walk, big houses on either side, well-lit but not busy. It looked like it was a five minute walk but once you started it felt like it was never ending, and at the end of the night, in the night air, it was never ending. Sometimes I would run, sprint to see if I could make it to the end of that road without stopping, something to break the monotony of walking, other times to tire myself out so I could fall straight to sleep, and sometimes just because I wanted to run. Nearly every day for two years I walked down that road to go clubbing shopping or studying, to go for a meal, see a film, meet a friend, it was a constant part of my life, an unwanted companion and witness. Walking down that road, reader I don’t think I’m able to describe how I hated that road, but I always walked down that road, there were other ways I could walk, quicker ways, but I always took that road.
This particular night, actually at this point I suppose it was the morning. I was walking down that road in the rain and dark between the streetlights, bitterly cold staring straight into a street light walking on the right hand side. I’d always walk on the right hand side, I’m not sure why, whenever I walked on the left I had a bad day. Except for on the 9th, the 9th is the one exception.
I have no clue where the car came from; I didn’t see it until after the jump, just a blurred headlight, a door, a wing mirror. The driver, the make, the model, even the color is a mystery. It appeared and left like a phantom. There was no thought, I moved forward, but I don’t recognize that I was the one who leapt forward.
I remember the fall. I fell backwards. As if my strings had been cut and I fell limp into the puddle, there was no splash as I landed in that puddle.
The feeling I felt in that puddle, it was something I had never felt before or since, an overwhelming pull I was powerless against, I pray to never to feel it again.
Should I describe it? How to describe it? I have to describe it. I can describe the fear it inspired, but not yet, it’s easier to describe fear, but this isn’t meant to be easy, this memory never is. No the actual feeling, that’s harder, It wasn’t a happy emotion, not a powerful emotion, not a sad emotion. Hopelessness? Yes it was hopelessness. Nothing more, nothing less. No hope for the future, no point to anything, I think it is possibly the only time I felt hopelessness. You can’t live without hope.
I couldn’t stand could I? No, I wouldn’t have laid there if I could, to begin with I didn’t want to, didn’t care to, my legs wouldn’t move, arms were like stone, every muscle in my body cramped, I could feel everything. My eyes were open, rain hitting them, rain dripped from my lips to my chin, it tickled. The fingertips were warm, hair moved, stand by stand off my face. Puddle water lapped against my cheek, socks soaking up water, shirt getting tighter and heavier, jacket sleeves filling up with water, keys and wallet resting on my leg. I just lay there staring at nothing, seeing nothing.
I think to begin with I was gone; that everything I held myself up to and was trying to achieve, had suddenly left me, except my memories, memories that weren’t real. For the longest time that’s how I was, empty, even down to my emotions there was nothing I laid there empty. I could feel my body, but I couldn’t move it, I wasn’t welcome, I felt awkward, out of place.
I’m not sure how long I lay there, dead (I had to be dead because I had no hope), it could have been a minute; it could have been hours, days or years.
The light was wrong. It was dark, only the light seemed to come from a streetlight, the sky was empty, the moon had left me.
Some portion of my mind came back, I started crying, I had failed, failed at even this simple task, I lay for a long time waiting, waiting for something else to come, I should have gotten up, but I just lay there waiting, I was muttering my secret . If that had been my mind for the rest of my days, I would have spent those days in that puddle unmoving; declared brain dead on the spot. The moment raises such disgust in me, I grieved my most important failure, hated my greatest success.
I’d like to lie here, to say anything other than the truth, to save myself the pain and the shame, but I said I would try to tell this memory as it was, not as I wish it, so while I’d like to say I had a vison, a burst of strength, that hope returned to me, I can’t, because in reality it was two words that saved me.
Two words. The Two words that cut through it all. I’m still not sure if I just heard them from somewhere else, said it myself or imagined it afterwards. “Get up” it was angry, disgusted, the words were almost spat out, “Get up”. Those words have burned themselves into my mind, and affected me every day since. The fear and inspiration it awoke in my mind, throat pricked and butterflies in my stomach, anxiety. Next to the hopelessness it seemed like life had spoken, with a voice that wielded fear.
I took control of my body then……
No dear reader I didn’t…. I am almost finished, I have to be true to the memory, I can’t spare myself now, it’s too late for me to take it back. I didn’t take control, I wasn’t there yet, it took me such a long time to regain control again, but it gave my eyes back to me for I had seen nothing long before the fall. I watched as fear drove me, took the strings of my life and moved them, dragging my shell in the dust, screaming.
I cursed everyone and everything, hated myself for what had happened, Oh and the fear, fear of the voice, fear of dying, the fear that someone would see me at this moment, see me and misunderstand me, I didn’t want to die,(I don’t want to die now) I was terrified that I had tried to die, terrified I didn’t know where that urge came from, that moment of energy and intention that was actioned without the consent of my mind, that I was powerless against.
Fear drove me, commanded me out of that puddle. I’d gone insane, truly, completely, utterly mad, I was dragging myself to the curb, screaming, crying, laughing, I ripped my finger nails out, shredded my palms and hands into bloody messes my knees into bruised pulp, my head and face cut by being dragged along.
I heaved up that curb fucking curb, shaking. I started to stand and scramble forward, to escape that spot, that puddle on that road. I stood up hunched and bent, buffet by the wind, laughing, crying, waving my hands in all directions spitting, shouting, wiping blood on my jeans, I was staggering side to side shaking, soaked to the bone, I was mad, insane, disgraced and humiliated.
Why say more? I won’t go further, there is so much more but to understand it…. This was not the place for such memories. That moment all those years ago, was not the eureka moment, the next day I turned this into a joke, a story to tell.
To this day, I cannot tell you what really happened that night all those years ago, as I sit here writing and rewriting the words over and over. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I wonder what would happened if I could relive that night again, doing everything again now.
This was the time that my bubble began to burst and the real world hit me like a wave. Perhaps it was just a moment of growing pains. I’ve said it before, I’m only a cynic, all I have left is the memory of the 9th of May, a memory I visit daily.
2024.05.18 11:17 tristanfinn US: Stuck on Stupid, Biden and the Democrats Face Disaster in November – by Stewart Lawrence – 17 May 2024
https://xenagoguevicene.wordpress.com/2024/05/17/us-stuck-on-stupid-biden-and-the-democrats-face-disaster-in-november-by-stewart-lawrence-17-may-2024/
“Let them eat cake,” Marie Antoinette once famously said, disdaining the immiseration of peasants in pre-revolutionary France. Joe Biden didn’t use those exact words last week during his interview with CNN’s Erin Burnett, but his tone-deafness about the suffering of millions of Americans grappling with high food and gas prices and unaffordable rents was palpable.
Burnett did her best to allow Biden the opportunity to address voters with a measure of simple empathy – but Old Joe was having none of it. When Burnett gently suggested that Americans weren’t feeling the vaunted “recovery” the White House keeps touting, Biden all but insisted that Americans were simply wrong – and needed to buck up.
It was an embarrassing performance, and coming on the heels of Donald Trump’s remarkable mass rally in Jersey City in the midst of his trial in the Stormy Daniels case, it suggests that the White House is sinking deeper into denial about its prospects for losing – and losing big – in November.
Despite weeks of campaigning and TV ad buys in the key swing states – outspending Trump by a whopping 13-1, while the former president is largely sidelined – Biden hasn’t moved the needle in the polls. In fact, he appears to be losing ground. The latest NY Times/Siena poll has Trump up by a whopping 13 points in Nevada, 9 in Georgia, and 6 in Arizona, three states Biden carried in 2020. In Pennsylvania, where Biden recently barnstormed, Trump went from slightly behind to ahead by 3. Trump also inched up in Wisconsin, a state that many consider the pre-eminent 2024 bellwether.
Only in Michigan, where Biden clings to a 1 point lead, is there a fresh sliver of hope, and that could soon fade as the prospects for peace in Gaza slip further and further away.
Burnett’s willingness to challenge Biden on his administration’s economic performance is just one of the many signs that the mainstream media is unlikely to continue fronting for an administration that keeps gas-lighting voters with misleading data on jobs and GDP growth while a growing number of metrics point to the country’s continuing descent into full-blown stagflation.
By almost every indicator – from sagging consumer confidence and rising home prices to declining real wages and mass layoffs at major firms – Americans do not feel better off than they were during the heyday of the Trump administration – before COVID-19 and the mandated government shutdown all but destroyed the burgeoning economy, resulting in jobless numbers not seen since the Great Depression.
A large number of those jobs – maybe three-quarters – have since returned, but those are hardly jobs that Biden “created” from scratch. Americans, still traumatized by the COVID experience, are grateful for a return to a semblance of “normalcy.” But they hardly credit Biden for putting America back on a solid footing. Unemployment at 3.9%? Perhaps, but many Americans are working two jobs that still don’t pay enough to feed their families, while a record number of those without jobs are homeless – with an increase of 12% between 2022 and 2023 alone.
America, of course, has never been just one country economically, current trends mask the continuing divide. Some, in fact, were protected during COVID and large corporations reaped billions. And though funded through deepening consumer debt, the fortunes of some are now improving. But what many analysts don’t recognize is that a disproportionate share of the nouveau riche and comfortably salaried professionals, especially in government and health care, are now Democrats, not Republicans. The party may still be the “party of the working class” when it comes to the labor aristocracy in the trade unions – but those workers represent less than 10% of the total workforce. Many blue-collar workers – even a goodly share (close to half) of those in unions like the UAW – have drifted to the Trump camp, while the greater mass of non-union workers are voting GOP, and indeed, have done so for years. These voters generally don’t eat cake – not the fancy stuff, at least.
And their ranks now include a growing number of Hispanics and African Americans, especially men, who find Trump’s angry macho posturing appealing, or least comforting. “Polls are just polls,” Democrats keep saying, but we haven’t seen numbers like this since…..well ever. Trump could end up with well over 20% of the Black vote, besting the historic percentages reached by the Nixon-Ford regimes in the 1970s. And amazingly, if current trends hold, he might well take close to 50% of the Hispanic vote –besting George W. Bush’s former record of 41% in 2004, and completely reversing the more recent 2-1 – and even 3-1 – Democratic voting trend. Hispanics interviewed in Larino-rich swing states like Arizona and Nevada tell reporters a simple truth: they can’t afford the rising price of beans and tortillas, their family staple.
Something is happening to the U.S. electorate that goes far beyond Joe Biden. The old “Obama coalition” – the one that analysts John Judis and Ruy Texeira famously predicted – or, at least hoped – would become a “permanent” Democratic majority – is falling apart. It’s not just the large-scale defection of workers of colors, but of youth. Amazingly, Trump, in most polls, is now leading or tied with Biden among 18-29 year old voters, completely reversing the president’s former advantage. And while Biden leads strongly among women, some polls have the gap surprisingly narrow, while Trump’s lead among men remains wide. While the GOP is not about to become the “populist multicultural working-class coalition” that Republicans like Marco Rubio still fantasize about, Democrats are in danger of losing their once broad demographic support, giving Trump and GOP a fresh opening not just in 2024 – but well beyond.
The good news? Signs of a serious freak-out — and even a potential meltdown – about Biden’s prospects in November – once dismissed as mere “bed-wetting” – are finally appearing among party pooh-bahs. Witness the remarkable drunken rant of former Clinton strategist James Carville posted on Twitter last week. Never one to mince words, an angry and exasperated Carville bemoaned the continuing slide of Biden in the polls and confessed that “nothing is working” to convince disaffected Democratic voters to return to the fold. “You can prepare and you can be on TV, you can write pieces, you can have a YouTube channel, you can have a podcast…and it doesn’t matter. Everything we’re throwing is spaghetti at a wall, and none of it is sticking, me included,” he fumed.
Another staunch Biden supporter, CNN’s Farid Zakaria, also took to the airwaves to issue his own stern warning about Biden’s rapidly diminishing prospects. In a blistering six minute review, he listed one area after another where Trump’s political resurrection and standing with voters is exceeding expectations, noting that a landslide win – including a popular vote victory – by Trump in November was looming. Zakaria even broke with the party line on Trump’s presumed “criminality.” suggesting that the four legal trials aimed at discrediting the former president were largely motivated by simple politics, not a concern for justice. “I doubt a criminal indictment in New York would have been brought against a defendant whose name wasn’t Donald Trump,” he deadpanned.
Could all this dire hand-wringing lead to another public call for Biden to step down? That seems highly unlikely for now. Top White House apologists like Simon Rosneberg and Jim Messina continue to insist that Biden is simply suffering from the usual presidential first-term blues – disaffection at the base combined with pre-general election apathy among all voters. Sustained outreach coupled with a persistent hammering of the challenger can turn things around, they say. Once voters realize what the real stakes are – democracy, abortion rights, climate change – and the threat posed by Trump, they’ll surely pull a lever for Biden, even if it’s not with great enthusiasm.
It sounds logical – but the accumulating evidence strongly suggests otherwise. Most voters do question Trump’s commitment to upholding democracy, but nearly as many now question Biden’s. And by a wide margin, they also rate Trump as a stronger and more effective leader. Trump enjoys a 10 to 20-point edge over Biden on the handling of the economy overall, inflation, immigration, crime and foreign and defense policy which are also deemed by voters to be the nation’s top issues. Dismissing this perception – and support for Trump generally – as a form of irrational “nostalgia”– as pro-Biden pundits continue to do, is self-defeating. 2024 wasn’t destined to become a classic “change” election – not with a current incumbent battling a former scandal-ridden one – but that’s what it’s becoming. By all appearances, 2024 is now Donald Trump’s to lose.
Of course, there’s still six months left before the election – and “anything can happen.” But anything includes a further deterioration of Biden’s position. One election-year wild card Democrats clearly didn’t count on was Gaza, which has only compounded voter concerns about Biden’s weakness on the world stage. The chimera of a pending peace may have helped Biden in the polls in Michigan recently – the one battleground where he’s gained ground just slightly – but it’s unlikely to last. Despite mounting pressure from the White House– or perhaps because of it – Netanyahu is digging in his heels and will likely stall in any deal until November, hoping that Trump wins and gives Israel a freer hand to prosecute the war as it sees fit. By trying to have it both ways – castigating Netanyahu publicly, while sending massive new amounts of military aid, Biden has managed to alienate Arab-Americans and Jews both, while leaving many undecided voters both aghast at the carnage and dismayed by Biden’s obvious pandering to both sides.
“Genocide Joe” and the Democrats could well face a decline in support thirty highly competitive congressional districts where the Arab-American vote (though relatively small nationally) is large enough to make a difference, and not just in Michigan. But a loss of support among the much larger and traditionally Democrat-leaning Jewish population – concentrated heavily in the four main “Blue” states, California, Florida, New York and New Jersey – could also weigh heavily on key House and Senate races. And if Trump is right – God forbid – it could even help put New Jersey – where Biden won by 16 points in 2020 – in play for the first time in years.
“We need to do something completely different,” Carville moaned at the conclusion of his recent Twitter rant, before wandering, Biden-like, off camera. But from all appearances, the Democrats, right now, have no Plan B. Not in Gaza or anywhere else.
Biden’s apologists insist on comparing his re-election prospects to Obama’s in 2012, when a once-popular incumbent began sinking in the polls, and for six months prior to the election, seemed headed to defeat, only to pull out of his tailspin, thanks to Bill Clinton and Hurricane Sandy. But the more obvious if daunting parallel might be Jimmy Carter’s predicament 30 years earlier. In 1980, Carter was saddled with domestic discontent over inflation, a general feeling of pessimism and malaise, and a series of intractable foreign policy challenges, including a never-ending hostage crisis. Ronald Reagan – whom Democrats derided as a right-wing “madman” – threatened Carter’s re-election. Democrats were clearly rattled by Reagan’s rise in the polls and decided to play it safe, pivoting to the center and closing ranks against Ted Kennedy, who enjoyed a fierce loyalty among liberals. There are eerie parallels to Biden’s predicament today, with another Kennedy RFK, Jr., Teddy’s nephew, stoking discontent. And of course, there’s another madman, Trump, fueling a right-wing insurgency – or in this case, resurgence.
Overconfidence and a misreading of the public mood killed Carter in the end. Right up to the final week of the campaign, he enjoyed a small but seemingly unshakable single-digit lead over Reagan.. Most pundits – and Carter’s senior advisors – confidently predicted victory. It was conceivable that voters would choose as their leader a man steeped in anticommunism, pro-life family policies while promising – much like Trump – to “make America great again.”
But Reagan won big. Capitalizing on a groundswell of discontent with Carter, even among Democrats missed by pollsters, the Gipper, ended up winning by a whopping 10 points, with a near-landslide in the electoral college. The party, shut out of power for the next 12 years, eventually recovered, but it wasn’t easy. Bill Clinton led the Democratic comeback, largely by moving the party even further to the right than Carter had. And America – saddled with Reagan’s legacy of militarism and free market fundamentalism for much of the past half century – has never been the same.
Is it really too late to reconsider Biden’s faltering candidacy? LBJ, facing antiwar opposition, pulled out before the Democratic convention in 1968, at roughly the same distance from the election that year. Democrats are headed for another potentially riotous convention – and in Chicago, no less – which will only further damage Biden’s standing with the public. Most Democrats, shocked by the prospects of Trump 2.0, are quietly loitering in the shadows, just holding their breath, while an increasingly emboldened right – championing their beleaguered King – is eagerly waiting to exhale.
Democrats, it seems, are destined to soldier on. They missed their chance to replace Biden painlessly months ago, and are now stuck on stupid. Barring a miracle, the price for their cowardice and lack of vision is likely to be severe.
submitted by tristanfinn to HarpiesBizarre [link] [comments]
“Let them eat cake,” Marie Antoinette once famously said, disdaining the immiseration of peasants in pre-revolutionary France. Joe Biden didn’t use those exact words last week during his interview with CNN’s Erin Burnett, but his tone-deafness about the suffering of millions of Americans grappling with high food and gas prices and unaffordable rents was palpable.
Burnett did her best to allow Biden the opportunity to address voters with a measure of simple empathy – but Old Joe was having none of it. When Burnett gently suggested that Americans weren’t feeling the vaunted “recovery” the White House keeps touting, Biden all but insisted that Americans were simply wrong – and needed to buck up.
It was an embarrassing performance, and coming on the heels of Donald Trump’s remarkable mass rally in Jersey City in the midst of his trial in the Stormy Daniels case, it suggests that the White House is sinking deeper into denial about its prospects for losing – and losing big – in November.
Despite weeks of campaigning and TV ad buys in the key swing states – outspending Trump by a whopping 13-1, while the former president is largely sidelined – Biden hasn’t moved the needle in the polls. In fact, he appears to be losing ground. The latest NY Times/Siena poll has Trump up by a whopping 13 points in Nevada, 9 in Georgia, and 6 in Arizona, three states Biden carried in 2020. In Pennsylvania, where Biden recently barnstormed, Trump went from slightly behind to ahead by 3. Trump also inched up in Wisconsin, a state that many consider the pre-eminent 2024 bellwether.
Only in Michigan, where Biden clings to a 1 point lead, is there a fresh sliver of hope, and that could soon fade as the prospects for peace in Gaza slip further and further away.
Burnett’s willingness to challenge Biden on his administration’s economic performance is just one of the many signs that the mainstream media is unlikely to continue fronting for an administration that keeps gas-lighting voters with misleading data on jobs and GDP growth while a growing number of metrics point to the country’s continuing descent into full-blown stagflation.
By almost every indicator – from sagging consumer confidence and rising home prices to declining real wages and mass layoffs at major firms – Americans do not feel better off than they were during the heyday of the Trump administration – before COVID-19 and the mandated government shutdown all but destroyed the burgeoning economy, resulting in jobless numbers not seen since the Great Depression.
A large number of those jobs – maybe three-quarters – have since returned, but those are hardly jobs that Biden “created” from scratch. Americans, still traumatized by the COVID experience, are grateful for a return to a semblance of “normalcy.” But they hardly credit Biden for putting America back on a solid footing. Unemployment at 3.9%? Perhaps, but many Americans are working two jobs that still don’t pay enough to feed their families, while a record number of those without jobs are homeless – with an increase of 12% between 2022 and 2023 alone.
America, of course, has never been just one country economically, current trends mask the continuing divide. Some, in fact, were protected during COVID and large corporations reaped billions. And though funded through deepening consumer debt, the fortunes of some are now improving. But what many analysts don’t recognize is that a disproportionate share of the nouveau riche and comfortably salaried professionals, especially in government and health care, are now Democrats, not Republicans. The party may still be the “party of the working class” when it comes to the labor aristocracy in the trade unions – but those workers represent less than 10% of the total workforce. Many blue-collar workers – even a goodly share (close to half) of those in unions like the UAW – have drifted to the Trump camp, while the greater mass of non-union workers are voting GOP, and indeed, have done so for years. These voters generally don’t eat cake – not the fancy stuff, at least.
And their ranks now include a growing number of Hispanics and African Americans, especially men, who find Trump’s angry macho posturing appealing, or least comforting. “Polls are just polls,” Democrats keep saying, but we haven’t seen numbers like this since…..well ever. Trump could end up with well over 20% of the Black vote, besting the historic percentages reached by the Nixon-Ford regimes in the 1970s. And amazingly, if current trends hold, he might well take close to 50% of the Hispanic vote –besting George W. Bush’s former record of 41% in 2004, and completely reversing the more recent 2-1 – and even 3-1 – Democratic voting trend. Hispanics interviewed in Larino-rich swing states like Arizona and Nevada tell reporters a simple truth: they can’t afford the rising price of beans and tortillas, their family staple.
Something is happening to the U.S. electorate that goes far beyond Joe Biden. The old “Obama coalition” – the one that analysts John Judis and Ruy Texeira famously predicted – or, at least hoped – would become a “permanent” Democratic majority – is falling apart. It’s not just the large-scale defection of workers of colors, but of youth. Amazingly, Trump, in most polls, is now leading or tied with Biden among 18-29 year old voters, completely reversing the president’s former advantage. And while Biden leads strongly among women, some polls have the gap surprisingly narrow, while Trump’s lead among men remains wide. While the GOP is not about to become the “populist multicultural working-class coalition” that Republicans like Marco Rubio still fantasize about, Democrats are in danger of losing their once broad demographic support, giving Trump and GOP a fresh opening not just in 2024 – but well beyond.
The good news? Signs of a serious freak-out — and even a potential meltdown – about Biden’s prospects in November – once dismissed as mere “bed-wetting” – are finally appearing among party pooh-bahs. Witness the remarkable drunken rant of former Clinton strategist James Carville posted on Twitter last week. Never one to mince words, an angry and exasperated Carville bemoaned the continuing slide of Biden in the polls and confessed that “nothing is working” to convince disaffected Democratic voters to return to the fold. “You can prepare and you can be on TV, you can write pieces, you can have a YouTube channel, you can have a podcast…and it doesn’t matter. Everything we’re throwing is spaghetti at a wall, and none of it is sticking, me included,” he fumed.
Another staunch Biden supporter, CNN’s Farid Zakaria, also took to the airwaves to issue his own stern warning about Biden’s rapidly diminishing prospects. In a blistering six minute review, he listed one area after another where Trump’s political resurrection and standing with voters is exceeding expectations, noting that a landslide win – including a popular vote victory – by Trump in November was looming. Zakaria even broke with the party line on Trump’s presumed “criminality.” suggesting that the four legal trials aimed at discrediting the former president were largely motivated by simple politics, not a concern for justice. “I doubt a criminal indictment in New York would have been brought against a defendant whose name wasn’t Donald Trump,” he deadpanned.
Could all this dire hand-wringing lead to another public call for Biden to step down? That seems highly unlikely for now. Top White House apologists like Simon Rosneberg and Jim Messina continue to insist that Biden is simply suffering from the usual presidential first-term blues – disaffection at the base combined with pre-general election apathy among all voters. Sustained outreach coupled with a persistent hammering of the challenger can turn things around, they say. Once voters realize what the real stakes are – democracy, abortion rights, climate change – and the threat posed by Trump, they’ll surely pull a lever for Biden, even if it’s not with great enthusiasm.
It sounds logical – but the accumulating evidence strongly suggests otherwise. Most voters do question Trump’s commitment to upholding democracy, but nearly as many now question Biden’s. And by a wide margin, they also rate Trump as a stronger and more effective leader. Trump enjoys a 10 to 20-point edge over Biden on the handling of the economy overall, inflation, immigration, crime and foreign and defense policy which are also deemed by voters to be the nation’s top issues. Dismissing this perception – and support for Trump generally – as a form of irrational “nostalgia”– as pro-Biden pundits continue to do, is self-defeating. 2024 wasn’t destined to become a classic “change” election – not with a current incumbent battling a former scandal-ridden one – but that’s what it’s becoming. By all appearances, 2024 is now Donald Trump’s to lose.
Of course, there’s still six months left before the election – and “anything can happen.” But anything includes a further deterioration of Biden’s position. One election-year wild card Democrats clearly didn’t count on was Gaza, which has only compounded voter concerns about Biden’s weakness on the world stage. The chimera of a pending peace may have helped Biden in the polls in Michigan recently – the one battleground where he’s gained ground just slightly – but it’s unlikely to last. Despite mounting pressure from the White House– or perhaps because of it – Netanyahu is digging in his heels and will likely stall in any deal until November, hoping that Trump wins and gives Israel a freer hand to prosecute the war as it sees fit. By trying to have it both ways – castigating Netanyahu publicly, while sending massive new amounts of military aid, Biden has managed to alienate Arab-Americans and Jews both, while leaving many undecided voters both aghast at the carnage and dismayed by Biden’s obvious pandering to both sides.
“Genocide Joe” and the Democrats could well face a decline in support thirty highly competitive congressional districts where the Arab-American vote (though relatively small nationally) is large enough to make a difference, and not just in Michigan. But a loss of support among the much larger and traditionally Democrat-leaning Jewish population – concentrated heavily in the four main “Blue” states, California, Florida, New York and New Jersey – could also weigh heavily on key House and Senate races. And if Trump is right – God forbid – it could even help put New Jersey – where Biden won by 16 points in 2020 – in play for the first time in years.
“We need to do something completely different,” Carville moaned at the conclusion of his recent Twitter rant, before wandering, Biden-like, off camera. But from all appearances, the Democrats, right now, have no Plan B. Not in Gaza or anywhere else.
Biden’s apologists insist on comparing his re-election prospects to Obama’s in 2012, when a once-popular incumbent began sinking in the polls, and for six months prior to the election, seemed headed to defeat, only to pull out of his tailspin, thanks to Bill Clinton and Hurricane Sandy. But the more obvious if daunting parallel might be Jimmy Carter’s predicament 30 years earlier. In 1980, Carter was saddled with domestic discontent over inflation, a general feeling of pessimism and malaise, and a series of intractable foreign policy challenges, including a never-ending hostage crisis. Ronald Reagan – whom Democrats derided as a right-wing “madman” – threatened Carter’s re-election. Democrats were clearly rattled by Reagan’s rise in the polls and decided to play it safe, pivoting to the center and closing ranks against Ted Kennedy, who enjoyed a fierce loyalty among liberals. There are eerie parallels to Biden’s predicament today, with another Kennedy RFK, Jr., Teddy’s nephew, stoking discontent. And of course, there’s another madman, Trump, fueling a right-wing insurgency – or in this case, resurgence.
Overconfidence and a misreading of the public mood killed Carter in the end. Right up to the final week of the campaign, he enjoyed a small but seemingly unshakable single-digit lead over Reagan.. Most pundits – and Carter’s senior advisors – confidently predicted victory. It was conceivable that voters would choose as their leader a man steeped in anticommunism, pro-life family policies while promising – much like Trump – to “make America great again.”
But Reagan won big. Capitalizing on a groundswell of discontent with Carter, even among Democrats missed by pollsters, the Gipper, ended up winning by a whopping 10 points, with a near-landslide in the electoral college. The party, shut out of power for the next 12 years, eventually recovered, but it wasn’t easy. Bill Clinton led the Democratic comeback, largely by moving the party even further to the right than Carter had. And America – saddled with Reagan’s legacy of militarism and free market fundamentalism for much of the past half century – has never been the same.
Is it really too late to reconsider Biden’s faltering candidacy? LBJ, facing antiwar opposition, pulled out before the Democratic convention in 1968, at roughly the same distance from the election that year. Democrats are headed for another potentially riotous convention – and in Chicago, no less – which will only further damage Biden’s standing with the public. Most Democrats, shocked by the prospects of Trump 2.0, are quietly loitering in the shadows, just holding their breath, while an increasingly emboldened right – championing their beleaguered King – is eagerly waiting to exhale.
Democrats, it seems, are destined to soldier on. They missed their chance to replace Biden painlessly months ago, and are now stuck on stupid. Barring a miracle, the price for their cowardice and lack of vision is likely to be severe.
2024.05.18 06:15 NewInspector2844 SHOULD I BUY THIS???
 | Assalam wa alaikum!!! submitted by NewInspector2844 to PakGamers [link] [comments] Please let me know about delivery charges taxes and custom duties etc. https://preview.redd.it/heasl60c241d1.png?width=1919&format=png&auto=webp&s=5a78d79306b1cebf0ca90c341297527fdff676be |
2024.05.18 06:02 Unable_Car4833 [R] 1:10 Radio Controlled Car autonomous driving
I heavily need some advice want to be able to create a machine learning model that takes image input from 2 stereo cameras and outputs throttle and steering. I am racing this car on a track, from a platform that outlooks the track. My thinking is to create a depth and disparity map of the racetrack and pin point the car and then track it based on the disparity map. I am getting throttle and steering data in real time from the car. How can I go about making a machine learning model that would take in image input and predict throttle/steering?
submitted by Unable_Car4833 to MachineLearning [link] [comments]
2024.05.18 05:59 Unable_Car4833 1:10 radio controlled Car self driving
I heavily need some advice want to be able to create a machine learning model that takes image input from 2 stereo cameras and outputs throttle and steering. I am racing this car on a track, from a platform that outlooks the track. My thinking is to create a depth and disparity map of the racetrack and pin point the car and then track it based on the disparity map. I am getting throttle and steering data in real time from the car. How can I go about making a machine learning model that would take in image input and predict throttle/steering?
submitted by Unable_Car4833 to computervision [link] [comments]
2024.05.18 03:01 Bushels_of_ash The 9th of May
Did you know that memories aren’t real? No? Not really, you can misremember or change a memory without ever knowing you have. It’s a sinisterly important fact for me, some would be worried but I find it freeing, I can share this memory without fear or shame. I most likely haven’t remembered what happened as it happened, and considering what happened on the 9th of May all those years ago, I’d say it’s likely I don’t remember. It’s a relief really that memories aren’t real; I have always hated talking about my memories, about myself in general. In my experience, people are not interested in what I have to say, unless it relates to them or it makes me look less than them. Maybe it’s all in my head, everything is really. I’m not the most people friendly these days, I think you could call me a cynic, I call myself a cynic, but I’ll try and keep true to this memory, without the influence of hindsight and my cynicism.
It’s about that puddle and the 9th of May. Why the specifically the 9th of May? Well I don’t actually know why that day, it could have easily been the 8th, the difference is hours. I do wish I could change the setting; it’s almost poetic, I could always be misremembering, it was a long time ago, and I have been told many times since that I have a flair for the dramatic. A dark and rainy night, with the wind howling, well that’s a backdrop I can enjoy.
I’m sorry. Let me start at the beginning for the sake of clarity, otherwise I’ll never finish what I start to say, and I’ll never say what I need to say.
Once upon a time I went to a party. I enjoyed drinking back then, a healthy amount for most people, but for me, a dangerous amount, I had a tendency to get inside my head when I drink.
No again I’m sorry, that’s not the memory I want to share, I want to tell the 9th of May, I think this memory will be harder to tell than I first thought.
It was a birthday party for a friend, well a friend of a friend, I knew two people there, I was speaking my wisdom at the party, normally people would just nod and slide away from that kind of wisdom, but this was during the university days, everyone is intelligent, insightful and understanding at university. We few were the self-proclaimed leaders of the future, and so understood all, my green wisdom spewed with no start or finish was always well received. I remember some of what I said, you can walk into any pub or club and listen to the drunkest person in the room, they would have spewed the same wisdom, wisdom that I thought at the time was original and wise, but really was just old sentiment repeated with new words. Despite what I wanted at the time, wisdom comes with age, not self-assurance.
But this time was my spring years, that sweet age just before I faced reality, the real harsh reality of life, I had just begun to explore the world inside my bubble, and my exploration lead me onto the well-trodden path of clubbing and drinking, the respectable rebellion. I began as I always did, by talking, talking of going to some event, a lecture, a monument, an underground pub, of all the things I could do that evening, the places I could go, I and the other future leaders of the world, the potential was ours to squander. This ended as it always would, in that night club, the very same one I would always go to, my slice of reality. Apologies my dear reader, I have a cynical mind, it’s hard to keep at bay, I’ll admit that I haven’t really tried to keep it from being an influence here, I can’t seem to help myself, but this next part of the memory is less clear, but I can relay it with a real, shame filled joy. This part of the memory feels more like a dream now, I don’t have the energy to do what I did that night, I don’t have the energy for much these days, I think that makes the memory more fond to me, drinking, dancing, worry free. Maybe fond was the wrong word to use here, jealous is more fitting, jealous of the innocence and time I wasted. The power of a drink back then was incredible; I miss the feeling, that burn in the mouth, the after taste, the saliva, the heat in your chest, and that feeling of being unstoppable. Of course drink has more than one effect, and while I’d like to believe my cloudy memory is caused by false and misremembered facts, or by the merging of a hundred single nights into one endless night, that’s too poetic. No, the memory is clouded by the amount I drunk that night, and many years after as I tried to forget this very memory.
Yet despite this, even now, the fragments still makes me smile, whether it’s because I enjoy the memories of the innocence I held then, or I’m jealous of them I cannot say, I’m a self-proclaimed cynic, not a philosopher or a psychologist, I’ll leave the analysis to better men than me. Instead I’ll try to give you an idea of what happened in the club without my opinions bleeding through. This night in the club was no different from all the others, they all start the same. Moving around the club in a daze, my head feeling big and unsteady, but also incredibly light and empty, my fingertips warm, my feet numb, I remember dancing to songs, dancing on tables, screaming out lyrics, smoking outside, stealing a bottle of champagne, fixing my hair in a mirror, buying a round of drinks, the lights flashing, the bass thumping, fog spewing, standing on my own staring at the old chandelier, crawling on the floor looking for money, I remember walking out the club and how quiet everything seemed in comparison while I tried to keep standing in the night air, looking at my hands, how bright the lights were, how blurry the world seemed and how beautiful the moon was that night. Here, here the memory starts to come back into focus, the bright street lights and night air always helped me to sober up at night, plus I’ve always enjoyed being outside in the dark night or under the moonlight, I find it comforting to stand under the moon, it’s as if I’m suddenly alive.
As I came to my senses my memory sharpened, but that’s all, my drunkenness remained. I was with a couple of friends, some who I had been at the party with and some who I met in the club, we got food, and we spent such a long time talking, our conversations were mixed, some happy, some sad, all just more green wisdom. Much later on, me and my friend, maybe the one I went to the party with (it might have been someone else, who’s to say?), walked back towards our homes not because we wanted to walk as we said over and over to our screeching friends, but because the taxi was expensive and we couldn’t afford it, we lived in different places but close enough that we could walk together. Its funny to think of this moment, back then I had the money for a taxi, but I wouldn’t spend it on a taxi, now that I’m a poor man, I’ll spend money I don’t have on taxis I don’t need, apparently the youthful idiot I was, was wiser than I am now in some regards after all. I don’t remember walking with my friend, or rather, I know where we went, how long it took and what we probably talked about, I had walked this walk so many times before this night, and so many after, they are all the same memory to me now, I enjoyed the walking in the night, the exhilaration of that has stayed with me more than the company on those walks. I always used to break it down into three segments, and so that’s how it comes back to me now. Leaving the club, past the library, past the race track, over the river across the bridge, up the steep hill, past the first university gates (which were actually the back gates), round the campus on the public roads, to the second gates (which are the main gates), a long walk with company, a painfully short one with alone. He was still living on the Campus my friend, I lived about ten minutes away from the campus, I said goodbye and goodnight, we agreed to speak in the morning if we survived. He went through the back gates and headed towards the halls, I continued on my way, onto the second segment of the walk past the gates. I was on my own for the rest of the walk; this happened a lot, both during my university days and many years after. I lived on the opposite side of the campus to most of my friends so this part of the walk was always mine alone, even when I started the night with the people I lived with. I didn’t mind, it was nice to enjoy the feeling of being drunk without having to show I was drunk, a few assured moments of peace under the moon light. I never deviated from my path, round the outside of the campus, opposite some housing estates, till I got next to a little shop that sold cheap, bottles of spirit. I would always stop for a moment to wish that shop was open.
Then it was down that straight road, the final part of my walk, big houses on either side, well-lit but not busy. It looked like it was a five minute walk but once you started it felt like it was never ending, and at the end of the night, in the night air, it was never ending. Sometimes I would run, sprint to see if I could make it to the end of that road without stopping, something to break the monotony of walking, other times to tire myself out so I could fall straight to sleep, and sometimes just because I wanted to run. Nearly every day for two years I walked down that road to go clubbing shopping or studying, to go for a meal, see a film, meet a friend, it was a constant part of my life, an unwanted companion and witness. Walking down that road, reader I don’t think I’m able to describe how I hated that road, but I always walked down that road, there were other ways I could walk, quicker ways, but I always took that road.
This particular night, actually at this point I suppose it was the morning. I was walking down that road in the rain and dark between the streetlights, bitterly cold staring straight into a street light walking on the right hand side. I’d always walk on the right hand side, I’m not sure why, whenever I walked on the left I had a bad day. Except for on the 9th, the 9th is the one exception.
I have no clue where the car came from; I didn’t see it until after the jump, just a blurred headlight, a door, a wing mirror. The driver, the make, the model, even the color is a mystery. It appeared and left like a phantom. There was no thought, I moved forward, but I don’t recognize that I was the one who leapt forward.
I remember the fall. I fell backwards. As if my strings had been cut and I fell limp into the puddle, there was no splash as I landed in that puddle.
The feeling I felt in that puddle, it was something I had never felt before or since, an overwhelming pull I was powerless against, I pray to never to feel it again.
Should I describe it? How to describe it? I have to describe it. I can describe the fear it inspired, but not yet, it’s easier to describe fear, but this isn’t meant to be easy, this memory never is. No the actual feeling, that’s harder, It wasn’t a happy emotion, not a powerful emotion, not a sad emotion. Hopelessness? Yes it was hopelessness. Nothing more, nothing less. No hope for the future, no point to anything, I think it is possibly the only time I felt hopelessness. You can’t live without hope.
I couldn’t stand could I? No, I wouldn’t have laid there if I could, to begin with I didn’t want to, didn’t care to, my legs wouldn’t move, arms were like stone, every muscle in my body cramped, I could feel everything. My eyes were open, rain hitting them, rain dripped from my lips to my chin, it tickled. The fingertips were warm, hair moved, stand by stand off my face. Puddle water lapped against my cheek, socks soaking up water, shirt getting tighter and heavier, jacket sleeves filling up with water, keys and wallet resting on my leg. I just lay there staring at nothing, seeing nothing. I think to begin with I was gone; that everything I held myself up to and was trying to achieve, had suddenly left me, except my memories, memories that weren’t real. For the longest time that’s how I was, empty, even down to my emotions there was nothing I laid there empty. I could feel my body, but I couldn’t move it, I wasn’t welcome, I felt awkward, out of place. I’m not sure how long I lay there, dead (I had to be dead because I had no hope), it could have been a minute; it could have been hours, days or years.
The light was wrong. It was dark, only the light seemed to come from a streetlight, the sky was empty, the moon had left me.
Some portion of my mind came back, I started crying, I had failed, failed at even this simple task, I lay for a long time waiting, waiting for something else to come, I should have gotten up, but I just lay there waiting, I was muttering my secret . If that had been my mind for the rest of my days, I would have spent those days in that puddle unmoving; declared brain dead on the spot. The moment raises such disgust in me, I grieved my most important failure, hated my greatest success.
I’d like to lie here, to say anything other than the truth, to save myself the pain and the shame, but I said I would try to tell this memory as it was, not as I wish it, so while I’d like to say I had a vison, a burst of strength, that hope returned to me, I can’t, because in reality it was two words that saved me.
Two words. The Two words that cut through it all. I’m still not sure if I just heard them from somewhere else, said it myself or imagined it afterwards. “Get up” it was angry, disgusted, the words were almost spat out, “Get up”.
Those words have burned themselves into my mind, and affected me every day since. The fear and inspiration it awoke in my mind, throat pricked and butterflies in my stomach, anxiety. Next to the hopelessness it seemed like life had spoken, with a voice that wielded fear.
I took control of my body then……
No dear reader I didn’t…. I am almost finished, I have to be true to the memory, I can’t spare myself now, it’s too late for me to take it back.
I didn’t take control, I wasn’t there yet, it took me such a long time to regain control again, but it gave my eyes back to me for I had seen nothing long before the fall. I watched as fear drove me, took the strings of my life and moved them, dragging my shell in the dust, screaming.
I cursed everyone and everything, hated myself for what had happened, Oh and the fear, fear of the voice, fear of dying, the fear that someone would see me at this moment, see me and misunderstand me, I didn’t want to die,(I don’t want to die now) I was terrified that I had tried to die, terrified I didn’t know where that urge came from, that moment of energy and intention that was actioned without the consent of my mind, that I was powerless against.
Fear drove me, commanded me out of that puddle. I’d gone insane, truly, completely, utterly mad, I was dragging myself to the curb, screaming, crying, laughing, I ripped my finger nails out, shredded my palms and hands into bloody messes my knees into bruised pulp, my head and face cut by being dragged along.
I heaved up that curb fucking curb, shaking. I started to stand and scramble forward, to escape that spot, that puddle on that road. I stood up hunched and bent, buffet by the wind, laughing, crying, waving my hands in all directions spitting, shouting, wiping blood on my jeans, I was staggering side to side shaking, soaked to the bone, I was mad, insane, disgraced and humiliated.
Why say more? I won’t go further, there is so much more but to understand it…. This was not the place for such memories. That moment all those years ago, was not the eureka moment, the next day I turned this into a joke, a story to tell.
To this day, I cannot tell you what really happened that night all those years ago, as I sit here writing and rewriting the words over and over. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I wonder what would happened if I could relive that night again, doing everything again now. This was the time that my bubble began to burst and the real world hit me like a wave. Perhaps it was just a moment of growing pains. I’ve said it before, I’m only a cynic, all I have left is the memory of the 9th of May, a memory I visit daily.
submitted by Bushels_of_ash to WritersGroup [link] [comments]
It’s about that puddle and the 9th of May. Why the specifically the 9th of May? Well I don’t actually know why that day, it could have easily been the 8th, the difference is hours. I do wish I could change the setting; it’s almost poetic, I could always be misremembering, it was a long time ago, and I have been told many times since that I have a flair for the dramatic. A dark and rainy night, with the wind howling, well that’s a backdrop I can enjoy.
I’m sorry. Let me start at the beginning for the sake of clarity, otherwise I’ll never finish what I start to say, and I’ll never say what I need to say.
Once upon a time I went to a party. I enjoyed drinking back then, a healthy amount for most people, but for me, a dangerous amount, I had a tendency to get inside my head when I drink.
No again I’m sorry, that’s not the memory I want to share, I want to tell the 9th of May, I think this memory will be harder to tell than I first thought.
It was a birthday party for a friend, well a friend of a friend, I knew two people there, I was speaking my wisdom at the party, normally people would just nod and slide away from that kind of wisdom, but this was during the university days, everyone is intelligent, insightful and understanding at university. We few were the self-proclaimed leaders of the future, and so understood all, my green wisdom spewed with no start or finish was always well received. I remember some of what I said, you can walk into any pub or club and listen to the drunkest person in the room, they would have spewed the same wisdom, wisdom that I thought at the time was original and wise, but really was just old sentiment repeated with new words. Despite what I wanted at the time, wisdom comes with age, not self-assurance.
But this time was my spring years, that sweet age just before I faced reality, the real harsh reality of life, I had just begun to explore the world inside my bubble, and my exploration lead me onto the well-trodden path of clubbing and drinking, the respectable rebellion. I began as I always did, by talking, talking of going to some event, a lecture, a monument, an underground pub, of all the things I could do that evening, the places I could go, I and the other future leaders of the world, the potential was ours to squander. This ended as it always would, in that night club, the very same one I would always go to, my slice of reality. Apologies my dear reader, I have a cynical mind, it’s hard to keep at bay, I’ll admit that I haven’t really tried to keep it from being an influence here, I can’t seem to help myself, but this next part of the memory is less clear, but I can relay it with a real, shame filled joy. This part of the memory feels more like a dream now, I don’t have the energy to do what I did that night, I don’t have the energy for much these days, I think that makes the memory more fond to me, drinking, dancing, worry free. Maybe fond was the wrong word to use here, jealous is more fitting, jealous of the innocence and time I wasted. The power of a drink back then was incredible; I miss the feeling, that burn in the mouth, the after taste, the saliva, the heat in your chest, and that feeling of being unstoppable. Of course drink has more than one effect, and while I’d like to believe my cloudy memory is caused by false and misremembered facts, or by the merging of a hundred single nights into one endless night, that’s too poetic. No, the memory is clouded by the amount I drunk that night, and many years after as I tried to forget this very memory.
Yet despite this, even now, the fragments still makes me smile, whether it’s because I enjoy the memories of the innocence I held then, or I’m jealous of them I cannot say, I’m a self-proclaimed cynic, not a philosopher or a psychologist, I’ll leave the analysis to better men than me. Instead I’ll try to give you an idea of what happened in the club without my opinions bleeding through. This night in the club was no different from all the others, they all start the same. Moving around the club in a daze, my head feeling big and unsteady, but also incredibly light and empty, my fingertips warm, my feet numb, I remember dancing to songs, dancing on tables, screaming out lyrics, smoking outside, stealing a bottle of champagne, fixing my hair in a mirror, buying a round of drinks, the lights flashing, the bass thumping, fog spewing, standing on my own staring at the old chandelier, crawling on the floor looking for money, I remember walking out the club and how quiet everything seemed in comparison while I tried to keep standing in the night air, looking at my hands, how bright the lights were, how blurry the world seemed and how beautiful the moon was that night. Here, here the memory starts to come back into focus, the bright street lights and night air always helped me to sober up at night, plus I’ve always enjoyed being outside in the dark night or under the moonlight, I find it comforting to stand under the moon, it’s as if I’m suddenly alive.
As I came to my senses my memory sharpened, but that’s all, my drunkenness remained. I was with a couple of friends, some who I had been at the party with and some who I met in the club, we got food, and we spent such a long time talking, our conversations were mixed, some happy, some sad, all just more green wisdom. Much later on, me and my friend, maybe the one I went to the party with (it might have been someone else, who’s to say?), walked back towards our homes not because we wanted to walk as we said over and over to our screeching friends, but because the taxi was expensive and we couldn’t afford it, we lived in different places but close enough that we could walk together. Its funny to think of this moment, back then I had the money for a taxi, but I wouldn’t spend it on a taxi, now that I’m a poor man, I’ll spend money I don’t have on taxis I don’t need, apparently the youthful idiot I was, was wiser than I am now in some regards after all. I don’t remember walking with my friend, or rather, I know where we went, how long it took and what we probably talked about, I had walked this walk so many times before this night, and so many after, they are all the same memory to me now, I enjoyed the walking in the night, the exhilaration of that has stayed with me more than the company on those walks. I always used to break it down into three segments, and so that’s how it comes back to me now. Leaving the club, past the library, past the race track, over the river across the bridge, up the steep hill, past the first university gates (which were actually the back gates), round the campus on the public roads, to the second gates (which are the main gates), a long walk with company, a painfully short one with alone. He was still living on the Campus my friend, I lived about ten minutes away from the campus, I said goodbye and goodnight, we agreed to speak in the morning if we survived. He went through the back gates and headed towards the halls, I continued on my way, onto the second segment of the walk past the gates. I was on my own for the rest of the walk; this happened a lot, both during my university days and many years after. I lived on the opposite side of the campus to most of my friends so this part of the walk was always mine alone, even when I started the night with the people I lived with. I didn’t mind, it was nice to enjoy the feeling of being drunk without having to show I was drunk, a few assured moments of peace under the moon light. I never deviated from my path, round the outside of the campus, opposite some housing estates, till I got next to a little shop that sold cheap, bottles of spirit. I would always stop for a moment to wish that shop was open.
Then it was down that straight road, the final part of my walk, big houses on either side, well-lit but not busy. It looked like it was a five minute walk but once you started it felt like it was never ending, and at the end of the night, in the night air, it was never ending. Sometimes I would run, sprint to see if I could make it to the end of that road without stopping, something to break the monotony of walking, other times to tire myself out so I could fall straight to sleep, and sometimes just because I wanted to run. Nearly every day for two years I walked down that road to go clubbing shopping or studying, to go for a meal, see a film, meet a friend, it was a constant part of my life, an unwanted companion and witness. Walking down that road, reader I don’t think I’m able to describe how I hated that road, but I always walked down that road, there were other ways I could walk, quicker ways, but I always took that road.
This particular night, actually at this point I suppose it was the morning. I was walking down that road in the rain and dark between the streetlights, bitterly cold staring straight into a street light walking on the right hand side. I’d always walk on the right hand side, I’m not sure why, whenever I walked on the left I had a bad day. Except for on the 9th, the 9th is the one exception.
I have no clue where the car came from; I didn’t see it until after the jump, just a blurred headlight, a door, a wing mirror. The driver, the make, the model, even the color is a mystery. It appeared and left like a phantom. There was no thought, I moved forward, but I don’t recognize that I was the one who leapt forward.
I remember the fall. I fell backwards. As if my strings had been cut and I fell limp into the puddle, there was no splash as I landed in that puddle.
The feeling I felt in that puddle, it was something I had never felt before or since, an overwhelming pull I was powerless against, I pray to never to feel it again.
Should I describe it? How to describe it? I have to describe it. I can describe the fear it inspired, but not yet, it’s easier to describe fear, but this isn’t meant to be easy, this memory never is. No the actual feeling, that’s harder, It wasn’t a happy emotion, not a powerful emotion, not a sad emotion. Hopelessness? Yes it was hopelessness. Nothing more, nothing less. No hope for the future, no point to anything, I think it is possibly the only time I felt hopelessness. You can’t live without hope.
I couldn’t stand could I? No, I wouldn’t have laid there if I could, to begin with I didn’t want to, didn’t care to, my legs wouldn’t move, arms were like stone, every muscle in my body cramped, I could feel everything. My eyes were open, rain hitting them, rain dripped from my lips to my chin, it tickled. The fingertips were warm, hair moved, stand by stand off my face. Puddle water lapped against my cheek, socks soaking up water, shirt getting tighter and heavier, jacket sleeves filling up with water, keys and wallet resting on my leg. I just lay there staring at nothing, seeing nothing. I think to begin with I was gone; that everything I held myself up to and was trying to achieve, had suddenly left me, except my memories, memories that weren’t real. For the longest time that’s how I was, empty, even down to my emotions there was nothing I laid there empty. I could feel my body, but I couldn’t move it, I wasn’t welcome, I felt awkward, out of place. I’m not sure how long I lay there, dead (I had to be dead because I had no hope), it could have been a minute; it could have been hours, days or years.
The light was wrong. It was dark, only the light seemed to come from a streetlight, the sky was empty, the moon had left me.
Some portion of my mind came back, I started crying, I had failed, failed at even this simple task, I lay for a long time waiting, waiting for something else to come, I should have gotten up, but I just lay there waiting, I was muttering my secret . If that had been my mind for the rest of my days, I would have spent those days in that puddle unmoving; declared brain dead on the spot. The moment raises such disgust in me, I grieved my most important failure, hated my greatest success.
I’d like to lie here, to say anything other than the truth, to save myself the pain and the shame, but I said I would try to tell this memory as it was, not as I wish it, so while I’d like to say I had a vison, a burst of strength, that hope returned to me, I can’t, because in reality it was two words that saved me.
Two words. The Two words that cut through it all. I’m still not sure if I just heard them from somewhere else, said it myself or imagined it afterwards. “Get up” it was angry, disgusted, the words were almost spat out, “Get up”.
Those words have burned themselves into my mind, and affected me every day since. The fear and inspiration it awoke in my mind, throat pricked and butterflies in my stomach, anxiety. Next to the hopelessness it seemed like life had spoken, with a voice that wielded fear.
I took control of my body then……
No dear reader I didn’t…. I am almost finished, I have to be true to the memory, I can’t spare myself now, it’s too late for me to take it back.
I didn’t take control, I wasn’t there yet, it took me such a long time to regain control again, but it gave my eyes back to me for I had seen nothing long before the fall. I watched as fear drove me, took the strings of my life and moved them, dragging my shell in the dust, screaming.
I cursed everyone and everything, hated myself for what had happened, Oh and the fear, fear of the voice, fear of dying, the fear that someone would see me at this moment, see me and misunderstand me, I didn’t want to die,(I don’t want to die now) I was terrified that I had tried to die, terrified I didn’t know where that urge came from, that moment of energy and intention that was actioned without the consent of my mind, that I was powerless against.
Fear drove me, commanded me out of that puddle. I’d gone insane, truly, completely, utterly mad, I was dragging myself to the curb, screaming, crying, laughing, I ripped my finger nails out, shredded my palms and hands into bloody messes my knees into bruised pulp, my head and face cut by being dragged along.
I heaved up that curb fucking curb, shaking. I started to stand and scramble forward, to escape that spot, that puddle on that road. I stood up hunched and bent, buffet by the wind, laughing, crying, waving my hands in all directions spitting, shouting, wiping blood on my jeans, I was staggering side to side shaking, soaked to the bone, I was mad, insane, disgraced and humiliated.
Why say more? I won’t go further, there is so much more but to understand it…. This was not the place for such memories. That moment all those years ago, was not the eureka moment, the next day I turned this into a joke, a story to tell.
To this day, I cannot tell you what really happened that night all those years ago, as I sit here writing and rewriting the words over and over. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I wonder what would happened if I could relive that night again, doing everything again now. This was the time that my bubble began to burst and the real world hit me like a wave. Perhaps it was just a moment of growing pains. I’ve said it before, I’m only a cynic, all I have left is the memory of the 9th of May, a memory I visit daily.
2024.05.18 01:35 Memiiselgey23 The 8 Choir Girls
I had always remembered my deeply rooted envy at a girl at my old high school. Alyssa Howard, Home Room 207. It hadn't been long since I graduated there. I was in Class of '22, in a homeroom that I simply didn't fit in. It was isolating since everyone in my homeroom was in groups of friends, everyone was their own designated groups.
Alyssa was in the Choir group, consisting of 8 girls. They were girls that were a part of Choir Class, an elective that made no sense why I took it. Along with Alyssa Howard, there was Brianne Becker, Fiona Figueroa, Leslie Smith, Hannah Klidford, Emma Kelly, Mandy Lake, and... Karla Reyes. Karla Reyes was one of them I knew very well. In fact she is the reason why I'm typing this out.
Karla was my childhood friend, we met in 5th grade. Her family was from around Texas, and she recently moved to this small town of Meadows Dale. I didn't have friends at that age since most kids thought I was...well weird. I didn't comprehend why I was weird to them at the time, I just simply thought I wasn't cool enough. I remember vividly that I was walking far from the rusty playground, to a hill that pretty much if going more up north, you'll be at the Centennial Park of the town.
That sunny day in 5th grade felt like it was just yesterday. I was walking up a hill, my Elsa shoes making every step feel like a chore. I sighed, looking down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed that my mom had gotten them for me. All the other kids in my grade were wearing Converse or cool sneakers, and here I was, stuck with sparkly, princess-themed shoes. I flopped down on the grassy ground, feeling like the biggest outcast in the world.
I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, I noticed a girl with dark hair and tan skin walking towards me. She looked a bit nervous, fidgeting with her hands as she approached. I recognized her from my homeroom class.
"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "These hills look like a pair of butt cheeks, don't they?" She giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh too.
I signed back to her, using my hands to mimic the shape of hills and then making a silly face to show that, yes, they did look like butt cheeks. Karla laughed, and I was surprised. Not many people in my class knew sign language, and it was nice to have someone to communicate with in my own way.
"Do you know sign language?" I signed, curiosity getting the better of me.
Karla nodded, her dark hair bobbing up and down. "Yeah, my aunt was born deaf, so I learned to communicate with her."
I signed back, asking her if she thought it was cool that I knew sign language too.
Karla grinned. "Yeah, that's really cool! I'm Karla, by the way."
“Lily,” I signed my name, and Karla sat down next to me on the grass. We chatted for the rest of recess, discovering that we had a lot in common. We both loved DreamWorks movies better than Disney, and our favorite music group was Fifth Harmony. I was obsessed with them back then, and Karla was too. We both wanted to be like Camila Cabello when we grew up.
From that day on, Karla and I were inseparable. We'd sit together at lunch, partner up for group projects, and even started a Fifth Harmony fan club in our class. Karla would always lend me an earbud so we could jam out to our favorite songs together. Our friendship was effortless, and I felt like I'd finally found someone who understood me.
It was perfect until the start of Freshman year of Meadows Dale High School. I held my scheduler tightly in my hands as I climbed the stairs to the kitchen, my stomach twisted in knots. My heart sank as I scanned the pages, taking in the fact that most of my classes were designated for students with special educational needs. Homeroom and choir were the only exceptions.
I made my way to the living room where my mom was seated, tears brimming in my eyes. "Mom, why do I have to take these classes?" I signed, frustration etched on my features. "I don't need this kind of help. I can handle regular classes just fine."
My mom looked at the schedule, her expression sympathetic. "I know you don't seem to need help, sweetie, but the school requires you to take these classes. It's just protocol."
I sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. "I'm going to feel like even more of a freak than I already do," I gestured angrily, trying to hold back tears.
From the living room doorway, my father's deep voice cut through the silence. His ears perked up from the conversation. "Hey, kiddo, what's going on?" he asked, his voice gentle.
I signed again, rapidly gesturing my fingers "I don't want to take Special ED classes, Dad. I can do normal classes. I can hear the teachers very well!"
My dad walked over to us, his eyes scanning the schedule. "I know it's tough, Lily, but the school is just trying to help. Plus, You're not a freak. Not in our eyes, anyway. If anybody gives you trouble, I'll personally see to it that they regret it." His tone was lighthearted, but his meaning was clear. He was the sheriff, after all, and his reputation preceded him.
I rolled my eyes, signing, "Dad, please. You're only making things worse."
Ignoring my pleas, he ruffled my hair affectionately before leaving the room. I retreated to my bedroom, collapsing onto my bed in a heap of tears. The night passed in a blur, and soon enough, it was time for me to wake up and face another day.
I woke up to the sound of my dad calling me from downstairs. "Lily, time to get up! First day of school!" I groggily got out of bed, still feeling the emotional hangover from the night before.
My dad drove me to school in his police cruiser, which only added to my embarrassment. I remembered feeling weird being in the cruiser, with its flashing lights and sirens. As we pulled up to the school, my dad turned to me and said, "No matter what, you'll always have me and Mom, okay? We love you, and we're proud of you."
He hugged me tight, and I felt a lump in my throat again. I nodded, trying to hold back tears, and got out of the car. Finally me into the world of Meadows Dale High School.
The enormity of the building hit me hard as I stepped inside. The halls were bustling with activity, and the noise level was overwhelming. The classes flew by, and I couldn't help but feel like my Special ED classes were too easy for me. The teacher aides were sweet, but they were busy helping other students, leaving me to feel like I was just going through the motions.
As I walked out of my Literature class, I noticed a boy sitting alone next to a locker. He had ginger hair and was a bit overweight, and he was using a big headset to listen to music. There was something about him that drew me in, so I walked over to say hi.
He removed his headphones, looking up at me with a nervous smile. "Hi," he said, his voice a little shaky.
I signed back, "Hi."
He laughed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry if I'm a bit awkward. I'm not really used to talking to people."
I signed, "You're not awkward at all."
He smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks. I'm Matt Weston."
I nodded, signing, "I'm Lily."
Matt's eyes lit up. "Sweet. What's your homeroom?"
"207."
Matt's face brightened up. "No way, that's my homeroom too!"
I smiled, feeling a sense of excitement. "That's amazing!"
Matt stood up, walking towards a bookshelf. "Homeroom's next class. Want to walk with me?"
I nodded, following him as the bell rang. We exited the class, and suddenly we were swept up in a sea of students pushing and shoving to get to their next class.
We finally arrived at class 207, which was already filled with students. I saw Alyssa sitting in the back with her group of friends, looking like a star athlete. Matt went to sit in the front seat, and I sat next to him.
Just as we were settling in, one of the guys from Jr high football, Ryan Peterson, hit a football at Matt, saying, "Can't believe we got 'Butterball' in our class."
Matt rolled his eyes, saying, "At least I don't have a father who cheats and spreads gonorrhea."
Ryan's friend, Warren, said, "Ohhh sick burn,"
Ryan huffed, whispering to Matt, "Just because you're special doesn't mean everybody likes you."
I got mad, flipping Ryan the finger, which made him laugh. "You're lucky I ain't telling the teacher, because I don't want any issues with your old man!" Ryan walked away with Warren, leaving me feeling annoyed.
The homeroom teacher arrived, a young guy in his 20s with cedar brown hair and a pair of glasses. "Hello Students! Like that you are all sitting in neatly placed groups. My name's Mr. James and I'll be your homeroom teacher for Freshmen till Senior Year. Hope you excited as I am!"
Just as he was about to start writing on the white board, a beautifully dressed Karla emerged late, looking older and more mature with a lot of makeup on. I looked up, happy to see her, only for her to not notice me and sit down next to Alyssa's group.
Matt whispered to me, "Do you know that girl?"
I signed, "No."
Matt nodded, looking curious. "She looks familiar, but I don't know her name. Was it Kayla or Karly?"
"It's Karla," I shrugged, feeling a pang of disappointment. It seemed like Karla had moved on to a new group of friends, leaving me behind. I don't know how this change happened, since Karla and I went on a trip to Orlando, Florida, three weeks ago. I thought we had the best of our life's during that trip.
I was stumped, watching from afar as Karla chatted with Alyssa and her friends. I felt a twinge of jealousy and sadness as I realized how easily Karla had seemingly moved on and found a new group to hang out with. I mean, I thought we were best friends. It felt like Alyssa had stolen her from me.
I turned my attention elsewhere, not wanting to dwell on it. That's when I noticed a teenage boy sitting alone a few rows in front of me. He had jet black hair and there was something familiar about him, although I couldn't quite place it. I wondered who he was and why he was sitting alone.
"Hey, Lily," Matt said, following my gaze. "Do you know that guy? He looks kind of like a mini Detective Loomis."
I shook my head, signing that I had no idea who he was, but now I was curious too. Detective Loomis had been a family friend for years, and I knew he had a son, but I hadn't seen him in a while.
Matt chuckled nervously and waved his hand as if to dismiss his own question. "Just wondering. He kind of looks like him, that's all."
Just then, the boy turned around in his seat and our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow, clearly having overheard our conversation. "Yeah, that's my dad," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Why?"
Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not expecting such a direct response. "Oh, um, no reason. Just curious, that's all."
The boy, Brandon Loomis, as I now knew him to be, nodded slowly, as if accepting Matt's explanation. Then, to my surprise, he introduced himself with a small smile. "Brandon Loomis. And you are...?"
"Lily Anderson. Nice to meet you, Brandon."
“I'm Matt by the way,” Matt chimed in.
A flash of something—was it pain?—crossed Brandon's face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. "Nice to meet you both. Your dad's a good man, Lily. He helped me out a lot."
I could only imagine what Brandon had been through. I remembered hearing snippets about his kidnapping a while back, but I had no idea what he must have endured. No wonder he hadn't been in school until now.
"Well, I hope the rest of the year goes well for you," I signed sincerely.
Brandon smiled at me again, and I felt a warm glow spread through my chest. "Thanks, Lily. I hope so too."
As the homeroom continued, Mr. James had us all introduce ourselves and played some icebreaker games to help us get to know each other better. It was actually kind of fun, and it took my mind off Karla and her new friends for a while.
One of the things we had to do was share a fun fact about ourselves. When it was Matt's turn, he revealed that he was the son of Mayor Weston and a great friend of my dad's. No wonder he seemed so familiar! I knew my dad would be thrilled to hear that Matt and I had become friends.
Before I knew it, the homeroom was over, and Matt, Brandon, and I headed out into the hallway together. I was relieved to find out that we all had B lunch, so I wouldn't have to eat alone.
"So, where do you guys usually eat?" Brandon asked as we made our way down the crowded hallway.
"I don't know about Lily, but I usually just grab something from the cafeteria and eat outside," Matt replied.
I signed, "That sounds good to me. I like being outdoors."
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, me too. Although, I usually eat my lunch at Dillard's Diner since I work there after school. You guys should come by sometime. The food's pretty great."
"Definitely!" Matt said enthusiastically. "I love diner food. And hey, maybe we can even help you out sometime if you're short-staffed."
Brandon laughed. "Sure, why not? It can get pretty crazy on the weekends, so any extra hands would be appreciated."
As we made our way to the cafeteria, Matt started talking about his favorite band, Deftones. I had to admit, their music was a little too heavy for my tastes, but Matt was so passionate about it that I found myself getting drawn in.
"You know, you should check out their album 'White Pony,'" Matt said. "It's a classic. My dad actually introduced me to them, and I've been hooked ever since."
I signed with a smile, "My dad's always trying to get me into his favorite bands too. He's a big fan of The Beatles and Queen."
"Oh, those are classics," Brandon chimed in. "My dad's more of a country music guy, but I've definitely grown to appreciate some of the older stuff."
While we ate lunch, I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing, something I often did when I was feeling nervous or needed a distraction. Matt and Brandon were curious and asked to see my drawings. I showed them some of my anime-style sketches, and they both complimented my work.
"Wow, Lily, these are amazing!" Matt exclaimed. "You're gonna be like Picasso one day."
I signed, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "Thanks, Matt. That's really nice of you to say."
Brandon nodded in agreement. "Seriously, you're really talented. I wish I could draw like that."
As lunch came to an end, Matt and Brandon suggested that they walk me to my next class. I was surprised but pleased that they wanted to stick together. My next class was Choir, and thankfully, it was just down the hall.
"So, Lily, do you sing?" Brandon asked as we walked.
I signed, feeling a little self-conscious. "A little. I mean, I really want to sing, but I'm not sure I'm any good."
"Don't be shy, Lily," Matt said with a grin. "I bet you have a great voice."
I felt my face flush again, but I was glad that Matt and Brandon seemed so supportive. As we reached the choir room, I took a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever the class might bring. I slowly pushed open the door to the choir room, unsure of what to expect. The room was dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the outlines of rows of chairs facing a small stage. The room had a strange beauty to it, with its blue and white color scheme and intricate design carvings. I made my way to an empty chair near the exit, wanting to keep a low profile.
Before long, a flood of girls began to pour into the room, chattering and laughing. I recognized many of them from the Meadows Dale Advanced Academic Program. My heart sank a little as I spotted Brianne Becker, one of the most popular girls in school, deep in conversation with Meg Peterson. They were giggling about some guy they both apparently liked. Brianne's eyes suddenly landed on me, and her smile faded. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling self-conscious under her gaze.
Alyssa entered the room, and the atmosphere seemed to brighten. Brianne's face lit up, and she rushed over to give Alyssa a hug. "I'm so happy you're in this class!" she exclaimed. Alyssa smiled back, her warm hazel eyes shining. I felt a small sense of relief seeing her friendly face.
Following Alyssa were Mandy, Fiona, Leslie, Hannah, Emma, and Karla. They all seemed to be deep in their own conversations, and I felt even more alone. Karla was telling Fiona about getting her nails done, and Fiona was expressing her dislike for acrylics. I stood up and waved at Karla, trying to get her attention. She had been one of my few friends in middle school, but something had changed between us lately.
Alyssa, however, made her way over to me and offered a genuine greeting. "Hi, Lily! It's so great to see you in this class," she said, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. I felt a small smile tug at my lips. At least there was one person here who didn't seem to mind my presence.
Entering through the red velvety curtains of the stage, a woman with brunette hair, who looked to be in her early 40s, emerged from behind the stage. She had an air of enthusiasm about her as she introduced herself as Mrs. Becker, Brianne's mother. I remembered hearing that they were related, and at the time, I had thought it was sweet that a mother and daughter shared the same class.
Mrs. Becker instructed us all to take our seats and explained that this class was for girls only. She then asked each of us to come up on stage and recite the Do-Mi-Re-Fa-So syllables so that she could group us into sections of eight. My heart sank as I realized I would have to sing in front of everyone.
One by one, Mrs. Becker called each girl up to the stage. Some of the girls had okay voices, while others were truly talented. Then it was Brianne's turn. Her voice was like an angel's, a beautiful soprano that filled the room. Fiona and Emma also impressed me with their deep, rich alto voices. Mandy, Leslie, and Hannah had high-pitched, yet well-controlled voices that blended beautifully.
Alyssa and Karla were the last to go, and they both had perfect voices. Alyssa's voice was like honey, smooth and warm. But it was Karla who really stood out. She sounded like a pop idol, her voice clear and powerful. I found myself getting lost in the music, forgetting my worries for a moment.
Then Mrs. Becker called my name, and my heart sank. I nervously made my way up the stairs to the stage, my hands trembling at my sides. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. As I opened my mouth to sing, an awful, screeching noise escaped. My throat instantly sting, as the aftertaste of metallic overwhelmed my mouth. It was so bad that Mrs. Becker immediately cut me off.
"Why are you in this class, Lily?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
I looked at her sadly and signed, "I don't know. I didn't choose this class."
Mrs. Becker softened a little, seeing my dejected expression. "Well, you better discuss these matters with a counselor about switching, because there are better candidates out there who want a spot in this class," she said bluntly.
I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I made my way back to my seat at the very back of the room. I could feel the eyes of the other girls on me, and I heard their stifled laughter. Karla's laughter rang out the loudest, stabbing me like a knife. Alyssa was the only one who didn't join in, her face a mask of disappointment. I wasn't sure if she was disappointed in me or in the other girls' behavior.
It was next week, I got out of my algebra class heading towards the office. I had to wait till Monday, since during the first few days, my assigned counselor was not available. I was already antsy of finally getting out of that Choir class, I couldn’t deal another day with a class I clearly didn’t fit in. My schedule in my hand, I pulled the door open, being greeted by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip muffins. Nervousness ran through me, wondering what type of counselor Dr. Wells would be.
The door was wide agape, leading me into the source of that muffin smell. Sitting there on a working desk, was a man typing on his laptop. He looked a bit exhausted, almost to the point that he slumped on his chair. Tilting my head, I nudged on his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. I couldn’t help but feel warmth radiating in my cheeks.
“Huh? Oh, hello there Lily. What brings you here?” Dr. Wells jolted up, probably noticing how close I was to his face. I backed away, sitting down on a red couch next to him.
“I want to change classes please.”
Mr. Wells nodded off, scooting his chair back towards his mahogany desk. He searched up my schedule, turning his laptop to my view. “Oh, I see. In what class do you want to change?”
I nervously let out a breath, as I finally let out what emotions I was holding. “I don’t know why you assigned me Choir, but everyone in that class hates me. I really need that class changed, Dr. Wells.”
I saw my counselor's lip repeatedly twitched a bit, before he gathered his composure. Dr. Wells looked up from his desk, his kind face softening as he saw me. "Lily, I want to apologize profusely for putting you in that situation."
I signed, feeling a little comforted by his words. "It's okay. I did want to be in that class, but I just... I felt so out of place with all the other girls laughing at me."
Dr. Wells sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm truly sorry, Lily. I was told you loved music and thought you would enjoy the class. But it's clear that it wasn't a good fit. Do you have another class in mind that you'd like to take instead?"
I nodded and signed, "Art class. I heard my friend Brandon is taking that, and I've always loved drawing."
Dr. Wells typed something into his laptop. “Consider it done. I'll have the change processed by tomorrow, if not sooner. In the meantime, help yourself to a muffin. The library teacher made them for me, and they're delicious."
I smiled and took one of the muffins, taking a bite. "Are you and the library teacher... a thing?" I asked, feeling a little bold.
Dr. Wells laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. "No, no, nothing like that. Just colleagues. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so she often shares her baking creations with me."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It was probably one of the few times I'd developed a crush on someone, and as usual, it was harmless and something I'd get over quickly. Dr. Wells was one of those crushes indeed. I stood up from my chair, feeling much better than when I arrived. "Well, thank you, Dr. Wells. I better head to class soon."
Dr. Wells smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Of course, Lily. And remember, if you ever need someone to chat with, my door is always open."
Later that day, during lunch, I made my way to our usual table with Brandon and Matt. They were already deep in conversation about their morning classes.
"PE is a nightmare," Matt was saying. "All the athletes make fun of me because I'm not as fast or strong as they are. It's frustrating."
Brandon nodded sympathetically. "I heard you beat Ryan on the pacer test, though. That's impressive."
Matt shrugged, taking a bite of his apple. "It was just luck, honestly. Ryan got too cocky and sprained his knee on the seventy-ninth lap. I just kept a steady pace.”
I signed to Matt, "You should still be proud. I bet your dad was happy."
Matt smiled. "He was. It's not every day I get to impress him, especially when it comes to sports. You know how Mayor Weston was a star athlete back in his day."
I laughed, and then took a bite of my sandwich. "Speaking of impressing people, I have some news. I'm switching out of choir class and into art elective. Hopefully, I'll be in the same class as you, Brandon."
Brandon's face lit up. "That's great! I'm so glad you'll be joining us. Art class is a lot of fun.”
Matt nodded in agreement. "I'm happy for you, Lily. But why are you leaving Choir? I thought you loved singing."
My smile faltered, and I looked down at my lap. "It's just... it's not the right fit for me," I signed.
Matt frowned, chewing on his apple. "Is Mrs. Becker too mean? I've heard she can be hard on students who aren't part of the popular crowd."
"No fair," I signed, my eyes pleading with him to understand.
Brandon nodded. "It really isn't fair, Matt. That's why I prefer to keep a low profile. Popularity contests aren't worth the hassle.”
Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Karla standing there, a sad look on her face. "Lily, can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
I hesitated, signing, "Why?”
With a strand of hair tucked behind her ear, she leaned in and whispered, "I want to talk to you in private."
I glanced at Matt and Brandon, signing, "I'll be back, okay?"
Matt nodded, his eyes curious. "We'll be here. Take your time."
I followed Karla to the girl's bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn't sure what this was about, but I sensed it was important to her. Once we were inside, Karla pulled out a juul vape from her pocket and took a hit. The sweet smell of watermelon filled the air.
"Want a hit?" she offered, holding it out to me.
I was curious, so I signed, "Sure."
I took a cautious drag, expecting to choke, but surprisingly, I didn't. Karla laughed, "I guess you already know how to smoke. Not so innocent after all, huh?"
I rolled my eyes. "I learned from watching Effy in Skins. It's not like I've never seen it before."
Karla laughed again, a genuine sound that seemed to break through the tension between us. "Look, Lily, I wanted to apologize for what happened in the choir. I shouldn't have laughed. It was mean, and I'm sorry."
I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. A part of me wanted to accept her apology, but another part was still hurt by her earlier behavior. Before I could say anything, Karla cut in, "I know it doesn't make up for it, but I want to make it up to you. How about I take you to the skating rink this evening? It's one of our favorite places, remember?"
I hesitated, considering her offer. Finally, I signed, "Okay, I guess."
Karla's face lit up, and she gave me a quick hug. "Great! I'll text you the details. See you later, okay?" And with that, she left the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I walked back to the cafeteria, my mind racing. Matt rushed over to me, his eyes full of questions. "How did it go? What did she want?" he asked.
"It went okay," I replied, signing as I continued. "Karla invited me to the skating rink this evening."
Brandon's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, Lily. Karla hangs out with those choir girls. I don't think we can trust her, especially after what happened."
I bit my lip, understanding his concern. "What if I sneak you and Matt in too? That way, if anything goes south, we'll be together."
Matt's eyes lit up. "That's a brilliant idea! I'm in."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "It's settled, then. We're going skating."
That afternoon, I waited on the porch for Karla to pick me up. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over everything. My dad emerged from the house, dressed in his sheriff's uniform. "Why are you wearing your uniform on your day off?" I asked, curious.
He chuckled, patting my back. "Got called into work. Something strange is going on. Don't worry, I'll be fine."
I signed, "Be safe, Dad."
“I will, honey. Have fun with Karla, okay.” He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up before heading off. A minute later, a black Chevy pulled up, and I recognized it as Mrs. Becker's car. Karla leaned out the window and waved me over.
I took a deep breath and climbed into the back seat. Besides Karla, there were a few other girls from the choir class—Mandy, Hannah, Emma, Leslie, Fiona, and Brianne. Alyssa was noticeably absent.
Noticing my curious glance, Karla explained, "Alyssa had track practice. She couldn't make it."
I signed, "That's nice."
Brianne turned to Mrs. Becker and asked, "Can we get some McDonald's shakes? Please?"
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Of course, sweetie. Does anyone else want one?"
Everyone nodded eagerly, and Mrs. Becker placed an order for nine shakes. Emma and Leslie wanted vanilla, Brianne wanted the seasonal spice pumpkin flavor, Hannah and Fiona requested strawberry, Karla and Mandy chose chocolate, and Mrs. Becker asked about my preference.
"Mint, please," I said, making a gesture of a mint leaf.
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Mint it is. Anything for my girls."
I felt a warm glow spread through me. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to like me. I took a long sip of my mint shake, savoring the cool, refreshing taste.
"Chocolate is definitely the best flavor," Mandy declared, taking a sip from her own shake. "Nothing beats the classic."
"Pumpkin spice is where it's at," Brianne interjected, taking a sip of her pumpkin spice shake. "It's got that perfect blend of sweet and spicy. It's like autumn in a bite."
"Are you kidding?" Mandy scoffed. "Chocolate is timeless. It's the ultimate comfort food. Pumpkin spice is just a fad.”
"Oh c'mon! Pumpkin spice is leagues better," Brianne retorted. "It's a limited edition for a reason."
The other girls joined in, each defending their favorite flavor. I snickered at their playful bickering, feeling a sense of warmth despite the earlier tension.
About ten minutes later, Mrs. Becker pulled into the parking lot of a magenta-colored building. The girls piled out of the car, and I followed them inside, curious about our destination. Mrs. Becker turned to Brianne and said, "I'll pick you girls up at 8 pm sharp. I need to head home and take care of your little sister."
Brianne gave her mom a quick hug and yelled out, "Okay! Love you, mom!" Then she joined the choir group, whispering something in Karla's ear that made her smile in an unsettling way.
Karla walked over to me and whispered, "Hey, Lily, I want to take you to our hiding spot. It's been a while since we hung out there."
I brightened at the idea, signing, "I've missed that place. We used to act like it was our studio booth."
“Uh-huh,” Karla led me to an abandoned janitor's closet that was blocked off with a "Do Not Enter" sign. She opened the door, and I slid inside, feeling a rush of nostalgia. I slid inside the small, dimly lit closet and sat criss-cross on the floor, my heart racing with anticipation. Karla joined me, and for a moment, we just sat there, our knees touching, the silence comfortable between us.
"I've missed you, Lily," Karla signed, her expression softening.
"I've missed you too," I signed back, my heart warming at the sentiment. "It feels like it's been ages since we really talked." I looked down, my smile fading slightly. "I've missed the old Karla. The one who was always on my side, no matter what."
Karla furrowed her eyebrows, her face a mask of confusion. "What do you mean? I haven't changed, Lily. I've just matured."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "Matured? Making fun of someone less popular than you isn't mature, Karla. It's just mean spirited."
Her eyes widened at my words, and I could see the hurt flash across her face. "I haven't been making fun of you, Lily. I—"
"Yes, you have," I interrupted, my anger bubbling to the surface. "I know exactly what you and your new friends have been trying to do. You've been pretending I don't exist, like I'm not even worth acknowledging.”
Karla's face contorted with frustration. "That's not true, Lily! You always have to make everything about your disability. If anyone's changed, it's you. You used to be so happy, always laughing and joking around. Now, you just cry and complain when things don't go your way."
I signed angrily, my hands moving frantically. "How can you say that, Karla? I don't mind if you want to be more popular, but you're acting like you don't even know me. You're trying to pretend we're not friends."
Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice shook. "Maybe I don't want to be friends with you anymore, Lily. Maybe you're too held up in the past, too stuck in your own little world. You're a sad, pathetic sap, and I—"
Before she could finish her sentence, I punched her squarely in the face. The force of the blow knocked her back, and she stumbled, her hand flying to her nose.
"I wish I'd never met you, Karla!" I angrily figured my fingers around, my breathing being audible in the small space. "I wish you'd never been my friend! I wouldn't care if you dropped dead right now!"
Karla's eyes widened in shock, and tears began to stream down her face. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the janitor's closet, leaving me alone in the dimly lit space. I trembled as I crouched down in the corner, my heart pounding in my chest. I had never hit anyone before, and now I wished I could take it back. It was rather immature of me to end that way with Karla. Especially when this was the last memory I had of her alive.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, freezing me in place. It was Karla. My eyes widened in horror as I realized what I had done. I rose to my feet and ran out of the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. As I turned the corner, I came face to face with a masked man. He was tall and imposing, his mask was painted like a 1940s woman with green eyeshadow, vibrant red blush, and blood-red lips. His copper-blonde wig fell in sleek waves, contrasting with his all-black suit.
The man walked slowly towards me, his gloved hand reaching out. I kicked him in the abdomen, my fear fueling my strength. But he was too strong. He grabbed me by the waist, his gloved finger pressing against my lips.
"My little flower, I am so happy to see you." he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly.
Before I could scream or struggle, he covered my mouth with a rag. It took a while for the chloroform to finally take effect, as I remembered my last thoughts were about Karla. Sometimes I wished this encounter was just an elaborate prank played by Brianne. However it is never the case.
When I woke up, I woke up to the sound of a girl's voice, soft and melodic. My eyes felt heavy, my body sluggish as I tried to lift my head. The singing was familiar, reminding me of Karla. My heart stirred at the memory of my friend, and I tried to shake off the grogginess that clouded my mind.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I was restrained to a bed, my wrists and ankles bound. Panic surged through me, and I struggled against my bonds, my heart racing.
The singing continued, and I finally located the source—a television mounted on the wall across the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the singer. It was Karla, her face bruised and beaten, her eyes closed as she sang "Once Upon a December" from the animated movie "Anastasia." Her voice was shaky but serene, and tears pricked my eyes as I watched her performance.
I opened my mouth to scream, but only a weakened screech escaped my throat. I tugged at my restraints, desperation fueling my strength. I had to get out of here. I had to help Karla.
Catching me off guard, the door swung open, and the masked man from my encounter at the janitor's closet stepped into the room. My heart sank at the sight of him, and I shrunk back against the bed, my breath coming in short gasps.
He carried a plate of applesauce, his gloved hands setting it down on a table by the bed. "Good morning, my little flower," he said, his voice deep and distorted by the mask. "Your friend has a lovely voice," he remarked. "Have you ever wanted to sing like that?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving his face. I mouthed the words, "Let her go.”
The Masked Man smiled sadly. "Your friend has been let go. Don't worry, she's no longer suffering.”
I wanted to scream, to demand that he release me, but my voice failed me. The masked man approached the bed, his eyes cold and unfeeling. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the applesauce, then brought it to my mouth.
"Open up, sweetie," he cooed. "You need to keep up your strength."
I turned my head away, my body rigid with fear. I didn't want his help, I didn't want anything to do with him.
"Now, now, none of that," he chided, his gloved hand gently tilting my chin back towards him. "You need to eat. And one day, my little flower, you will sing too. And it will be the most beautiful voice anyone has ever heard."
Tears slipped down my cheeks as he forced the spoon into my mouth, the applesauce tasting bitter on my tongue. I choked down the food, my throat constricting with fear and anger.
The masked man set the plate down and pulled me into a tight embrace, his gloved hands stroking my hair. "Shh, my little flower. Everything will be alright. I'm here to take care of you."
I sobbed into his chest, my body shaking with grief and terror. I had no idea where I was, no concept of how much time had passed since I had been taken. All I knew was that Karla was in danger, and I was powerless to help her. The masked man held me until my sobs subsided, then gently laid me back down on the bed. "Rest now. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I closed my eyes, my mind reeling. The next time I woke, it was to the sound of my mother's sobs. I blinked groggily, my vision blurry as I tried to focus. I was in a hospital room, my mother sitting by my bedside, her face wet with tears. Matt and Brandon, my closest friends, were also there, their faces etched with concern.
"Mom?" I raised one of my hands, my fingers weak and stiff.
My mother's head snapped up, and she rushed to my side, her hands grasping mine. "Lily, oh, Lily, you're awake!" She smiled through her tears, her voice shaking. "I thought I'd lost you.”
I placed my palm to touch her cheek, my throat too dry to speak. Matt and Brandon stood by silently, their eyes filled with relief.
I then asked the big question, signing, "What... happened?"
Matt nervously stuttered, "We... We found you inside an old shed near the skating rink. You were... you were unconscious, and we called for help right away."
Brandon added, "Before that, you were missing for roughly 33 hours. We searched everywhere for you.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, unable to meet my gaze.
"You're safe now, Lily," my mother said, stroking my hair. "That's all that matters. There's nothing to worry about anymore."
I shook my head, my eyes flying open. Where was Karla? I signed, "Where's Karla?”
My mother's face crumpled, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "She's... she's still missing, Lily. We don't know where she is."
I closed my eyes, the weight of my guilt crushing me. If I hadn't fought with Karla, none of this would have happened. It was my fault she was still out there, alone and in danger.
The days turned into weeks, and Karla remained missing. The police conducted an extensive search, but there were no leads, no clues as to her whereabouts. I blamed myself, replaying the events of that fateful day over and over in my mind.
Three weeks after my rescue, the news channel delivered a devastating blow. Karla Reyes, aged 15, had been found dead, her body buried near the Yellow Rock River. She had suffered multiple bone fractures, and the unsettling detail—she had been missing her vocal cords and larynx.
I recalled the day vividly, the sun shining brightly through my hospital window as the news anchor delivered the grim update. I had broken down, sobbing uncontrollably, the reality of what had happened hitting me like a ton of bricks. I remember wanting to just die, to pay for what I have done. If I hadn't had my friends Matt and Brandon, I wouldn't have been alive writing this. And yet, I never told anyone about The Masked Man or what had transpired that day—until now. Sometimes I wonder if Karla could hear my prayers, wishing that she deserved better than this, and I'm sorry for causing her death. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I needed to say next.
Karla Reyes may have been the first victim, but she certainly wasn't the last. There were 7 more Choirs Girls left.
submitted by Memiiselgey23 to NoSleepAuthors [link] [comments]
Alyssa was in the Choir group, consisting of 8 girls. They were girls that were a part of Choir Class, an elective that made no sense why I took it. Along with Alyssa Howard, there was Brianne Becker, Fiona Figueroa, Leslie Smith, Hannah Klidford, Emma Kelly, Mandy Lake, and... Karla Reyes. Karla Reyes was one of them I knew very well. In fact she is the reason why I'm typing this out.
Karla was my childhood friend, we met in 5th grade. Her family was from around Texas, and she recently moved to this small town of Meadows Dale. I didn't have friends at that age since most kids thought I was...well weird. I didn't comprehend why I was weird to them at the time, I just simply thought I wasn't cool enough. I remember vividly that I was walking far from the rusty playground, to a hill that pretty much if going more up north, you'll be at the Centennial Park of the town.
That sunny day in 5th grade felt like it was just yesterday. I was walking up a hill, my Elsa shoes making every step feel like a chore. I sighed, looking down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed that my mom had gotten them for me. All the other kids in my grade were wearing Converse or cool sneakers, and here I was, stuck with sparkly, princess-themed shoes. I flopped down on the grassy ground, feeling like the biggest outcast in the world.
I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, I noticed a girl with dark hair and tan skin walking towards me. She looked a bit nervous, fidgeting with her hands as she approached. I recognized her from my homeroom class.
"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "These hills look like a pair of butt cheeks, don't they?" She giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh too.
I signed back to her, using my hands to mimic the shape of hills and then making a silly face to show that, yes, they did look like butt cheeks. Karla laughed, and I was surprised. Not many people in my class knew sign language, and it was nice to have someone to communicate with in my own way.
"Do you know sign language?" I signed, curiosity getting the better of me.
Karla nodded, her dark hair bobbing up and down. "Yeah, my aunt was born deaf, so I learned to communicate with her."
I signed back, asking her if she thought it was cool that I knew sign language too.
Karla grinned. "Yeah, that's really cool! I'm Karla, by the way."
“Lily,” I signed my name, and Karla sat down next to me on the grass. We chatted for the rest of recess, discovering that we had a lot in common. We both loved DreamWorks movies better than Disney, and our favorite music group was Fifth Harmony. I was obsessed with them back then, and Karla was too. We both wanted to be like Camila Cabello when we grew up.
From that day on, Karla and I were inseparable. We'd sit together at lunch, partner up for group projects, and even started a Fifth Harmony fan club in our class. Karla would always lend me an earbud so we could jam out to our favorite songs together. Our friendship was effortless, and I felt like I'd finally found someone who understood me.
It was perfect until the start of Freshman year of Meadows Dale High School. I held my scheduler tightly in my hands as I climbed the stairs to the kitchen, my stomach twisted in knots. My heart sank as I scanned the pages, taking in the fact that most of my classes were designated for students with special educational needs. Homeroom and choir were the only exceptions.
I made my way to the living room where my mom was seated, tears brimming in my eyes. "Mom, why do I have to take these classes?" I signed, frustration etched on my features. "I don't need this kind of help. I can handle regular classes just fine."
My mom looked at the schedule, her expression sympathetic. "I know you don't seem to need help, sweetie, but the school requires you to take these classes. It's just protocol."
I sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. "I'm going to feel like even more of a freak than I already do," I gestured angrily, trying to hold back tears.
From the living room doorway, my father's deep voice cut through the silence. His ears perked up from the conversation. "Hey, kiddo, what's going on?" he asked, his voice gentle.
I signed again, rapidly gesturing my fingers "I don't want to take Special ED classes, Dad. I can do normal classes. I can hear the teachers very well!"
My dad walked over to us, his eyes scanning the schedule. "I know it's tough, Lily, but the school is just trying to help. Plus, You're not a freak. Not in our eyes, anyway. If anybody gives you trouble, I'll personally see to it that they regret it." His tone was lighthearted, but his meaning was clear. He was the sheriff, after all, and his reputation preceded him.
I rolled my eyes, signing, "Dad, please. You're only making things worse."
Ignoring my pleas, he ruffled my hair affectionately before leaving the room. I retreated to my bedroom, collapsing onto my bed in a heap of tears. The night passed in a blur, and soon enough, it was time for me to wake up and face another day.
I woke up to the sound of my dad calling me from downstairs. "Lily, time to get up! First day of school!" I groggily got out of bed, still feeling the emotional hangover from the night before.
My dad drove me to school in his police cruiser, which only added to my embarrassment. I remembered feeling weird being in the cruiser, with its flashing lights and sirens. As we pulled up to the school, my dad turned to me and said, "No matter what, you'll always have me and Mom, okay? We love you, and we're proud of you."
He hugged me tight, and I felt a lump in my throat again. I nodded, trying to hold back tears, and got out of the car. Finally me into the world of Meadows Dale High School.
The enormity of the building hit me hard as I stepped inside. The halls were bustling with activity, and the noise level was overwhelming. The classes flew by, and I couldn't help but feel like my Special ED classes were too easy for me. The teacher aides were sweet, but they were busy helping other students, leaving me to feel like I was just going through the motions.
As I walked out of my Literature class, I noticed a boy sitting alone next to a locker. He had ginger hair and was a bit overweight, and he was using a big headset to listen to music. There was something about him that drew me in, so I walked over to say hi.
He removed his headphones, looking up at me with a nervous smile. "Hi," he said, his voice a little shaky.
I signed back, "Hi."
He laughed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry if I'm a bit awkward. I'm not really used to talking to people."
I signed, "You're not awkward at all."
He smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks. I'm Matt Weston."
I nodded, signing, "I'm Lily."
Matt's eyes lit up. "Sweet. What's your homeroom?"
"207."
Matt's face brightened up. "No way, that's my homeroom too!"
I smiled, feeling a sense of excitement. "That's amazing!"
Matt stood up, walking towards a bookshelf. "Homeroom's next class. Want to walk with me?"
I nodded, following him as the bell rang. We exited the class, and suddenly we were swept up in a sea of students pushing and shoving to get to their next class.
We finally arrived at class 207, which was already filled with students. I saw Alyssa sitting in the back with her group of friends, looking like a star athlete. Matt went to sit in the front seat, and I sat next to him.
Just as we were settling in, one of the guys from Jr high football, Ryan Peterson, hit a football at Matt, saying, "Can't believe we got 'Butterball' in our class."
Matt rolled his eyes, saying, "At least I don't have a father who cheats and spreads gonorrhea."
Ryan's friend, Warren, said, "Ohhh sick burn,"
Ryan huffed, whispering to Matt, "Just because you're special doesn't mean everybody likes you."
I got mad, flipping Ryan the finger, which made him laugh. "You're lucky I ain't telling the teacher, because I don't want any issues with your old man!" Ryan walked away with Warren, leaving me feeling annoyed.
The homeroom teacher arrived, a young guy in his 20s with cedar brown hair and a pair of glasses. "Hello Students! Like that you are all sitting in neatly placed groups. My name's Mr. James and I'll be your homeroom teacher for Freshmen till Senior Year. Hope you excited as I am!"
Just as he was about to start writing on the white board, a beautifully dressed Karla emerged late, looking older and more mature with a lot of makeup on. I looked up, happy to see her, only for her to not notice me and sit down next to Alyssa's group.
Matt whispered to me, "Do you know that girl?"
I signed, "No."
Matt nodded, looking curious. "She looks familiar, but I don't know her name. Was it Kayla or Karly?"
"It's Karla," I shrugged, feeling a pang of disappointment. It seemed like Karla had moved on to a new group of friends, leaving me behind. I don't know how this change happened, since Karla and I went on a trip to Orlando, Florida, three weeks ago. I thought we had the best of our life's during that trip.
I was stumped, watching from afar as Karla chatted with Alyssa and her friends. I felt a twinge of jealousy and sadness as I realized how easily Karla had seemingly moved on and found a new group to hang out with. I mean, I thought we were best friends. It felt like Alyssa had stolen her from me.
I turned my attention elsewhere, not wanting to dwell on it. That's when I noticed a teenage boy sitting alone a few rows in front of me. He had jet black hair and there was something familiar about him, although I couldn't quite place it. I wondered who he was and why he was sitting alone.
"Hey, Lily," Matt said, following my gaze. "Do you know that guy? He looks kind of like a mini Detective Loomis."
I shook my head, signing that I had no idea who he was, but now I was curious too. Detective Loomis had been a family friend for years, and I knew he had a son, but I hadn't seen him in a while.
Matt chuckled nervously and waved his hand as if to dismiss his own question. "Just wondering. He kind of looks like him, that's all."
Just then, the boy turned around in his seat and our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow, clearly having overheard our conversation. "Yeah, that's my dad," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Why?"
Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not expecting such a direct response. "Oh, um, no reason. Just curious, that's all."
The boy, Brandon Loomis, as I now knew him to be, nodded slowly, as if accepting Matt's explanation. Then, to my surprise, he introduced himself with a small smile. "Brandon Loomis. And you are...?"
"Lily Anderson. Nice to meet you, Brandon."
“I'm Matt by the way,” Matt chimed in.
A flash of something—was it pain?—crossed Brandon's face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. "Nice to meet you both. Your dad's a good man, Lily. He helped me out a lot."
I could only imagine what Brandon had been through. I remembered hearing snippets about his kidnapping a while back, but I had no idea what he must have endured. No wonder he hadn't been in school until now.
"Well, I hope the rest of the year goes well for you," I signed sincerely.
Brandon smiled at me again, and I felt a warm glow spread through my chest. "Thanks, Lily. I hope so too."
As the homeroom continued, Mr. James had us all introduce ourselves and played some icebreaker games to help us get to know each other better. It was actually kind of fun, and it took my mind off Karla and her new friends for a while.
One of the things we had to do was share a fun fact about ourselves. When it was Matt's turn, he revealed that he was the son of Mayor Weston and a great friend of my dad's. No wonder he seemed so familiar! I knew my dad would be thrilled to hear that Matt and I had become friends.
Before I knew it, the homeroom was over, and Matt, Brandon, and I headed out into the hallway together. I was relieved to find out that we all had B lunch, so I wouldn't have to eat alone.
"So, where do you guys usually eat?" Brandon asked as we made our way down the crowded hallway.
"I don't know about Lily, but I usually just grab something from the cafeteria and eat outside," Matt replied.
I signed, "That sounds good to me. I like being outdoors."
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, me too. Although, I usually eat my lunch at Dillard's Diner since I work there after school. You guys should come by sometime. The food's pretty great."
"Definitely!" Matt said enthusiastically. "I love diner food. And hey, maybe we can even help you out sometime if you're short-staffed."
Brandon laughed. "Sure, why not? It can get pretty crazy on the weekends, so any extra hands would be appreciated."
As we made our way to the cafeteria, Matt started talking about his favorite band, Deftones. I had to admit, their music was a little too heavy for my tastes, but Matt was so passionate about it that I found myself getting drawn in.
"You know, you should check out their album 'White Pony,'" Matt said. "It's a classic. My dad actually introduced me to them, and I've been hooked ever since."
I signed with a smile, "My dad's always trying to get me into his favorite bands too. He's a big fan of The Beatles and Queen."
"Oh, those are classics," Brandon chimed in. "My dad's more of a country music guy, but I've definitely grown to appreciate some of the older stuff."
While we ate lunch, I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing, something I often did when I was feeling nervous or needed a distraction. Matt and Brandon were curious and asked to see my drawings. I showed them some of my anime-style sketches, and they both complimented my work.
"Wow, Lily, these are amazing!" Matt exclaimed. "You're gonna be like Picasso one day."
I signed, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "Thanks, Matt. That's really nice of you to say."
Brandon nodded in agreement. "Seriously, you're really talented. I wish I could draw like that."
As lunch came to an end, Matt and Brandon suggested that they walk me to my next class. I was surprised but pleased that they wanted to stick together. My next class was Choir, and thankfully, it was just down the hall.
"So, Lily, do you sing?" Brandon asked as we walked.
I signed, feeling a little self-conscious. "A little. I mean, I really want to sing, but I'm not sure I'm any good."
"Don't be shy, Lily," Matt said with a grin. "I bet you have a great voice."
I felt my face flush again, but I was glad that Matt and Brandon seemed so supportive. As we reached the choir room, I took a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever the class might bring. I slowly pushed open the door to the choir room, unsure of what to expect. The room was dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the outlines of rows of chairs facing a small stage. The room had a strange beauty to it, with its blue and white color scheme and intricate design carvings. I made my way to an empty chair near the exit, wanting to keep a low profile.
Before long, a flood of girls began to pour into the room, chattering and laughing. I recognized many of them from the Meadows Dale Advanced Academic Program. My heart sank a little as I spotted Brianne Becker, one of the most popular girls in school, deep in conversation with Meg Peterson. They were giggling about some guy they both apparently liked. Brianne's eyes suddenly landed on me, and her smile faded. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling self-conscious under her gaze.
Alyssa entered the room, and the atmosphere seemed to brighten. Brianne's face lit up, and she rushed over to give Alyssa a hug. "I'm so happy you're in this class!" she exclaimed. Alyssa smiled back, her warm hazel eyes shining. I felt a small sense of relief seeing her friendly face.
Following Alyssa were Mandy, Fiona, Leslie, Hannah, Emma, and Karla. They all seemed to be deep in their own conversations, and I felt even more alone. Karla was telling Fiona about getting her nails done, and Fiona was expressing her dislike for acrylics. I stood up and waved at Karla, trying to get her attention. She had been one of my few friends in middle school, but something had changed between us lately.
Alyssa, however, made her way over to me and offered a genuine greeting. "Hi, Lily! It's so great to see you in this class," she said, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. I felt a small smile tug at my lips. At least there was one person here who didn't seem to mind my presence.
Entering through the red velvety curtains of the stage, a woman with brunette hair, who looked to be in her early 40s, emerged from behind the stage. She had an air of enthusiasm about her as she introduced herself as Mrs. Becker, Brianne's mother. I remembered hearing that they were related, and at the time, I had thought it was sweet that a mother and daughter shared the same class.
Mrs. Becker instructed us all to take our seats and explained that this class was for girls only. She then asked each of us to come up on stage and recite the Do-Mi-Re-Fa-So syllables so that she could group us into sections of eight. My heart sank as I realized I would have to sing in front of everyone.
One by one, Mrs. Becker called each girl up to the stage. Some of the girls had okay voices, while others were truly talented. Then it was Brianne's turn. Her voice was like an angel's, a beautiful soprano that filled the room. Fiona and Emma also impressed me with their deep, rich alto voices. Mandy, Leslie, and Hannah had high-pitched, yet well-controlled voices that blended beautifully.
Alyssa and Karla were the last to go, and they both had perfect voices. Alyssa's voice was like honey, smooth and warm. But it was Karla who really stood out. She sounded like a pop idol, her voice clear and powerful. I found myself getting lost in the music, forgetting my worries for a moment.
Then Mrs. Becker called my name, and my heart sank. I nervously made my way up the stairs to the stage, my hands trembling at my sides. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. As I opened my mouth to sing, an awful, screeching noise escaped. My throat instantly sting, as the aftertaste of metallic overwhelmed my mouth. It was so bad that Mrs. Becker immediately cut me off.
"Why are you in this class, Lily?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
I looked at her sadly and signed, "I don't know. I didn't choose this class."
Mrs. Becker softened a little, seeing my dejected expression. "Well, you better discuss these matters with a counselor about switching, because there are better candidates out there who want a spot in this class," she said bluntly.
I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I made my way back to my seat at the very back of the room. I could feel the eyes of the other girls on me, and I heard their stifled laughter. Karla's laughter rang out the loudest, stabbing me like a knife. Alyssa was the only one who didn't join in, her face a mask of disappointment. I wasn't sure if she was disappointed in me or in the other girls' behavior.
It was next week, I got out of my algebra class heading towards the office. I had to wait till Monday, since during the first few days, my assigned counselor was not available. I was already antsy of finally getting out of that Choir class, I couldn’t deal another day with a class I clearly didn’t fit in. My schedule in my hand, I pulled the door open, being greeted by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip muffins. Nervousness ran through me, wondering what type of counselor Dr. Wells would be.
The door was wide agape, leading me into the source of that muffin smell. Sitting there on a working desk, was a man typing on his laptop. He looked a bit exhausted, almost to the point that he slumped on his chair. Tilting my head, I nudged on his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. I couldn’t help but feel warmth radiating in my cheeks.
“Huh? Oh, hello there Lily. What brings you here?” Dr. Wells jolted up, probably noticing how close I was to his face. I backed away, sitting down on a red couch next to him.
“I want to change classes please.”
Mr. Wells nodded off, scooting his chair back towards his mahogany desk. He searched up my schedule, turning his laptop to my view. “Oh, I see. In what class do you want to change?”
I nervously let out a breath, as I finally let out what emotions I was holding. “I don’t know why you assigned me Choir, but everyone in that class hates me. I really need that class changed, Dr. Wells.”
I saw my counselor's lip repeatedly twitched a bit, before he gathered his composure. Dr. Wells looked up from his desk, his kind face softening as he saw me. "Lily, I want to apologize profusely for putting you in that situation."
I signed, feeling a little comforted by his words. "It's okay. I did want to be in that class, but I just... I felt so out of place with all the other girls laughing at me."
Dr. Wells sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm truly sorry, Lily. I was told you loved music and thought you would enjoy the class. But it's clear that it wasn't a good fit. Do you have another class in mind that you'd like to take instead?"
I nodded and signed, "Art class. I heard my friend Brandon is taking that, and I've always loved drawing."
Dr. Wells typed something into his laptop. “Consider it done. I'll have the change processed by tomorrow, if not sooner. In the meantime, help yourself to a muffin. The library teacher made them for me, and they're delicious."
I smiled and took one of the muffins, taking a bite. "Are you and the library teacher... a thing?" I asked, feeling a little bold.
Dr. Wells laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. "No, no, nothing like that. Just colleagues. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so she often shares her baking creations with me."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It was probably one of the few times I'd developed a crush on someone, and as usual, it was harmless and something I'd get over quickly. Dr. Wells was one of those crushes indeed. I stood up from my chair, feeling much better than when I arrived. "Well, thank you, Dr. Wells. I better head to class soon."
Dr. Wells smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Of course, Lily. And remember, if you ever need someone to chat with, my door is always open."
Later that day, during lunch, I made my way to our usual table with Brandon and Matt. They were already deep in conversation about their morning classes.
"PE is a nightmare," Matt was saying. "All the athletes make fun of me because I'm not as fast or strong as they are. It's frustrating."
Brandon nodded sympathetically. "I heard you beat Ryan on the pacer test, though. That's impressive."
Matt shrugged, taking a bite of his apple. "It was just luck, honestly. Ryan got too cocky and sprained his knee on the seventy-ninth lap. I just kept a steady pace.”
I signed to Matt, "You should still be proud. I bet your dad was happy."
Matt smiled. "He was. It's not every day I get to impress him, especially when it comes to sports. You know how Mayor Weston was a star athlete back in his day."
I laughed, and then took a bite of my sandwich. "Speaking of impressing people, I have some news. I'm switching out of choir class and into art elective. Hopefully, I'll be in the same class as you, Brandon."
Brandon's face lit up. "That's great! I'm so glad you'll be joining us. Art class is a lot of fun.”
Matt nodded in agreement. "I'm happy for you, Lily. But why are you leaving Choir? I thought you loved singing."
My smile faltered, and I looked down at my lap. "It's just... it's not the right fit for me," I signed.
Matt frowned, chewing on his apple. "Is Mrs. Becker too mean? I've heard she can be hard on students who aren't part of the popular crowd."
"No fair," I signed, my eyes pleading with him to understand.
Brandon nodded. "It really isn't fair, Matt. That's why I prefer to keep a low profile. Popularity contests aren't worth the hassle.”
Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Karla standing there, a sad look on her face. "Lily, can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
I hesitated, signing, "Why?”
With a strand of hair tucked behind her ear, she leaned in and whispered, "I want to talk to you in private."
I glanced at Matt and Brandon, signing, "I'll be back, okay?"
Matt nodded, his eyes curious. "We'll be here. Take your time."
I followed Karla to the girl's bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn't sure what this was about, but I sensed it was important to her. Once we were inside, Karla pulled out a juul vape from her pocket and took a hit. The sweet smell of watermelon filled the air.
"Want a hit?" she offered, holding it out to me.
I was curious, so I signed, "Sure."
I took a cautious drag, expecting to choke, but surprisingly, I didn't. Karla laughed, "I guess you already know how to smoke. Not so innocent after all, huh?"
I rolled my eyes. "I learned from watching Effy in Skins. It's not like I've never seen it before."
Karla laughed again, a genuine sound that seemed to break through the tension between us. "Look, Lily, I wanted to apologize for what happened in the choir. I shouldn't have laughed. It was mean, and I'm sorry."
I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. A part of me wanted to accept her apology, but another part was still hurt by her earlier behavior. Before I could say anything, Karla cut in, "I know it doesn't make up for it, but I want to make it up to you. How about I take you to the skating rink this evening? It's one of our favorite places, remember?"
I hesitated, considering her offer. Finally, I signed, "Okay, I guess."
Karla's face lit up, and she gave me a quick hug. "Great! I'll text you the details. See you later, okay?" And with that, she left the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I walked back to the cafeteria, my mind racing. Matt rushed over to me, his eyes full of questions. "How did it go? What did she want?" he asked.
"It went okay," I replied, signing as I continued. "Karla invited me to the skating rink this evening."
Brandon's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, Lily. Karla hangs out with those choir girls. I don't think we can trust her, especially after what happened."
I bit my lip, understanding his concern. "What if I sneak you and Matt in too? That way, if anything goes south, we'll be together."
Matt's eyes lit up. "That's a brilliant idea! I'm in."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "It's settled, then. We're going skating."
That afternoon, I waited on the porch for Karla to pick me up. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over everything. My dad emerged from the house, dressed in his sheriff's uniform. "Why are you wearing your uniform on your day off?" I asked, curious.
He chuckled, patting my back. "Got called into work. Something strange is going on. Don't worry, I'll be fine."
I signed, "Be safe, Dad."
“I will, honey. Have fun with Karla, okay.” He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up before heading off. A minute later, a black Chevy pulled up, and I recognized it as Mrs. Becker's car. Karla leaned out the window and waved me over.
I took a deep breath and climbed into the back seat. Besides Karla, there were a few other girls from the choir class—Mandy, Hannah, Emma, Leslie, Fiona, and Brianne. Alyssa was noticeably absent.
Noticing my curious glance, Karla explained, "Alyssa had track practice. She couldn't make it."
I signed, "That's nice."
Brianne turned to Mrs. Becker and asked, "Can we get some McDonald's shakes? Please?"
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Of course, sweetie. Does anyone else want one?"
Everyone nodded eagerly, and Mrs. Becker placed an order for nine shakes. Emma and Leslie wanted vanilla, Brianne wanted the seasonal spice pumpkin flavor, Hannah and Fiona requested strawberry, Karla and Mandy chose chocolate, and Mrs. Becker asked about my preference.
"Mint, please," I said, making a gesture of a mint leaf.
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Mint it is. Anything for my girls."
I felt a warm glow spread through me. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to like me. I took a long sip of my mint shake, savoring the cool, refreshing taste.
"Chocolate is definitely the best flavor," Mandy declared, taking a sip from her own shake. "Nothing beats the classic."
"Pumpkin spice is where it's at," Brianne interjected, taking a sip of her pumpkin spice shake. "It's got that perfect blend of sweet and spicy. It's like autumn in a bite."
"Are you kidding?" Mandy scoffed. "Chocolate is timeless. It's the ultimate comfort food. Pumpkin spice is just a fad.”
"Oh c'mon! Pumpkin spice is leagues better," Brianne retorted. "It's a limited edition for a reason."
The other girls joined in, each defending their favorite flavor. I snickered at their playful bickering, feeling a sense of warmth despite the earlier tension.
About ten minutes later, Mrs. Becker pulled into the parking lot of a magenta-colored building. The girls piled out of the car, and I followed them inside, curious about our destination. Mrs. Becker turned to Brianne and said, "I'll pick you girls up at 8 pm sharp. I need to head home and take care of your little sister."
Brianne gave her mom a quick hug and yelled out, "Okay! Love you, mom!" Then she joined the choir group, whispering something in Karla's ear that made her smile in an unsettling way.
Karla walked over to me and whispered, "Hey, Lily, I want to take you to our hiding spot. It's been a while since we hung out there."
I brightened at the idea, signing, "I've missed that place. We used to act like it was our studio booth."
“Uh-huh,” Karla led me to an abandoned janitor's closet that was blocked off with a "Do Not Enter" sign. She opened the door, and I slid inside, feeling a rush of nostalgia. I slid inside the small, dimly lit closet and sat criss-cross on the floor, my heart racing with anticipation. Karla joined me, and for a moment, we just sat there, our knees touching, the silence comfortable between us.
"I've missed you, Lily," Karla signed, her expression softening.
"I've missed you too," I signed back, my heart warming at the sentiment. "It feels like it's been ages since we really talked." I looked down, my smile fading slightly. "I've missed the old Karla. The one who was always on my side, no matter what."
Karla furrowed her eyebrows, her face a mask of confusion. "What do you mean? I haven't changed, Lily. I've just matured."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "Matured? Making fun of someone less popular than you isn't mature, Karla. It's just mean spirited."
Her eyes widened at my words, and I could see the hurt flash across her face. "I haven't been making fun of you, Lily. I—"
"Yes, you have," I interrupted, my anger bubbling to the surface. "I know exactly what you and your new friends have been trying to do. You've been pretending I don't exist, like I'm not even worth acknowledging.”
Karla's face contorted with frustration. "That's not true, Lily! You always have to make everything about your disability. If anyone's changed, it's you. You used to be so happy, always laughing and joking around. Now, you just cry and complain when things don't go your way."
I signed angrily, my hands moving frantically. "How can you say that, Karla? I don't mind if you want to be more popular, but you're acting like you don't even know me. You're trying to pretend we're not friends."
Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice shook. "Maybe I don't want to be friends with you anymore, Lily. Maybe you're too held up in the past, too stuck in your own little world. You're a sad, pathetic sap, and I—"
Before she could finish her sentence, I punched her squarely in the face. The force of the blow knocked her back, and she stumbled, her hand flying to her nose.
"I wish I'd never met you, Karla!" I angrily figured my fingers around, my breathing being audible in the small space. "I wish you'd never been my friend! I wouldn't care if you dropped dead right now!"
Karla's eyes widened in shock, and tears began to stream down her face. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the janitor's closet, leaving me alone in the dimly lit space. I trembled as I crouched down in the corner, my heart pounding in my chest. I had never hit anyone before, and now I wished I could take it back. It was rather immature of me to end that way with Karla. Especially when this was the last memory I had of her alive.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, freezing me in place. It was Karla. My eyes widened in horror as I realized what I had done. I rose to my feet and ran out of the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. As I turned the corner, I came face to face with a masked man. He was tall and imposing, his mask was painted like a 1940s woman with green eyeshadow, vibrant red blush, and blood-red lips. His copper-blonde wig fell in sleek waves, contrasting with his all-black suit.
The man walked slowly towards me, his gloved hand reaching out. I kicked him in the abdomen, my fear fueling my strength. But he was too strong. He grabbed me by the waist, his gloved finger pressing against my lips.
"My little flower, I am so happy to see you." he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly.
Before I could scream or struggle, he covered my mouth with a rag. It took a while for the chloroform to finally take effect, as I remembered my last thoughts were about Karla. Sometimes I wished this encounter was just an elaborate prank played by Brianne. However it is never the case.
When I woke up, I woke up to the sound of a girl's voice, soft and melodic. My eyes felt heavy, my body sluggish as I tried to lift my head. The singing was familiar, reminding me of Karla. My heart stirred at the memory of my friend, and I tried to shake off the grogginess that clouded my mind.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I was restrained to a bed, my wrists and ankles bound. Panic surged through me, and I struggled against my bonds, my heart racing.
The singing continued, and I finally located the source—a television mounted on the wall across the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the singer. It was Karla, her face bruised and beaten, her eyes closed as she sang "Once Upon a December" from the animated movie "Anastasia." Her voice was shaky but serene, and tears pricked my eyes as I watched her performance.
I opened my mouth to scream, but only a weakened screech escaped my throat. I tugged at my restraints, desperation fueling my strength. I had to get out of here. I had to help Karla.
Catching me off guard, the door swung open, and the masked man from my encounter at the janitor's closet stepped into the room. My heart sank at the sight of him, and I shrunk back against the bed, my breath coming in short gasps.
He carried a plate of applesauce, his gloved hands setting it down on a table by the bed. "Good morning, my little flower," he said, his voice deep and distorted by the mask. "Your friend has a lovely voice," he remarked. "Have you ever wanted to sing like that?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving his face. I mouthed the words, "Let her go.”
The Masked Man smiled sadly. "Your friend has been let go. Don't worry, she's no longer suffering.”
I wanted to scream, to demand that he release me, but my voice failed me. The masked man approached the bed, his eyes cold and unfeeling. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the applesauce, then brought it to my mouth.
"Open up, sweetie," he cooed. "You need to keep up your strength."
I turned my head away, my body rigid with fear. I didn't want his help, I didn't want anything to do with him.
"Now, now, none of that," he chided, his gloved hand gently tilting my chin back towards him. "You need to eat. And one day, my little flower, you will sing too. And it will be the most beautiful voice anyone has ever heard."
Tears slipped down my cheeks as he forced the spoon into my mouth, the applesauce tasting bitter on my tongue. I choked down the food, my throat constricting with fear and anger.
The masked man set the plate down and pulled me into a tight embrace, his gloved hands stroking my hair. "Shh, my little flower. Everything will be alright. I'm here to take care of you."
I sobbed into his chest, my body shaking with grief and terror. I had no idea where I was, no concept of how much time had passed since I had been taken. All I knew was that Karla was in danger, and I was powerless to help her. The masked man held me until my sobs subsided, then gently laid me back down on the bed. "Rest now. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I closed my eyes, my mind reeling. The next time I woke, it was to the sound of my mother's sobs. I blinked groggily, my vision blurry as I tried to focus. I was in a hospital room, my mother sitting by my bedside, her face wet with tears. Matt and Brandon, my closest friends, were also there, their faces etched with concern.
"Mom?" I raised one of my hands, my fingers weak and stiff.
My mother's head snapped up, and she rushed to my side, her hands grasping mine. "Lily, oh, Lily, you're awake!" She smiled through her tears, her voice shaking. "I thought I'd lost you.”
I placed my palm to touch her cheek, my throat too dry to speak. Matt and Brandon stood by silently, their eyes filled with relief.
I then asked the big question, signing, "What... happened?"
Matt nervously stuttered, "We... We found you inside an old shed near the skating rink. You were... you were unconscious, and we called for help right away."
Brandon added, "Before that, you were missing for roughly 33 hours. We searched everywhere for you.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, unable to meet my gaze.
"You're safe now, Lily," my mother said, stroking my hair. "That's all that matters. There's nothing to worry about anymore."
I shook my head, my eyes flying open. Where was Karla? I signed, "Where's Karla?”
My mother's face crumpled, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "She's... she's still missing, Lily. We don't know where she is."
I closed my eyes, the weight of my guilt crushing me. If I hadn't fought with Karla, none of this would have happened. It was my fault she was still out there, alone and in danger.
The days turned into weeks, and Karla remained missing. The police conducted an extensive search, but there were no leads, no clues as to her whereabouts. I blamed myself, replaying the events of that fateful day over and over in my mind.
Three weeks after my rescue, the news channel delivered a devastating blow. Karla Reyes, aged 15, had been found dead, her body buried near the Yellow Rock River. She had suffered multiple bone fractures, and the unsettling detail—she had been missing her vocal cords and larynx.
I recalled the day vividly, the sun shining brightly through my hospital window as the news anchor delivered the grim update. I had broken down, sobbing uncontrollably, the reality of what had happened hitting me like a ton of bricks. I remember wanting to just die, to pay for what I have done. If I hadn't had my friends Matt and Brandon, I wouldn't have been alive writing this. And yet, I never told anyone about The Masked Man or what had transpired that day—until now. Sometimes I wonder if Karla could hear my prayers, wishing that she deserved better than this, and I'm sorry for causing her death. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I needed to say next.
Karla Reyes may have been the first victim, but she certainly wasn't the last. There were 7 more Choirs Girls left.
2024.05.18 01:33 SamMorrisHorror Them Devils Pt. 1
On the night when it all happened a young man called Smallmouth found himself in quite a pickle. He shivered and paced clumsily all over the second story porch of a cabin that used to be very nice, which overlooked a snowy down-sloping field that used to be kept up properly and carefully. He was already six packs deep into a carton of cigarettes he had bought only two days ago from a Casey’s General Store on his way up. He could recall the look on the young woman’s face at the register when he asked for a carton of Parliament Menthols, her eyes showing one blink of humorous surprise and another couple blinks of obvious concern, which faded to professional indifference as she rang in the sweet, icy killers. Smallmouth stopped his nervous dallying when he caught himself in the kitchen window; a large, shadowy figure sulking between the inside lights and the cold, almost glowing world downhill. His eyes still on his murky reflection, he patted his coat pockets for his seventh pack, pulling it out and smacking it against his left palm before cracking open and lighting it at his mouth. In a slow, warm flash, he could briefly see his own face in the window.
“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”
submitted by SamMorrisHorror to BeingScaredStories [link] [comments]
“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”
2024.05.18 01:33 SamMorrisHorror Them Devils Pt. 1
On the night when it all happened a young man called Smallmouth found himself in quite a pickle. He shivered and paced clumsily all over the second story porch of a cabin that used to be very nice, which overlooked a snowy down-sloping field that used to be kept up properly and carefully. He was already six packs deep into a carton of cigarettes he had bought only two days ago from a Casey’s General Store on his way up. He could recall the look on the young woman’s face at the register when he asked for a carton of Parliament Menthols, her eyes showing one blink of humorous surprise and another couple blinks of obvious concern, which faded to professional indifference as she rang in the sweet, icy killers. Smallmouth stopped his nervous dallying when he caught himself in the kitchen window; a large, shadowy figure sulking between the inside lights and the cold, almost glowing world downhill. His eyes still on his murky reflection, he patted his coat pockets for his seventh pack, pulling it out and smacking it against his left palm before cracking open and lighting it at his mouth. In a slow, warm flash, he could briefly see his own face in the window.
“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”
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“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”
2024.05.18 01:32 SamMorrisHorror Them Devils Pt. 1
On the night when it all happened a young man called Smallmouth found himself in quite a pickle. He shivered and paced clumsily all over the second story porch of a cabin that used to be very nice, which overlooked a snowy down-sloping field that used to be kept up properly and carefully. He was already six packs deep into a carton of cigarettes he had bought only two days ago from a Casey’s General Store on his way up. He could recall the look on the young woman’s face at the register when he asked for a carton of Parliament Menthols, her eyes showing one blink of humorous surprise and another couple blinks of obvious concern, which faded to professional indifference as she rang in the sweet, icy killers. Smallmouth stopped his nervous dallying when he caught himself in the kitchen window; a large, shadowy figure sulking between the inside lights and the cold, almost glowing world downhill. His eyes still on his murky reflection, he patted his coat pockets for his seventh pack, pulling it out and smacking it against his left palm before cracking open and lighting it at his mouth. In a slow, warm flash, he could briefly see his own face in the window.
“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”
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“Oh man, it’s bad” , he thought to himself.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his beard grew coarse and thick. A face that his mother had once called handsome had become a clean plate covered in steel wool. Well, maybe not so clean. Under and around his eyes were the obvious bruising of sleeplessness and his skin had lost its lively color and clarity of yesteryear.
“Ughhh” he groaned, turning away from the window to look over the porch and into the freezing, beckoning night.
The pickle that Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett found himself in involved his uncle, and his uncle’s evening logistics, to be precise. Smallmouth had been kicked out of his parents home on December 27th due to a slight misunderstanding at 2am when he believed the living room Christmas tree to be the downstairs bathroom. He had passed out on the couch after drinking a fire pit full of crushed Hamm’s cans and his brain tried desperately to get him up and to the nearby toilet. His little sister Stacy was tucked in fast asleep on a loveseat by the tree when she was brutally torn from her sugarplum dreams to hear the terrible hiss of Smallmouth’s folly. She screamed, the parents woke up, and, well, there you go. After well over three strikes, Smallmouth’s temporary residence had come to an end, and he was thrown to his mother’s brother’s cabin to dry up and straighten out before he could ever even be considered to return.
“You two deserve to live together. He can’t say no either because he owes me a lot more than this!” Smallmouth’s mother had screeched over him as he sat at the kitchen table the following morning with a cold bag of peas against his throbbing right temple. “You go there and you GET RIGHT!! I don’t care how long it takes just clean up your act and MAKE something of yourself! And for goodness sake tell Chuck to do the same, while he still has time!”
Yes, Uncle Chuck had his own shelf full of good time problems, and that’s what put Smallmouth in a bind tonight as he pondered over the white yonder that led to a black nothing, a black nothing that in the daylight pretended to be a forest. At night, it showed its true nature, an endless world of dark secrets and aching regret. At least that’s how Smallmouth saw it in this moment.
Chuck had gone down to the ranch he worked on for a New Years party with his work buddies. They liked to gather at the big barn where all of the vehicles and equipment were kept, sitting around a card table passing out stories about women and other trophy game that were either outright lied about or illegally poached. Oh, and they also liked to pass the bottle around. Therein lied the conundrum for Smallmouth.
Uncle Chuck was many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a drunk driver. Chuck’s wife Rebecca had been struck and killed by a drunk driver almost ten years ago when she was out jogging the back roads early one morning. Everyone assumed that’s what led him to his openly hard drinking and sneakily pill popping ways in the first place. For Chuck, most nights were kept at home, parked in front of a TV watching old westerns and cleaning out a full bottle of Wild Turkey 101 before snoring in his recliner. On the few nights he would go out, he would always call a ride if things got out of hand. As you can imagine, he tends to need a ride home.
“I should be home bout 11:30. Service ain’t so good up there near the barn so if it gets bout 11:15-11:20 and I ain’t home, go head and do me a favor and come grab me son.” Chuck had told Smallmouth before he left, closing the warped screen door behind him.
Smallmouth had spent the evening trying his best to stay entertained without the help of any chemical enhancement. His family’s anger and resentment really struck him and this time he was determined to truly get right and get his life back on the rails. He was 29 years old. He had gone through college clean as a whistle, bright and driven, receiving his MBA with plans to work his way up in a promising career in business. That worked for a couple years. Then he found a calling in ministry, deciding to quit the corporate world to fill an opening of a tiny country church in the area. They needed a deacon who could take care of things around the building and assist in the worship service. He wasn’t much for public speaking, haven been given the nickname Smallmouth at a young age due to his soft spoken nature, but he could pass plates and give a hushed prayer every now and then. He liked to mow and paint and help old ladies up the stairs. The quiet country life was really nice for him, for a while. Strange, radical ideas eventually spread through the church though, and half of its members left overnight to form their own congregation. Its funding cut in half, the church had to close its doors and the other members absorbed into other churches. Smallmouth rarely ever saw the people that had departed from the church, but rumors creeped that they met at an old abandoned building deep in the woods, performing all sorts of different acts and rituals that would purify themselves and destroy all evils. Nevertheless, Smallmouth was out of work and picked up shifts bartending at a small town dive. His soft fortitude was no match for the booze and drugs and women that would pass through there and soon he was out the door. That landed him mooching off of his parents, draining their sanity and eventually draining himself on their Christmas tree. The last strike.
So there he was all night, waiting up for uncle Chuck. He was two days clean of everything except caffeine and nicotine, a major improvement. He felt a boost of hope and confidence the first morning after a sober nights sleep. He found the mornings to be the best parts of the day. At least he had coffee and cigarettes to get him out of bed. That would wear off quickly and the rest of the day was filled with trying to find distractions until the sun set about 5pm. Then he would watch a movie or two with Chuck. Last night he had been able to call it early and go to sleep at 7pm shortly after Chuck started sawing logs in front of True Grit (the original John Wayne version of course). Tonight he saw 7pm struggle and churn into 8…….8:13……..8:48……9:05……9:29………..9:31………9:52……..9:58……….10:11…….10:12 (oh cmon)……10:27…….10:56…….and finally 11:08. It was like the clock was a 35 year old four cylinder engine oiled with crunchy peanut butter. Now, crunch time sat in the cold air as Smallmouth finished his cigarette and stewed over his decision. He really didn’t feel like going down to the barn and getting Chuck, even though it was only a couple miles. In the infancy of his sobriety he found the smallest of choices and activities to seem dire and at the very least upsettingly out of his way. Surely Chuck can get himself home on his own, right?
“No. Who knows if someone’s Aunt Rebecca or grandmother or son is out there on the road tonight” he thought.
As much as he had tried to screw up his life, Smallmouth usually knew what the right decision would be, even if he so often refused to listen. It was there ever so clearly on this New Year’s Eve, wailing in the back row of his mind like a misbehaved child during a church sermon. Smallmouth left the porch and went inside to grab his keys.
He walked out to his truck, got in, cranked it, let it sit down to one rpm, and started down the gravel driveway, which led to the gravel county road that Chuck and his few and far between neighbors lived on. He got to the mailbox and suddenly shot his attention up the road, where headlights revealed themselves out of the deep dark. It was rare to see any cars this far down Chuck’s road. In fact, there were no other houses to the right of Chuck’s cabin, spare for a couple of empty ones that were condemned but were attached to a lot of forest property.
Smallmouth squinted his eyes as a large black Dodge Ram 3500 came barreling by with a livestock trailer. Even inside his own truck he could hear a terrible noise coming from that trailer. He recognized it instantly as a pig squeal.
“The hell?” He whispered as the truck and trailer tore down the road, going around a nearby corner and out of sight. He couldn’t guess what on earth that could be about at this hour, and especially since nobody lived down there anyway. He shrugged it off though, and turned left out of the driveway, headed for drunk Uncle Chuck down at the ranch.
Ten minutes and a couple of snowy country miles later Smallmouth found himself through the metal gate of the ranch and up to the main barn, where a couple of smiling ranch hands had Chuck held up between them just outside one of two closed garage doors. A lamppost nearby cast a glow of debauchery on all of their faces, especially Chuck’s. Smallmouth got out and walked up to them smiling and shaking his head.
“Well well well…” he said with a slight laugh.
“Your Uncle put on one hell of a clinic tonight ‘Mouth” one of the hands said.
“I…..I….I don’t know what they’re tawlkin bout son” Chuck slang out before a high pitched giggle.
“I got another couple rounds in me I thinks!”
Smallmouth laughed.
“Yeah I ain’t so sure about that uncle! Let’s get on home now and let these fellas get on too.”
“Y’alright alright” Chuck said as Smallmouth took him from his buddies arms into one of his own and led him to the passenger seat of his truck.
“Happy New Years boys!!! Let’s do it all again okay?” He hollered to his waving buddies as they drove back away from the barn and through the metal gate toward home.
“You have a good time Uncle?”
“Oh…ohhh…I reckon I showed those boys how to do it” Another childish giggle.
A light snow shower seasoned the cold air as the truck rolled down the gravel country road. In the yellow headlights it made a pleasant white noise for the eyes. Chuck put his hands up staggered and vertically, fingers together and outstretched, pointing out in front of the truck down the road like he was aiming up for a rifle shot. He closed one eye.
“Straight as an arrow ole son. You’re good at this.”
“I ain’t drunk pops” Smallmouth chuckled.
“Sure ya are. Everybody’s drunk son. Even people that ain’t drink. Ticket is to get drunk on good stuff” Chuck’s face calmed from a goofy grin as he kept his eyes out front into the slow swirling tube of visible night.
“You sound like you’re drunk on some pretty damn good stuff” Smallmouth retorted as they shared a look and a good laugh.
“Suppose’n you ain’t wrong. Gotta work on that just like you are. Proud o’ you for a couple days clean man. We’ll get right. We’ll get right. All I meant was that man is born to get drunk on somethin’ or other. What I mean is God. Man is born to get drunk on his God.” Chuck said as Smallmouth shot him a raised eyebrow look of confusion.
“Once God gets ya drunk then you’re home free ol’ son. That distillery is never ending eternal forever. That land flows with whiskey and honey.” They both shared another laugh.
“Okay okay I think I somewhat understand now Uncle.”
They rode in a few seconds of comfortable silence before Chuck put his hands up in an aim position down the road again.
“You know…man….man….man has a GOVERNOR…..you know that right?”
“A what? A governor?”
“That’s right a GOVERNOR…that’s right…a little bitty device in his brain that keeps him on the road…keeps him from turning right off into the dark. You ever hear that little voice that tells you you can turn off into the ditch…into oncomin’ traffic? Tells you you can shoot your buddy instead of the deer? That you can jump off the top of the building and onto the pavement when you’re up there enjoying the view?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…I mean maybe? Pretty sure those are intrusive thoughts and they’re normal.”
“Well whatever they are that’s what the governor is for. Keeps ya straight. Keeps ya from harmin nothin.”
“Alright man, alright.”
They pulled back into Chuck’s driveway and parked. Smallmouth helped his uncle out of the truck and up into the cabin, snow starting to color the roof and pile against the side of the house near the door. Arms locked Smallmouth propped open the screen door, opened the inner door, and led Chuck through the kitchen and to his bedroom. Chuck layed down on his camo comforter with a deep, long exhale.
“Ahhhh yes……yes” he whispered with a smile.
“I love ya son…I’m glad you’re heeeeere. Let’s get better….your mom needs it…..stay in the Lord’s light son…don’t let them devils get ya….let’s get better….lets….” He was off into the distant deep ether almost immediately, and his mouth hung open.
“Goodnight uncle…love ya too.” Smallmouth patted the bed twice before walking over and closing the bedroom door behind him.
He went and sat at the kitchen table. He regretted his behavior earlier in the night. How it pained him to have to stay up a little later to go help out his uncle.
“Cmon…” he whispered.
He agreed with Chuck. He was here to get better. To do better. Maybe Chuck was right. If he couldn’t get drunk off booze, it was time to pick something else to drink. Better things. Maybe even God? Smallmouth hadn’t paid much mind to God since his church job fell through. God surely hadn’t been there for him these last few years when he was at his lowest. Or was He there the whole time? Had Smallmouth just ignored Him? These things floated heavily in his mind and soon he realized he had been staring at the front door for several minutes. Had he even blinked? Then something else came to mind.
“Wait hold up”
That truck and trailer from earlier. What WAS that? He meant to bring it up to the ranch hands. They would’ve seen it come barreling down the road right by their front gate. Oh he wished he had brought that up to them. Oh well. It’s probably nothing. Smallmouth looked at the clock. 12:12.
“Happy New Year old boy.” He said to himself.
He sat for a moment in the warm kitchen light, his eyes not leaving the front door. Well, he’s up this late already, why not go run down and check on the abandoned properties?
No…no…it can wait. It’s probably nothing. Right?
Wrong. There’s that wailing kid in the back pew of his mind again. Come on kid can’t you just be quiet and listen to the sermon? No, no it can’t. It must be heard. Always. He knew he had to go check it out.
“Ughhhh FINE!” Smallmouth got up and grabbed his truck keys, patted to make sure his cigarettes were still there, and was out the door again.
The snow shower had ended. As he pulled up to the edge of the drive, he stalled for a moment and peaked out as far to the right as he could down the dark road. Nothing. It wasn’t very far to the end of that road, where two out of service mailboxes should’ve stood in a small cul-de-sac if it weren’t for teenagers beating them to splinters. Can’t really blame them either. Smallmouth considered his plan. Whether or not that truck belonged to the landowner down there, he shouldn’t feel like he needs to sneak around. He is merely a concerned neighbor after all. He began down the road and around that same corner the stranger disappeared earlier.
After a couple of slow, curious minutes Smallmouth could see the evidence of a great big fire in the near distance, beyond where the road ended. Through the bare trees and against the snow it cast orange and red that could surely be seen a mile in every direction, that is, if there were anyone there to see it.
Slightly intimidated, Smallmouth decided to turn off his headlights and let the fire guide him as he slowed up to 5mph and gently crackled his last few yards of gravel up to the remnants of the nearest mailbox post. It seemed the fire was on the land of the farther property, whose mailbox posthole was about 30 feet from where he came to a stop and parked his truck. Smallmouth turned it off and quietly got out into the cold. He crouched down as he walked over to the farther driveway, getting down on one knee to give it a stealthy closer look.
The abandoned property boasted a busted up trailer that sat pitifully about 500 feet from the mailbox memorial. Beyond that was a good ten acres of field that ended at the forest edge, which marked the beginning of thousands of acres of wildlife refuge. As Smallmouth peered on, it was obvious that the fire was way out in that field, blocked by the old trailer, which wore the hot light and columns of smoke on it like a devilish crown. Given the cover, Smallmouth crept over to the trailer and started easing around the right side.
Rounding the corner he noticed a propane tank that would be perfect for hiding behind and getting the best look he could at the mysterious activity. He got down on his belly and crawled his way over to the tank, before sitting up and peeking slowly over the top and out into the field.
Way down there, a couple acres away from the tree line, was a huge fire, made up of about fifty wooden pallets. It raged and lit up the whole field like it was just the beginning of sunset. Somewhat near the fire was the black Dodge Ram 3500 and trailer. Smallmouth could see a group of people dressed in all red, as if covered in bloody bedsheets from head to toe, circled around a crude cage, seemingly fastened together by pieces of metal fencing. They stood still as the pines, and twice as silent. Smallmouth, in a rare moment of curious courage, decided he had to get closer. He got back on his stomach and began to crawl through the cold, knee high grass.
Using the fire light as his North Star he crawled and crawled, feeling his hands, clothes, and beard get wet with snow. He didn’t care. Something was up that wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. He could feel it in his cold gut. When he thought he was close enough without giving himself away he planted his palms and ever so slowly raised his torso up into a weak push up to try and see out. He was glad he didn’t go any further. He may have been too close already.
He was close enough to read the name of the truck and count the holes in the livestock trailer. There were seven strangers in red sheets all around the makeshift cage, all holding long spears. One of the figures had a crown of black thorns on his head. They all had two eyeholes and one hole for the mouth. They didn’t move a muscle for the longest time, before the Crowned One forcibly touched the end of his spear to the ground.
“Now is the time, Brother and Farmer Abraham…there is no more for us in waiting.”
Smallmouth had just noticed the passenger window to the black Dodge was down, and he could hear the driver door open and soon saw a normal looking older man in a ball cap at the back of the trailer. He was holding a leash of some sort. He opened up the trailer and whistled into the dark of it. After a couple of loud, heavy thuds a gigantic, and I mean GIGANTIC Yorkshire pig came slowly shrugging out of the trailer. It was light pink in color but filthy, and gave wet sounding oinks as it came to the man’s hands expecting food. The thing must’ve weighed 1500 pounds, and at least ten feet long. It actually had to lower its head to reach the man’s hands, its ears coming up to the man’s chest. Smallmouth couldn’t believe his eyes. The man reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of some type of feed, which he tossed on the ground at the pig. It started right in as the man fixed a collar on the pigs girthy neck, then attaching a leash. The pig gave a slight squeal.
“Good girl, good girl…cmon now” the man called Farmer Abraham sweetly coaxed the animal. He gave his end of the leash a tug and the monstrous swine reluctantly left its food and followed the man over close to the Crowned One. The fire raged and raged nearby, throwing crazy shadows all over the place.
“What have you brought us, Brother and Farmer Abraham?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Old Azazel, she’s been in my family for years, man.”
The Crowned One dropped his spear and knelt down to the jowls of the hog, the dark holes of his eyes meeting those of the animal. The other red cloaked figures remained statuesque around the cage.
“Ah, yes, Old Azazel, hello. You are to be of great importance in the history of the Earth tonight, old friend.”
The Crowned One got back up to address Brother and Father Abraham, who seemed obviously put off, yet submissive.
“And is this Old Azazel a natural specimen? Is it fed only of the earth and the filths therein?”
“Yessir, I’d reckon so.”
“This is necessary for a proper sacrifice, Brother and Farmer Abraham. You may only bring your best, your cleanest, your most dear to the alter of the Almighty.”
“I understand.”
“May I take her now?”
The farmer gave his end of the leash to the black gloved left hand of the Crowned One. The Crowned one stood with it for almost a full minute in total stillness and silence. The only noise Smallmouth could hear was the sloppy smacks and oinks from Old Azazel. The farmer anxiously waited, wringing his hands expecting the next move from the Crowned One.
“Turn away, Brother and Farmer Abraham. Turn away from us and toward the fire now.” The Crowned One finally spoke.
“Phew, alright. We’re still good on our deal? Do you still promise to make my little girl better? Like you said?” The farmer asked, with some hopeful desperation.
“Turn now.”
“Well okay” the farmer turned his back to the Crowned One and toward the fire.
“I can assure you with all of the knowledge in my mind and in my heart, you will never see your daughter sick again in this lifetime, Brother and Father Abraham. You may find peace and solace in this truth.”
The farmer nodded in relief as he looked upon the fire. Smallmouth, taking it all in with great confusion, could see a smile on the farmers fire lit face, and turned back to the Crowned One just in time to see him reach under his red garment and pull out a pistol and shoot a round into the back of the farmers head, blowing his cap off, which frisbeed down near his shaking, crumpled body. Old Azazel threw a fit immediately, screaming and trying her best to flee. The Crowned One held the immense beast with one hand, and with seemingly little effort. The other red clothed figures finally made noise, laughing deep and heartily around the cage. The Crowned One, keeping Old Azazel close, walked over to the doubled over farmer, putting two more bullets into his head, essentially hollowing it out into a carnal mess. The farmers shaking mercifully stopped.
Smallmouth had to slam his forearm up to his mouth to muffle the scream that would’ve come out and blown his cover. His eyes were flown wide open and his arms were shivering.
The Crowned One put the pistol back under his red cloak and led the great pig, still squealing as high pitched and piercing as the human ear can withstand, over to the mouth of the cage, which was opened by the nearest red clothed stranger. Old Azazel flew in to the cage, having been unleashed by The Crowned One. It struggled around the cage, which was no bigger than 15x15 feet, giving it no room to get comfortable. It circled the inner perimeter, showing impressive speed for such a large animal. It squealed and squealed. The sound stung Smallmouths ears, and he covered them with his hands. He was still out of sight in the tall grass. The Red People around the cage laughed at the hogs entrapment. The Crowned One raised a hand to signal silence. The Red People were still and quiet again.
“Now, my brothers, the sacrificial gift is in our possession. Tonight…is a HOLY NIGHT.” The Crowned One raised his voice as if getting to the climax of a fire and brimstone sermon.
“TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY WHAT WAS ONCE CAST OUT BUT NEVER VANQUISHED!! WE WILL RID THE EARTH OF A GREAT ARMY!! AN ARMY OF HELL THAT HAS FAR TOO LONG ROAMED AND SICKENED OUR LANDS AND KILLED OUR LOVES!! TONIGHT…WE WILL DESTROY THE DESTROYERS…THE LEGION OF SATANS SOLDIERS BORN JUST AFTER THE GARDEN OF EDEN FELL…”
The Crowned One fell to his knees, his arms up and stretched toward the frozen sky. A mighty wind began blowing at Smallmouths back. He had to lower his head as it roared over him. After a moment it calmed and he was able to lift up again to see. Winds from all corners of the field met at the cage, swirling over it in a great snowy funnel that led up to the clouds. Old Azazel screamed and screamed from the cage.
“I SEE YOU VILLIANS!! I HEAR YOU HOSTS OF HELL!! I KNOW YOU LIVE IN THESE TREES!! I KNOW YOU COWER WITHIN THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!! SHOW YOURSELF!! TAKE THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL THAT I HAVE SET BEFORE YOU!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW AND FACE ME!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE IT NOW!! TAKE I-“
The Crowned One’s vocal cord shredding performance was cut short by a single burst of black lightning that shot down from the middle of the snowy funnel cloud that surrounded the cage. The Crowned One and all the Red People were thrown several feet back from the blast. Thunder immediately exploded across the field. Smallmouth buried his face as the force and sound raced over him. Ears ringing, he kept his face down for a few seconds. He squinted back up to the strike zone.
The strange black lightning had blown the cage completely apart. Two of The Red People had been hit with the metal fencing. One laid motionless. The other gargled in pain as he put a hand to the pole that was sticking out of his sternum, having penetrated all the way through. His legs buckled and he fell forward, the end of the pole hitting the ground first and propping him up for a moment, before his body slowly slid down to the ground around the metal. He went silent. The other four Red People, yelling in surprise, gathered themselves, looking to the charred hole in the ground where Old Azazel should be, right in the center where the cage used to stand. The Crowned One got to his feet and picked up his spear.
“My brothers, gather your arms…” the Crowned One whispered, breathing heavily under his red cloak.
“The work is not over…”
The four remaining Red People grabbed their spears and slowly walked over to the burnt, smoking hole, holding an attack pose over it until further instructions were given.
“Are you with us, you age old tormentors?” This was the first time Smallmouth could hear fear in the tired voice of the Crowned One.
“Are you with us now? Are you ready to die, you infernal bastards? Are you ready to-“
The Crowned One was interrupted by a booming noise from the hole that tore Smallmouths wits to shreds. It was similar to the cry of Old Azazel, but much deeper and ten times louder and angrier. It was as if a freight train was blaring its horn and slamming its brakes at the same time.
“NOW MY BROTHERS!! STRIKE THE BEAST OF HELL WITH YOUR SPEARS! NOW!!!”
The Red People all threw their weapons down into the smoking hole. The hellish noise from within stopped in an instant. The Red People crowded closer to the edge of the hole, waiting for the smoke to clear. The Crowned One walked over to them, putting his black gloved hand on the shoulder of the nearest man.
“Oh, Brothers. Oh my dear, dear Brothers. Your acts tonight have rid the earth of a Great and Powerful Evil…”
Before he could continue, a fully enraged and re-inspired bellow thrust itself up and out of the hole like a serrated blade. Much, much louder and angrier than before. The Red People were taken aback in terror. Suddenly, from within the hole, a large head emerged and gaped a huge, disgusting maw up at the crowd. The head was burned black and its eyes were half boiled white and without pupils. It shrieked out that most terrible noise as if it didn’t need oxygen.
“There’s no way” Smallmouth heard himself say under his breath.
All in one motion, the beast leaped out of the hole, and turned to face its attackers. It was Old Azazel, except swollen with burnt mass. It appeared to have grown a half a size at least. Three spears stuck out of its sizzling, charcoal colored back. It snapped its gigantic jaws at the Red People, who shuddered in horror. The Crowned One spoke:
“DO NOT RELENT BROTHERS!! ATTACK!! ATTACK THE BRUTE!!”
He pulled his pistol back out of his cloak and fired the remaining three rounds on the new and horrible black burnt Old Azazel. The beast’s cloudy boiled egg eyes shot open along with its unnaturally stretched jaws. It took the three bullets as if they were tennis balls. At the speed of a charging grizzly and with multiple times the power Old Azazel raged over to The Crowned One and dove onto him mouth first, putting both front hooves on his chest as he was knocked down. The Crowned One cried out in a shockingly high pitched wail, like a man being electrocuted. The Beast bit right into the soft of his belly, and began to shake him around like an Orca trying to separate a seal from its pelt.
“OH GOD!!!! AHHHHHH GOD OHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!! NOOOO!!!! OH GOD HELP ME!!!! MAMA!!!! OHHHH!!! MAMA!!!!!”
The beast ate and ate and shook and shook and tore and broke and destroyed while the Crowned One lost more and more of his body, all while crying out to the sky at the top of his punctured lungs. The other Red People sprinted to the black Dodge Ram, opened its doors and piled inside. Smallmouth heard it crank up and it began to speedily turn around and race away from the fire and back toward the road. The beast unhooked from the Crowned One and let out another ghastly roar of victory before biting into his neck, ending his screaming forever. The beast then left his half devoured body and began a tremendous and terrible charge after the truck, which was greatly slowed down by the trailer. Smallmouth put his face down as the beast passed him by only about 10 feet on its way to the truck, which had just made it back to the road and was using every RPM possible to get away from the demon charged killing machine on its heels. Smallmouth turned around to watch both parties disappear down the road, the echoes of that great and evil blasting noise stabbing his ears again. He remained on his stomach in the tall, snowy grass for another two minutes as he normalized his breath and tried to make any sense of what he just witnessed.
Eventually he slowly rose up and looked to make sure that terrible thing was indeed out of the area. No signs of life or death from up at the road. The danger was at least a couple miles away by now. Smallmouth then turned back toward the fire and to the dominated body of the Crowned One. He carefully walked up closer and closer. To his amazement he heard wheezy noises coming from the emptied out torso of the man, a scattering of insides and flesh and blood strewn all around him. Troubled, rattling breaths escaped from under the red clothed head, whose crown of thorns had flown off in the attack. Most of the red cloak had been ripped to shreds, and all that remained covered were his shoulders and above. The cloth slowly ebbed and flowed with breath. Smallmouth could not believe this man was still alive. His entire digestive system was eviscerated and his ribs were exposed. Smallmouth knelt down beside him and lifted his cloak over his head to let him at least breathe his last in the open air.
Smallmouth let out a gasp. This man had a face that Smallmouth knew very well. He recognized him immediately from the old church he worked at. The clean shaven face. The short, silver hair. The sharp nose. This was a man that had joined his church two weeks before the schism. He never spoke in church but it was rumored he would meet at the homes of different members and try to sway them to his strange ideas. He was the one rumored to have led the radical faction somewhere in the middle of the woods. To Smallmouth, it was all starting to make more sense.
“I know you,” Smallmouth said softly, “I know who you are. You tore a church in half didn’t you? You’re the crazy guy that split up my ole church! What the hell have you done?”
The man struggled to breathe and tried his best to spit up a couple of words. His neck had deep lacerations that flowed with escaping life.
“I…I…I…uhh…I only…I only…I only did what I believed…” he whispered before a wet, stifled breath.
“What did you do?!!!” Smallmouth grew angry, and his voice followed suit. This man had ruined his job and now he had unleashed something horrifying on his neighborhood. He had tampered with things that man has no business tampering with.
“I…I…I have…have…I have failed, Smallmouth Bassett” the man croaked. Smallmouth couldn’t believe he had bothered to remember his name.
“I have failed. I have failed. God help you all…” with that the man’s face fell and he let out one last slow exhale before all was still.
Smallmouth got back on his feet and looked away from the dead man and toward the fire, which towered and raged in the reflection of his eyes.
“Oh no…oh no…oh no” he said in between terrified breaths.
Then another though hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Uncle Chuck…”