Does alcohol kill impetigo

To my fellow Filipinos who are here, after a 3 long year battle of Halitosis and almost killed myself. I can say that I'm finally cured. Im just like you. Ive done everything, bought every expensive mouthwash, supplements, antibiotics, ppi, oral probiotics, grown and drank kefir, done checkups from gastro to ent, bloodtest, endoscopy, camera inserted in the nose because i also have PND, got tonsillectomy, wasted thousands of bucks with no luck.
Got a healthy molar extracted because it reeks when i floss, scraping tongue until it bleeds, nasal rinsing twice a day every single day, i even thought i have candida overgrowth because of the water test. lost a lover, left my job and my parents house and isolated myself from the world.
Gudied Biofilm Therapy ended it all. All the accumulated bacteria in my mouth and tongue thats been hiding under a biofilm cannot be killed by brushing, mouthwashing and scraping alone is NOW KILLED. My periodontist used a blue solution that will be spread in your mouth including tongue and cheeks to see where the bacteria breeds, if it turned dark blue its a very old bacteria, if it turned pink its a 3 day old bacteria. So my cheeks and tongue turned super blue, meaning bacteria has been breeding there. She used a water jet that has powdered antimicrobial solution to wash away the biofilm in my tongue, gum and cheeks. My mouth felt super clean afterwards the smell of my saliva went away too.
She also gave me a maintenance for 2 months, orahex with chlorhexidine, she also found out my salivary glands are blocked causing dry mouth due to using listerine with alcohol, she gave Hyaluronic mouthwash, candy for xerostomia and l reuterii oral probiotics. Btw, this periodontist is also a Halitosis specialist. She's very professional and won't make you feel uncomfortable.
Its been 5days and im still bad breath free, I havent brushed since morning, i ate sardines, drank coffee and milk and my mouth doesn't smell any more, I also used to avoid dairy as much as possible, it was hell. my saliva smells nothing even if i rub my molars that used to reek. my tongue is also pink now. People dont react anymore when i talk close to them. Before a doctor told me i have bad breath, she smelled it 4ft away. I have post nasal drip, gastritis and hpylori. But the periodontist told me its not coming from the gut. Its in the mouth. Those are acid bacteria lives in the mouth. I still have post nasal drip though but i still have fresh breath. My saliva came back and i dont have dry mouth anymore.
I hope you can find GBT in your country. Its a latest cleaning technology. Im lucky i found my periodontist. Shes the only clinic in my country that does GBT. It's quite expensive and latest and new technology for oral prophylaxis but its super worth it. Btw i live in the Philippines. And THIS IS NOT AN ADVERTISEMENT.
To GOD BE ALL THE GLORY, KING OF KINGS, LORD OF LORDS, JESUS CHRIST 👑🙌🏻

That’s basically it. You don’t need a long history post because I’m sure you’ve all heard it before. I’m living with my mom in her 60s who has had a long time drinking problem, likely started to numb the pain of her childhood abuse. The only problem is she had kids too who were and are hurt by her destructive drinking.
I never asked her to be sober, I wouldn’t ask her that, but she still hides the extent of her drinking. A few years ago she got into a near fatal car crash while drunk and said she’d swear off hard liquor forever. We know how that goes.
She is going to lose access to her grandkids soon and that may kill her faster than the alcohol.
I am financially destitute, which is why I’m living with her, but I try not to be a burden. I have a full time job and I pay my own bills. Only thing I don’t pay is rent. I still feel like a huge burden. I feel like if I was the perfect daughter she wouldn’t drink. I know that’s not true but it’s eating me alive because I’ll never be that.
I just wish she wouldn’t lie. I was making us dinner tonight and she must have snuck upstairs for a drink at some point because she came back down slurring her words and wobbling. I yelled at her and she went back upstairs and passed out. Now I’m just sitting here crying over cold food.
I’m not ready to lose her. We have never had a good relationship it’s always been hard but things really were getting better, or so I thought. I’m always the one defending her to other family members and pointing out all the ways she has improved. Then she goes and does something like this. I just want my mommy back. I want her not to hurt anymore. I wish I was enough for her.
Haha said I wasn’t gonna ramble on and here I am. Guess I’m a hypocrite too.

TL;DR: PLEASE READ THE LN!!!
I've always had an obsession over manhwa and manga (especially OI), and I was especially intrigued because how polarizing people's opinions were on it. I love my fair share of angst and trauma porn and toxicity, and although I dig through all the webtoon and manga trash out there, even I have lines I don't cross/tolerate, and series I drop. Especially with abusive/toxic couples, shit story, lack of development, lack of realism, lack of respect, misogyny, repetitive tropes, etc. But I always give everything a try (even trashy sexist smuts or Chinese manhuas)
But please I IMPLORE you: give the light novel of [My Beloved Oppressor] a read. The manhwa is great and beautiful, but doesn't do the story as much justice with how many details and emotional nuances that are left out. It's so rushed too.
I just finished and I am clutching my pears, biting my fist, sobbing my eyes out, and screaming.
I came for toxic hot trash and irredeemable black haired MLs and timid FLs to rag on, but actually got pretty hooked and teary from these 20 manhwa chapters. I saw on this reddit a great free place to read quality translations at: https://www.patreon.com/collection/188783?view=expanded
I do not ever read LNs for even my top-tier SSS class manhwas, but I had an unusual pull into these characters' lives and story. And thus I began to spiral with these characters.
To avoid spoilers, I wasn't expecting the development of the story, and I truly felt like I was going through the same life-changing rollercoaster as the characters. Not just the FL and ML but the world, setting, side characters, etc. the story is well thought out, detailed, BEAUTIFULLY written and expressed, and I literally felt like I was being sucker punched at some parts I was almost nauseous and disoriented. I could clearly picture scenes with such an artistic vivid imagination and suffered to many emotions throughout the reading.
My tissues are soaked with hot tears, and yet at the end I feel so unbelievably hurt and yet whole from the entire LN. The side stories and ending seriously felt so complete, and I felt there weren't any loose ends besides maybe some parts of the MLs past and whatnot, but I never said this series was perfect. I am very satisfied after, although I feel so impacted.
But they felt like fleshed out characters that I can't bring myself to love or hate, and I just want them find peace and happiness. I love how the FLs draws her line and doesn't just come running back to the ML when he's all ghastly and begging forgiveness. And he honestly doesn't do too much annoying begging and obsessing. He does try his best to separate them and to just love her from the shadows and be respectful of her wishes, although he's horrified of the thought of her killing herself while out. Even if not perfectly or at first. He also doesn't just leave his duties to some poor assistant side character, or completely neglect his role as the commander. In fact, he drowns in it since he feels it's the best thing he can do for her (bring peace and end the war and make a better place for her to live). It's my pet peeve when MLs abandon their jobs/duties over their loss of the FL and the company/empire/whatever they're running suffers from his emotional outbursts and grief over her while he's got bags under his eyes and has sexy shot of him with alcohol and cigarettes lmao.
The MLs development is truly such a breath of fresh air. I can understand his fucked up mentality and obsession, his self-deprication, self-destructive nature, and inferiority, and so on. And the FL isn't some pushover smiley happy Mary Sue. She has her flaws and confronts them throughout the story, and she's not some completely innocent perfect victim either. She really grows so much and I love how she interacts with Heiner. She really recognizes how unhealthy his 'love' is until he fully recognizes his feelings and perspective.
They get dirty and scarred, fight and argue, have unbearably sweet moments that made me want to burst, and gut wrenching parts that made me have to set me phone down. The insight the LN gives to Annette and Heiner's thoughts and feelings is on a whole different level.
For the homies who already read all of the LN too: First of all, Catherine supremacy for life. They were a fleshed out family with feelings, and not some tool or stepping stone for Annette like other runaway FLs after escaping or divorce.
Can't stress enough how the story doesn't just tunnel vision on the main couple too. Side characters are part of the story and make big impacts. Even the sniper at the church who got his face mauled is who saved her life in the fire. And even Catherine (in the side stories) would give it to Heiner over the phone and he'd reflect on himself. Even the guy who ratted Annette out while she was staying with them post-divorce showed up again when he lost his legs in battle and they had a moment together.
Annette's descent into depression was depicted so realistically it hit too close to home. The memory loss, handwriting and dexterity degradation, and her reaction to the miscarriage felt too real. So often depictions can feel too cheap or shallow. I was horrified by her suicide attempts but could completely put myself in her shoes. But it just doesn't go away quickly either, she does struggle with it and taking care of herself, or having the motivation to recover or do therapy to improve her ruined left hand after the church collapse
>!But seriously, the war church fire incident and the piano was seriously immaculate. The references to the Saint mural and glimpses to the past that reminds me of how far we've come and how much of her life has changed, Joseph, and the piano-playing scene. The shaken feelings of the enemy troops and battle with morality, that moment of pure serenity, I was so absorbed. I mean the play that the piano and music had in her journey and the story too was so tasteful.
And oh my God the ending with the title meaning reveal- I seriously thought it was another shitty toxic title but it was actually the name of the song Heiner fell in love with before he met her... and the one she played that lured him in. And what a switch around because I always assumed the ML was the oppressor in question, but really it was the FL to him because how much she engulfed his life. They even address in the story how her love is spread between so many things (piano) and people, and Heiner has nothing but her.!<
It's really such a tragedy that his innocent youthful crush became such a a double edged serrated knife. So obsessive and convoluted, and he created a cult-like worship of a fictional version of her in his head >! through extreme torture... I mean that kind of disassociation was literally the only way he could survive. Plus how could someone raised the way he was understand love and how to give/receive it? !<
I'll stop rambling here for now but guys please comment or something, I have so many feelings after reading the LN I NEED to talk more about it with someone 😭

Hey all! So I wanted to give a part two since I'm not high now lol, and also I wanted to clear up some things and add in some other details I left out that I just remembered. If you haven't seen the first part of this post then I suggest going to that, otherwise you'll be very confused. Also, I forgot to add this in my first post but DON'T READ if triggered by certain topics like r*ape, SA, murder, abuse, etc. Another thing is, this post is going to be a lot darker and aside from talking about what happened, I'm also looking for advice on my mental state and how to cope. So please read with caution because I'm going to be talking about what happened with B, but also about my past before him and how what happened is affecting my past trauma.
So, I'm not going to retell the whole story but I am going to be bringing up a lot of parts from it and things I didn't realize until after the incident happened. And some of the things I didn't think of until my friend brought it up. So in my first post, I was talking about how B (26M) was REALLY into Jeffrey Dahmer. Well, in the show we watched with Evan Peters, I noticed a lot of things Jeffrey did as well as already knowing a lot about him before watching it. I noticed that B was doing a lot of things similar to him. Now, I forgot to add in this part last time, but B was really 'straight phobic.' Now I'm a bi transman but I don't hate cis / straight people. In fact, a lot of my friends are cis and in straight relationships. For some reason though, he did, to a weird extent. And even though he was being respectful in the beginning, I'm starting to get a feeling he wasn't actually gay or cared about trans people. Because it seems as though ALL of his former partners were transmen. Which isn't that weird I guess, and he did tell me he tried dating a cis man before but it didn't work. After I met him in person he was telling me that he really liked his trans partners to still have sex vaginally and he liked tits. So, I was kind of confused at that. I think what was really going on was that he isn't gay but wanted to be so he could be like Jeffrey Dahmer. I know it's a bit of a stretch, but you'll see why later. So another thing is, Jeffrey would always ask his potential victims to go back to his place for drinks and to take photos, particularly sexual ones. Jeffrey would then lace the drinks and go on to do weird things to his victims while taking their pictures. And while I was trapped at his place, B kept pushing alcohol on me, A LOT. So much so, that when I kept refusing he started getting angry. However, once I pretended to take a sip it was like his whole attitude changed. He also kept joking it was laced, like EVERYTIME he offered me some. Even though I didn't actually drink any, like I said in the first post, I still got a few drops on my lips and in my mouth. After that I started to get a headache and was a bit dizzy. Also, he had told me before that he liked to take pictures of his partners in sexual poses while they held his guns. Aside from the guns, that's EXACTLY WHAT JEFFREY WOULD DO. For some reason, I didn't piece any of this together until afterwards. I guess I was too shaken up to think clearly. I said this before as well, but when I first entered his house, it was pitch black and he had black out curtains on EVERY WINDOW in his house. His bedroom, living room, kitchen, I mean his whole house made it seem like it was night outside. Another thing that is eerily similar to Jeffrey, is that B told me before I met him in person he always liked dating someone younger. I, at the time, was nineteen and he was twenty five, about to turn twenty six. I honestly don't know what was wrong with me so have not seen the BIG RED FLAGS in the beginning, but he played it off so well I didn't even notice them until after everything happened. And it isn't like me to go for older guys, I usually try to go for someone two years older or younger than me, as I don't like have a huge age gap between me and my partner. Anyway though, Jeffrey always went for younger guys, as well as sometimes KIDS. So, that's another thing similar between them, as well as the fact that B told me he was into little brother play. Where he makes his partners act like a younger brother during sex, etc. He also told me he liked for his partners to SUCK ON BINKIES. BRUHHHH, no thanks bro, I'm good. See, if it was just one of these things that he liked / was into, then I guess it would be normal. Just a guy into a weird ass kink, but all these things combined just did not sit right with me as well as how he was acting. Now, I said in my other post that basically the ENTIRE TIME I was with him, he had a weird ass expression on his face that made me uncomfortable. I wish I could explain better, but it was like constipated / confused look, like Edward from Twilight when he does those weird facial expressions. His brows were always furrowed and he looked like he was uncomfortable / anxious the whole time. He was being super sketchy. His body language was just really off-putting and made me feel weird. And the thing he kept ranting about the most was how Jeffrey Dahmer was misunderstood and just needed someone to be there for him, and then maybe he wouldn't have killed people. The thing that scared me the most was how he said he felt the same way, that he wished he could just have someone not leave him and how he had trust issues after his former partners. Especially the one I mentioned in the last post, about how his ex partner before me snuck out in the middle of the night and got his family to come get him. His family lived across the country, so it had to have been pretty bad for his ex to call his parents and tell them to come get him. Because they drove across multiple different states to come pick him up in the middle of the night so he could sneak away. I have a major feeling that B left out a lot of their fight and why his ex actually left. Not to mention while I was with him, he watched every move I made and wouldn't let me get on my phone without him seeing what I was doing / texting to people. I have a feeling if he thought I was trying to leave him he would've done something bad. Just like Jeffrey. Jeffrey wouldn't always hurt his victims (Not at first anyway) it was always when they said they had to leave that he would get angry and force them to stay. So, idk man, I could've been killed or worse. Also, I know I said I could've been killed or worse, and some of you are probably thinking what's worse than being killed? Well, to me, a lot of things he could've done would have been worse. Especially if he was trying to be like Dahmer, then I could've gotten acid injected into my brain or been r*aped. Which is exactly what I think he was trying to do, with how much alcohol he was trying to push on me. He also kept 'petting' me and touching my thighs while he told me all the ways he'd kill me 'if he was a serial killer.' I genuinely think that something bad would've happened if I didn't have one HELL of an excuse to leave. Because honestly, my mom couldn't have given a better excuse for me to go that also sounded real and not like a lie. Because, like I said before, I had told him before I met him that my mother had health issues and was always in and out of the hospital, so it was perfect that she used that as an excuse. He got really cold and wasn't speaking to me when he heard my phone call and that I had to leave, but I think if I would've tried to leave without that excuse or by giving him an obvious lie, then I might not be here. I'm also super grateful to my best friends who let me come to their place and stay late instead of going home. Me and my best friend, basically my sister, have talked about this a lot since it happened and every time we do, we try to rationalize why someone would act like that, other than being an actual serial killer / r*pist. But we can never think of a reason besides the fact that he simply is what he seems like. A really unhinged person who could've hurt me badly. Also, this was my FIRST TRUE experience in online dating and I honestly think I'm never going to try that again. I've run into so many creeps trying to date online, AND in real life. Most people who aren't trans probably don't realize or know this, but there are a lot of men that want to do really weird and fucked up things to trans people because I guess they think we are some mutant or something, or 'the best of both worlds.' I've run into them a lot, and when I met B, I thought that was over. I thought I had met an actual good person who was educated on trans topics and was respectful of my boundaries and my body. Nope. Now I'm starting to think dating, at least where I live now, is almost impossible and I think I'm going to be alone for awhile. :') Not to mention, I'm now traumatized after what happened with B, and I already had trouble trusting men, and just people in general. Before meeting him I have already been SAed before, multiple times. I guess I'm simply asking for advice on how to move on from something like this. I was trying, and doing kind of ok, moving on from things that had happened before I met B, but now after what happened with him I feel like I'm back sliding and it's making me relive all my past traumas. I basically trust no one, when it comes to sexual things, besides my two best friends I've known since childhood. I tend to over sexualize everything, even things that aren't sexual at all, and get scared around ANYONE, even family members, who I know deep down don't see me like that. I was also abused as a kid and wasn't able to get out of it until I was eighteen, and I've only just turned twenty now, so it wasn't even until two years ago I was still being abused. I feel I've fallen into the dark again and my panic attacks have gotten worse again. I feel depressed and I didn't realize until recently that I'm suicidal again. I didn't realize it until recently, because when I was younger and suicidal, I knew I was. I've tried unaliving myself before so I didn't think about it because I don't feel that way now. It's different this time. Instead of my thoughts directly wanting me to pull out a gun and, ya know, this time it's more subtle and more of a subconscious action. Like closing my eyes for a few seconds while driving. Or intrusive thoughts about ramming head first into the car in the other lane. Or going hiking and thinking of what it would feel like to step off the cliff. I'm honestly just tired. I feel like every person I meet has some kind of ulterior motive, whatever it is. I'm working at a really nice job but it seems like every time I save up money and am doing good for my future, I have to use it on something unexpected that pops into my life. I'm living with my grandparents for now because they said they weren't going to charge me rent, and I'm super grateful for that, but even still I can't keep money and I kind of just don't see my future anymore. Both my parents were drug addicts, my mother to pain pills then xans after that, my father was mainly an alcoholic but also did meth, pills, and other things. It doesn't help because when I was younger, around my early teen years (13-16) I started smoking cigs when I was 12, then I started smoking weed, which I still do, but then it got worse and I've tried xans, snorting pills I didn't even know what they were, drinking, and I've even done shrooms and LSD. I've also had some really bad trips on LSD that made my severe panic disorder worse and after that I now disassociate a lot too and have trouble knowing if I'm in reality while having a panic attack. And after what happened with B, his house and the smell (Cigs and booze) just reminded me what it was like living with my parents in that crack house looking trailer. It's like my brain won't let me let go of the past and move on. It's like I'm constantly stuck there still. And aside from dating, it's also super hard to meet people as friends where I live. I love my two best friends, one of which has been with me since we were basically fetuses and her parents and mine were friends, so her parents were also abusive drug addicts. It's nice to have someone so close and how we can relate to what we went through. We joke that we were traumatized by our parents, but also by each other's parents as well lol. Even though I'm grateful for them, you never know what's going to happen in the future and I don't want to be solely dependent on them and be able to make new friends, but I just can't. I feel so alone, and my friend I grew up with has been moved out a lot longer than me and has had time to heal, and I don't wanna keep dumping my mental problems on her because it's unfair to her. I feel like I'm just bringing her back to our past with me. When I moved out, I completely cut ties with my father, I don't even like calling him that, as he was the first person to SA me and he is, in general, and evil person. I try to think that evil people don't exist, but then I think of him and I realize they do. My mom though, is a good person when she isn't on anything. Recently though, I blocked her and haven't talked to her in over a month because she OD again on xans and amphetamines. I kind of realized recently that she is almost as bad as my father, even though I never wanted to admit that to myself. Because when I was younger, I admitted to her that he had SAed me and she kept pressuring me to tell her what happened, like, IN DETAIL. I told her no because I didn't want to relive it and think about it, even now I have a lot of repressed memories. And because I wouldn't tell her EXACTLY what happened, she doesn't believe. I think she does, deep down, but she doesn't want it to be real. And after her OD last month, she tried telling me she didn't and that it was just her BLOOD PRESSURE. LIKE OH MY GOD BITCH, WHY DO YOU LIE? She must think I'm stupid or something. Before I blocked her, I cussed her out over text and said something like "Who do you think was the first person at the hospital? Not grandma, not your husband, ME. I've always been there for you first. Who do you think told me you had OD? The doctors when I first got there!" And she still denies it, even though when me and my friend got the hospital she was lying there naked (they had to cut her clothes off to save her) with a breathing tube stuck down her throat. I've tried helping her my whole life but apparently she doesn't want help. So now I've gotten tired of her BS and I blocked her and now my grandma is pressuring me to talking to her, luckily though, my grandpa went through something similar as a kid and understands how it is so he isn't guilt tripping me into talking with her. I'm just tired of having to put into traumatic situations. My mental health just keeps getting worse. Somehow, trauma always finds me and nowadays, it seems my only friends are my demons. It used to not be like this, but now even when I'm with my two closest friends, I still feel lonely. Like they are reminding me that when I leave my friends, I'm alone again. Anyway, I know this probably isn't the right subreddit for this, but I kind of just started ranting, sorry for that.
Also, to clear some things up, no I don't use drugs, not anymore. I've never really been an addict at all in my life, somehow. I just did drugs because I wanted to escape when I was younger, and thankfully I never got addicted to any of them. Not like you can get addicted to LSD or shrooms anyway. The only thing I've got addicted to was cigarettes, which rn, is the least of my concerns. And as for weed, I used to be a major stoner but it started making my panic attacks worse so I stopped for a few years, cold turkey, and only recently started smoking it again. So, I'm not worried about weed and if anything, it's been helping now. Especially since I don't smoke it nearly as much as I used to. So, for those worried about me being or getting on drugs, don't worry I'm fine. I have made a clear boundary for myself to never do anything besides smoking my cigs and weed. Cause I've seen how drugs affect my parents and others I've known and I've sworn to myself that I won't become them. It also sucks though because I see psychedelics as something that can help a lot of people with trauma, and the first shrooms trip I ever did changed my life for the better. Now though, after my bad LSD trip, I don't know if I can every do them again. Maybe one day, but not for the foreseeable furture. Again, sorry for going on a rant. I'll probably post this to another subreddit and see if anyone can help. I'm not looking for therapy as I don't have the money or health insurance. Just looking for someone who can relate that has been able to move past similar things and find happiness. If you've read this far, thank you. Like seriously, from the bottom of my heart. It means a lot to me that someone would read about another person's problems and life experience. I hope whoever is reading this is having a great day / night wherever you are, and are living your best life. And for those reading that are going through a similar situation right now and can't get out, I promise you aren't alone. I haven't really gotten better, so I can't say things get better, but I can say it DOES get easier. All I can say is, you aren't alone in it. There are others, like me, who know your pain. Keep living, it'll be worth it. Even though I'm not doing my best and my mental problems are still with me, that doesn't mean it's all been bad. I've made a lot of amazing memories after I moved out. Keep going.

i’m so sorry if this is rlly long, im new to reddit so pls let me know if i need to shorten it and how to do so😭
hi so this is kinda hard to explain fully so i’ll try to explain the most important parts.
this maybe a TW to a lot of ppl so please be careful reading this i don’t want to upset anyone! ⚠️
so i’m 20(f) and i’ve been with this guy (also 20)for about over two years. we met in highschool when i was going through a breakup and he was one of my only closest friends. as with all abusive relationships, it started off so amazing, it was my first in person serious relationship so i was fully heard over heels. so much so that when red flags started popping up i ignored them. it started off with him telling me to drop my closest guy friends, etc… and i did because he used him having no friends at all to make me feel like i had to do the same. he also got me into smoking weed, which i have nothing against btw, it was just bad for me because i used it to cope with a lot of my depression. since i smoked weed more often, i started gaining weight which i had no problem with since i had gone through a severe case of anorexia about 2 years prior, but it did make me a little insecure. slowly he started insulting my weight, my body, and so many other things, until it led to the point where he got physical after around six or seven months of us dating. i remember his mom walking in on him about to hit me with a belt and she had been abused by his dad and my bf witnessed it all, so she was very angry at him and she took my side, and i’ll never forget what she told me; “this isn’t love. someone who loves you would never even think of putting their hands on you”. i still feel guilty for not listening to her. i wanted to believe in him so badly, so i stayed and things just got worse.
everyday there was a fight, either verbally or physically (most of the time both), and i just felt so horrible. so i eventually wanted to adopt a cat, something i always wanted to do since i was a little girl. i adopted a kitten and unfortunately my parents did not allow me to keep him at my house because of my dog, and i asked my bf if i could keep him at his house for the meantime while i can work with my parents on how he can live with me (the kitten). i am not exaggerating when i say that that little kitten was my soulmate in a little cat body. he seemed to understand me and love me in a way no other human did. and i loved him more than anything. i eventually went on vacation with my family for a few days and when i came back i could tell somehow things were different. he wouldn’t let me see my kitten and when i pretty much forced him to let me see him, he started crying and begging me not to leave him. i of course panicked and agreed because i thought something bad happened to my kitten, and he showed me him and told me that he had broken one of his paws. i was so horrified, i felt so much pain at seeing my little buddy in that state, so i freaked out and i demanded and begged that he let me take him to the vet or anywhere else that wasn’t his house so that he can get help. but he refused, and even threatened me if i took him, saying it was his cat and just making me feel like it was my fault that this happened and not his. my biggest regret and the reason i feel guilty to this day is that i stayed out of fear, instead of taking my kitten with me and never looking back. he ended up killing my kitten one night that i went home (i have always lived with my parents), and he didn’t tell me until i came over the next day. it was the most painful and traumatic day of my life, knowing that i never got to say goodbye to my kitten, knowing how much my kitten loved me and how much i loved him, and now he was gone when he shouldn’t have been. i screamed and cried so much, and his (my bfs) only response was to aggressively attack me so i would be quiet, and blaming me that if i had taken him he would still be alive.
i felt so guilty and ashamed that i didn’t tell anyone until a month later, when i started having an onset of ptsd because of everything that happened, i decided to tell my therapist. she was horrified, saying that it was one of the most horrific things she ever heard, and honestly if it wasn’t for her help, i would’ve never survived that pain and guilt of losing my kitten. i know now that i was in a heavy denial that my bf would do something so horrible, so i continued on seeing him, but things just got worse and worse. he did so many fucked up things to me, physically, mentally, sexually, in almost every single way possible that you can imagine. i used weed as my coping mechanism for a lot of it, and it was the only way i could numb all the pain he was causing me. i was so depressed, i never felt suicidal with intentions of offing myself, but i did just want to go to sleep and never wake up. the guilt of my kittens death, combined with the horrible abuse this person that was supposed to love me was doing, was so painful. eventually i told my family what happened, but all they did was basically say that i “let it happen” and that “i should’ve left the first time he put his hands on me”, and that “why didn’t i defend myself the way i defended myself against them (referring to my family)”. it hurt but i understand they weren’t educated on it, especially coming from a minority family.
eventually a few months passed, and i found out i was pregnant. it was honestly one of the best days of my life, even if i was young, i still was happy because there was this little life in me. and i knew from the second i found out that i couldn’t stay with him. i couldn’t allow my baby to have that same life that i was living, but i didn’t know how to get out. he didn’t want me to continue the pregnancy when i told him, and even threatened to leave me and not support me at all, but i was determined to stand by my decision; he wasn’t going to take away my choice of having my baby. i stopped smoking weed the day i found out, and he always tried to make me smoke, which i refused, which would get him so upset. but i was determined to take care of my lil baby from the start, he had taken away too much already from me. i told my parents and they were disappointed but quickly became supportive, and encouraged me to leave him for good. it took a few months of me seeing him occasionally, but things not really changing, for me to leave him for good.
i left a few weeks ago due to me realizing that the only thing i was doing by going over to his house was putting myself and my baby in danger. and after a very scary traumatizing incident, i realized while crying and praying to God, that the only true love i’ve ever felt and feel at this point, is for my baby. my bf was no longer my whole world, it was my baby, and as a mother to be, i was going to do everything to protect my baby. i rather go through the pain of breaking away from my bf then something bad happening to me or even to my baby. not only does my baby deserve a happy and safe life, but i realized that i do too. and in order for my baby to be happy, i have to be happy as well. so i made a promise to God and to myself and my baby, that i was never ever going to see my bf again. so that day after i left his house, i never went back. i don’t blame other moms in these situations, because it is so incredibly difficult to get out, i know, trust me i do. but for me what has helped me stay strong in my decision, is seeing how much happier me and my baby are already. i only have a few more months until i give birth, and i can already feel him kicking so hard now and being much more active. i truly believe it’s because he senses that we’re truly safe now, that our nightmare is over.
it’s been really hard i’m not going to lie, i cry sometimes and miss the person i fell in love with, but my faith in God and my baby have helped me a lot, as well as my family! that person i fell in love with, left a long time ago, and was never truly there. i know that i’m doing the right decision for me and my baby, to be safe and to have a happy life together. i know i can be both mommy and daddy to him, and most importantly i’ll teach him that he has God as his father too, which is much much better than having a pos father tbh.
going back to the title of my post though, i realized in these recent days that i know it’s time to go no contact completely. i haven’t seen him at all which i know is good, but i know to fully move on i have to cut off all communication with him. i think he can sense i’m breaking away from him, because yesterday he begged me to come over, saying all the things he used to say before, like that he “wants to hold me”, he wants to get our favorite drink together and food, that he wants to feel our baby kick, which honestly made it so hard to say no but i stood by my decision as painful as it was 🫠i told him i will not see him because i know things are going to remain the same and i’m doing what’s best for my baby and for me. and that as much as i still have love for him and miss him, i will not put myself or my baby in danger any longer. he proved my point after i said that, because he basically said so many horrible things to me, including that i was a “dumb overweight bitch”, “fuck you”, and he got mad that i saved a video of MY kitten that HE killed, saying that “fuck you for saving a video of me and my boy”, and a bunch of other hurtful stuff. it was honestly so disgusting and it made me glad i stuck by my decision to not ever see him again. i left him on read so he spam called me and i only answered once to tell him to leave me alone, but he basically only called me to say “i rather spend money on drugs and alcohol than you and that fucking baby🥲”. i’m not going to lie and act like it didn’t hurt, it really did. it really really did. but it also strangely gives me strength and makes me feel reassured that i made the best decision ever by leaving, not only for myself but for most importantly my baby. i don’t need him in my life anymore, all i need is my baby, God, and my family.
ever since then i want to send him a message that i want to breakup with him for good and basically go no contact from there. it sounds stupid, but i’m still scared to do so, i’m scared i’ll regret it in a way, even though i know for certain i won’t. i also remember the “good times” and it makes me sad and feel guilty for “giving up on him” even tho i know he doesn’t deserve me at all🫠. i guess that’s the abused part of me being scared still. i know i’ve taken an important big step by cutting off physical contact, but i know i can’t keep talking to him because he’ll only find other ways to torment me and make me feel bad even from far away. i guess i just wanted to ask for reassurance that i’m doing the right thing? idk🥲 sometimes it feels like i’m not strong enough, but my baby always reminds me with his kicks (lol) of why i’m doing all of this, which is for him!! a mothers love is truly so strong, i never really knew that until now. i would do anything to protect my baby. the only thing that has kept me happy and strong enough to continue is him! :’) and i also want to cut off contact for good because i want to enjoy the last months of my pregnancy in peace lol, and once he’s born soon i def do not need my bf stressing me out nor do i want him to. i also do not want him to be apart of my baby’s life once he’s born, i made sure to collect evidence just in case he ever wants to ask for visitation rights, cuz there is NO WAY in hell i will ever allow him to be near my baby let alone be alone with him ever. it’s sad but it’s the reality of his actions, it’s my job to protect my baby first. i’m lucky to have my family’s financial support as well while i finish up college, so i def do not care if he threatens me with not paying child support. i just want him out of our lives for good.
so yeah im just looking for reassurance that im doing the right thing and any advice if anyone has some! 🥹🫶i just want to be a good mommy to my baby and i hope i’m doing just that already 🥲❤️‍🩹i haven’t really told many people about my story out of fear of judgment, so it’s really a big step for me to share, even if it’s anonymous in a way. im just focusing on trusting God and myself, and im so excited to meet my baby soon! 🥹and to do better in college since i’ve been slacking ever since i started due to all the trauma and problems my bf put me through. i’m excited in general, to get my life back and to start a new chapter with my little one! 🥹🥲🫶 i got in contact with my old friends which has been nice, i know i should try to socialize more so i won’t feel as depressed. i also am looking for a new therapist (i stopped going to my old one a few months ago due to it being out of pocket😭), which i’ve been procrastinating but i know it’s important to help me heal from my trauma and to help me with my ocd (which has gotten worse tbh and it makes me more anxious about my baby🥲 even tho i know he’s okay i’m just really paranoid always). i am sad, but not as sad as i was when i was with him. and while i don’t really want to find a partner in the future because my priority is my baby, i do hope i’ll one day find someone who can love me as i deserve. it feels impossible though, but i know that might just be because of all the effects of his abuse…
i hope even if you don’t have advice for me or anything to say (which is totally fine!) i hope people reading this can find comfort that all bad moments come to an end, and that you have the power to leave, as hard as it is ❤️‍🩹even if it doesn’t seem like it, i promise you will get through it. i’m still not over it completely, i def have a long way to go, but i know it’ll all be worth it, and tbh it already is worth it!
thank you for taking the time to read this, i send all my love and good vibes to all of you warriors! <3 :’)

Over the course of my 4 year marriage to my partner, I have arrived at the position that I was abused, manipulated, and functionally enslaved to a mentally ill partner.
In simplest form, the progression is apparently observable. She was diagnosed with cancer in October of 2019 while we were engaged. Due to the diagnosis, we moved up our actual marriage date (our wedding was still set for mid-April) to December 1, 2019. Her surgery was December 13, 2019. In my compassion for her, I agreed to move our wedding date up to offset her anxiety around who would be responsible for her if things went south with her surgical treatment.
Our first month of marriage was straightforward; she was on pain meds recovering from surgery, so the main engagement that occurred was me walking her up and down the hospital hallway as she recovered and trying to meet her base physical needs of hygiene, food, and presence. We stayed in the hospital for 2-3 weeks (with recurring hospital visits for complications).
Quickly after we figured out our marital living situation in her small 3-bed apartment with 2 roommates, our relationship devolved. Specifically, she was irritable because of the pain she was in, causing her to lash out at me with regular frequency for small things. If I didn’t put clothes away in the right place, didn’t anticipate her needs (without her communicating them), or ate the wrong food in front of her she would shout at me and decry me for my thoughtlessness.
These small, critical engagements were wounding and created a distance between us – and there was no upside. She was never kind, never paid mind to needs I might have, and started down a path of cultivating a root of bitterness in her soul. She quickly revealed herself to be venomous, hateful, and vindictive when she felt like she was wronged — and any observation of concern about our marriage resulted me in being accused of being mean or insensitive, even if I spent hours or days calculating the best way to share my concern (and I have a master’s degree in communication where I focused in studying disagreement — I know how to carefully package concerns).
During this time, I worked hard to provide for us, foreseeing a significant time period where I would have to be primary financial provider and caregiver. I increased my income each year we were married by around 25%, finishing our marriage at >$80,000 in yearly income, compared to starting our marriage at a modest $42,000 salary (including dramatically improving our healthcare). Frankly, I increased my income to provide for us in spite of the lack of support at home.
But to be clear: I don’t think it would have been particularly difficult to provide financially if I had an ounce of support at home.
However, the relentless criticism and expectation of mind-reading continued through the years. I rationalized this abuse for the first year of our marriage because of all the excuses to be cruel, she had a good one – she had cancer. I hung onto a hope that it would stop. Contrary to my hope, as the years went on – and our expenses climbed – and I continued to work myself to the bone – she continued to relentlessly critique and even started being more emotionally demanding, expecting me to take responsibility for her inability to cope with her emotions – I was drowning. She was asking too much of me. There was no deliverance from her abuse.
I was exhausted. In the peak of the abuse I endured at her hand, I was working multiple jobs, sleeping 10+ hours a night and napping frequently during the day around meetings and work, then coping with alcohol to numb myself to the abusive dynamic and fall asleep with no support from her. The only time I could approach her sexually was when I was intoxicated, with inhibitions lowered. The only time I could have a conversation with her was with a counselor in the room. Without something to mitigate opportunity for her to be cruel to me, either a mediator or self-medication, I was scared.
I lived at home in a constant state of alert and cognitive fatigue. No matter how I tried to make sense of my home life, I couldn’t. When she looked at or touched me, I would recoil in fear, anticipating some sort of incisive critique or demand expressed. Then she would criticize me for not responding warmly to her, exacerbating the cycle.
I couldn’t meet her needs – I was utterly exhausted. When I would tell her of the exhaustion I experienced in marital counseling, her responses were typically something along the lines of not believing me, denying what I was saying was true, or calling my exhaustion an ‘excuse’. I could interact happily with my friends… why not her?
I did not deny her demands were legitimate; rather, I expressed my inability to meet them because of how fatigued I was. I said ‘I can’t’ so many times. I realize her demands were small; affection, saying ‘i love you’, complimenting her. But it’s disorienting to be consistently berated and belittled by a person and then asked to compliment them and tell them you love them.
The push and pull of abuse is exhausting to a person who is not mentally because it does not make sense.
Further, in counseling I realized that I have forgotten that I have needs. I have lost the tools to even evaluate what my needs might be because, implicitly and explicitly in my marriage, I was told my needs don’t matter.
My marriage made no sense; I was obviously drowning, exhausted with the demands our life imposed on me. I was doing everything I could to get straight. I was in individual therapy, marital counseling, pastoral counseling, trying different antidepressants (4 in total – all with no effect), changing eating habits, trying to reduce my drinking, getting medical tests to see if I had health issues causing my fatigue, and being vulnerable in my friendships in an attempt to invite others in to process and move forward and figure out my marriage. I desperately shared everything I could about my marriage, hoping someone else would crack the code where I couldn’t.
None of my efforts worked. I could not get out of the exhausted state I was in. It’s worth noting here that within weeks of separating I almost completely cut out alcohol, got into a regular sleep schedule, was waking up at 6-7am every day and reading multiple hours (which I couldn’t do in marriage due to cognitive fatigue/distraction), and experienced a resurgence of energy. I have felt the duress I was under lift and lift and lift and the weeks and months have went on.
In retrospect, I was experiencing cognitive fatigue because I was taking the demands my wife was placing on me seriously, but no matter what I did I could not make sense of them. How could she not see that I was doing everything I could to make ends meet – the ends which she was imposing on me? I did not have additional energy left. She would ask me ‘Do you love me?’ and I didn’t know how to respond. How is my work not at least some symbol of love? My dream was to be a poor professor, which she knew – instead I was grinding myself to the bone, working in digital marketing with multiple freelance projects, picking up a bartending gig and a teaching gig on top of full-time employment.
The last straw was when she accused me of abuse. I took that accusation seriously, and weighed it against my experience. ‘Am I an abuser?’ I asked myself. I sorted through my behavior and how I treated her. I came to the conclusion that I may be a poor husband in serious ways; but I am not an abuser. And the abuse question opened the door to the question… ‘I may not be an abuser… but is there abuse in our marriage?’ And the answer quickly became ‘Yes.’
When we were married, I understood that she wasn’t going to work much for a while. However, she worked the bare minimum she could for 4 years, earning at most in a single year $18,000. As the years went on and my income climbed, our debt continued to climb as well. She was still contributing the same, yet spending frivolously on useless knick knacks for our home and a cat. As I packed up our home to sell, the majority of items were dozens of boxes of useless junk she’d accumulated.
She lived a life of mania around finances. We would go to marital counseling and she would regularly express, ‘I would rather be poor and happy than rich and sad’. We were poor and sad. Sure, my income was the highest it’d ever been – but we were still drowning, with debts climbing. At the end of our marriage, we’d accumulated about $20,000 in consumer debt between credit cards and personal loans.
It was traumatizing (and abusive) to go to counseling and be told by my partner she would ‘rather be poor and happy and than rich and sad’ when the factual scenario we were living was neither. She actively denied reality – both my lived experience and the reality of our finances – at my expense. It was killing me, trying to make sense of what we were going through but being unable to make sense of what I was being told and what I was experiencing.
Throughout this time, it is worth adding that she also leveraged my spiritual leadership to ‘set me straight’. I was in a conservative Evangelical space, believing that men are the ultimate provider in a family unit and primarily responsible for the status of the marriage. Because I was not doing what she wanted me to (lavishing her with affection), I was muscled into multiple groups and meetings where pastoral care intervened to restore our marriage. In the moment, I submitted to my pastoral care because of my trust for them and my faith in God. Now, I believe this dynamic was abusive; my pastoral care did not care in any sense for my soul; they only cared about fixing my marriage. No questions around ‘why’ my marriage was so bad were asked; only what was going on and how it could be fixed. I relish the thought of my pastoral care being held accountable for the abuse they exercised upon me during this time on judgment day, albeit through a shaken faith in a God that would enable this dynamic.
With my spiritual community, I shared that I felt like she was my tormentor; that she it felt as if I were on the ground due to exhaustion, and she was standing on my throat, telling me to ‘get up’ and ‘tell me you love me’; that our metaphorical life was a boat, sinking, and I was desperately bailing out water. All the while, she stood at the other end of the boat, desperately bailing water in and looking at me like I was a maniac.
And yet, because there was no adultery, there was no category for divorce. We had sworn an oath before God and were required to fix this.
As I reflect upon my marriage (and the ongoing divorce proceedings), a few things are clear.
She is an abuser. I don’t think she intends to be, but impact matters. She is mentally ill and unable to reckon with basic reality.
She is a manipulator. She manipulated my spiritual community against me. I was viewed as someone to be corrected while begging for help from my trusted friends and pastoral care, whom I now regret being vulnerable with due to their abuse and denial of my reality because I didn’t fit neatly into their thin theological categories.
She is an enslaver. In divorce proceedings, she is doing everything she can to get every dollar from me, leveraging student loans I did not co-sign, my continually increasing income due to my hard work, and denying every claim of dissipated assets she can.
It is truly a mind-breaking experience to see your compassion leveraged against you for money. I had to sit under an attorney proclaiming to a judge that, since I consented to move up our marriage date before her cancer surgery, ‘I knew what I was getting into’. That she is entitled to large sums of money (that do not exist; we never had more than $3000 in our bank account during marriage) due to that decision.
Even apart from the abuse, I did not know what I was getting into. Including the abuse, I am full of remorse for having invited such an evil, hateful person into my life.
This experience has been the most challenging to my faith. As I endured abuse from her, I trusted God in a few ways. That the compassion I showed would maybe be rewarded – or, at least not punished. That my spiritual community wanted what was best for me. That God was not a punitive, hateful God (like my partner). I do not believe this trust was well placed, but am open to shortcomings in my views here.
I struggle to consent to a God that allowed my experience to occur. I’m open and processing in some kind of faith, but I really don’t know what it looks like to find a place to put this pain and betrayal that I’m experiencing.
I am a survivor of abuse, and the abuse I endured was mind-shattering. I sacrificed everything to support a partner diagnosed with serious bodily illness, which drove her to hate me and deny my lived experience because she could not reconcile it with the hatefulness she cultivated over our marriage, choosing bitterness over any positivity for four years, poisoning my well-being in the process.
What I envisioned to be the most compassionate moment of my life — marrying a person with cancer and promising to support and love them — has become nothing but a symbol of pain and remorse. I envisioned a life where my partner and I would fight against the terror of cancer; instead she hopped to the other side, choosing her ongoing health issues as the ally and myself as the enemy.
It took me 4 years to realize it. And as she drags me through court to leverage every dollar out of me I can, my only regret is that I didn’t leave my abuser to her own devices sooner; self-pity, hatefulness, and a sheer disregard toward taking responsibility for anything.
I am grateful but drowning. As we are negotiating settlement, the end is near, and my abuser will soon be unable to execute any influence in my life.

Hello, this is my first time posting so I am very sorry if this formatted weird. I (22) have an older half-brother I considered close when we were younger and before he started getting into gang activities and drugs. He put a strain between my parents that was already there, the tension was high and I was forced in the middle. It fucked me up a good portion of my childhood and it made me resent him for putting us through that. I saw him ODing in my bathroom as a child. He put my mom through unimaginable stress, and the strain between them two ruined my relationship with my mom. I felt like I was put in the middle of their arguements, since he wasn't well-liked among my family. He had stolen hundreds of dollars worth of my dad's things, has had his kids steal from my mom, he has even stolen my things. My mom this entire time is the only one that puts up with him and lets him in the house. Eventually my dad forces me to not let him inside, since he had a habit of knocking on our window at 2-3am asking to be let in, doped up on drugs. If I didn't let him in, my mom would get onto me. If I did, my dad would get onto me. It was an almost everyday thing and it made me very depressed as a child. I felt like no matter what I chose I will ruin the relationship with my family. That's what I felt like up until he went to prison. I felt like I needed to be a support for him because I loved him so much and sympathized with him, but now that I am grown I have realized that he is a selfish person who made shitty decisions. He didn't care about how it made others feel.
This is just a portion of the shit he has done. He was released early on parole two days ago and marked our house as his host house. Nobody in the household was notified and nobody had a chance to get ready for this. I live with my mom, dad, and younger brother. Mind you I was relieved that he was incarcerated and maybe the 5 years would teach him to be better. Now that he is here, he is falling into the same habits of lying. The first day he left out at night and came back at 3am to bang on my window. He found our alcohol and began to drink shot after shot, eventually getting so drunk he started acting very weird and pretty much killed the vibes. He would ask us if we forgave him for what he has done, and he did not like that we had said "Not yet." I feel like forgiveness is earned, and during his incarceration he was still doing bad things. Owing people money, doing drugs, getting into shit. Now that he is out he thinks the world should feel bad but I am having a very hard time sympathizing with him. Our first deep conversation was last night and he had told us if we couldn't forgive him, then what does that even make us? It was so out of pocket that I took the conversation over. I teared up because it was a very heavy subject for me and he told me to stop crying, like it was annoying him and when I did, I told him straight up how it was and how he was making it something it wasn't. He said we were making him out to be bad, and I said no, what you asked was not appropiate and the funniest part is that when I didn't give him the chance to make the conversation about him, he pretty much said this conversation was over and pretended it never was brought up, even tried to be friendly with us and bring up old memories of us. It was fucking awful. For a whole day straight pretended to not know what was wrong, and then talked to my dad about it. Which I aslo found out he pretty much changed the narrative of his story to make it seem like he didn't say anything remotely wrong. My dad says I should feel bad for him but I realistically do not know what I should be doing. My younger brother and him don't even talk now, the energy changed drastically after that day and I again feel like I'm in the middle of this shit again. I'm in the middle of my family's shit all the time and it makes me miserable. I have an almost non-existent emotional relationship with my dad, and even less with my mom. I cannot rely on them to talk to. It's uncommon in my household to speak about your feelings, but now that my brother is bothering everyone in the household it's up to me to figure things out. It is making my head spin. I told him I understand where he is coming from with this and that jail has fucked him up in some ways. I sympathize with him in the way I would when I think of inmates re-establishing normal lives after prison, which is hard enough as it is for some. I want to be understanding of that aspect and not worry too much about his past, since it's done. I really think he is going too fast and wants us to forgive him for everything that he has done to us, but our answer made me see a side of him I quickly recognized. He uses fancy words and changes up his story, he lies all the time even about the most mundane shit it is crazy. He likes to push that he has done his time, and the life made him this way. I don't want to forgive him yet, I am pissed at how stupid he is. He's a liar and a manipulator, acting like the world owes him forgiveness just because he did his time. He went to jail because he comitted a crime. During a time where his family gave him the utmost support and he pretty much shat in their mouths. I don't know what I need to do, or what I should do, or feel, or how to handle all of this. This is on top of so much shit I'm dealing with and it couldn't have possibly been a worser time. It's affecting me and my family, and my mom through this whole ordeal has kept ALL of us, including my older brother, not knowing of anything. I don't have anyone to talk to or tell these things to, a therapist is booked for months and I don't have a lot of time to be spending waiting. I just want to feel okay in my own home and ever since I moved back in with my parents in May last year it has been awful. I feel like my family is looking at me to find a way to fix this but I don't know what to do or if I even want to deal with this family's shit. I've always felt like the scapegoat of my family.
****for short, my brother and i have a bad relationship and he moved into our dysfunctional household and its stressing everyone out, and im p much in the middle

My 28M ex is diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. Diagnosed by a previous psychiatrist several years ago. Im also a physician. He does “not like psychiatrists or medication”. Everything about him is pretty textbook. The therapist he currently “sees” over zoom is just for intermittent moments of feeling bad and she tells him she notices he falls into the depression when he’s off from work. (He’d tell me when he was done with a session and I’d be like that’s all you got from that?”) He sees a civilian therapist and not the former psychiatrist because he “doesn’t want to lose his military job or have anything on record.” He’d say “idk if she’s a good therapist or not but what’s important is I trust her.”
I tried so hard to be present for him. To be a sounding board. To comfort him. There were times he’d say “you’re the only person who could deal with me.” We broke up right before his 3 month deployment. I still care. It hurts.
I got pretty attached. It was a 6 month relationship. My ex was worshipping the ground I walked on one day, I’m not sure you’re the one for me the next day. I hate the army and my job one day, I’m staying in to do special forces another day. Making completely random purchases off of Amazon another day. Being so irritable it takes over his whole day another day. “I hate myself I want to kill myself”. Maniacally planning things on a piece of paper another day. Having grandiose business ideas not rooted in reality of how he’ll make an impact on the world another day. Throwing my fork across a restaurant another day because he didn’t like my taking 1/2inch bacon off his plate because it triggered childhood trauma of his dad stealing food off his plate and getting in fights… coming back to my room after 15 beers begging me to accept him as he was another day, making me hide his vape from him because he couldn’t control his addiction impulses and needing a “dopamine hit” another day, “everything feels so natural and organic with you I can be myself with you one day”, “I want to feel like I’m on a rocket ship in my relationship and be in puppy love and on top of the world and you’re not giving me that” another day, “you’re my favorite person” the next day, not being able to get off the couch and function during vacation from work another day, planning my future with him 10 years down the road on printed out calendar paper another day. “I don’t want to eat spaghetti for dinner and talk about my day in the future that sounds awful.” “I care about you but I’m emotionally detached and not attracted to you as I should be and I can’t explain why but I can’t get passed this feeling. I don’t know why my brain is working this way” “I’m an emotional person this is just the way I am!” “I feel like I’m inherently a bad person and so is my dad and his dad etc and that’s why I don’t want to have kids.” he’d complain about constant anxiety to the point I said do you think you should be medicated? He responded with do you think I should be? He became obsessed with his new commander who had to take leave due to suicidal ideation. He’s obsessed with the concept of mental health itself but has no insight into his own behavior and not receiving the tx he should be.
He mirrored me about being against drug use and alcohol in excess. That’s one of the first questions I ask when I first start dating someone. It’s a deal breaker for me.
He told me within the first week of talking that he swallowed a bottle of narcotics after a bad breakup. I was going to stop talking to him there, politely end FaceTiming (why are you telling me this within the first week of talking to someone anyway?!) he called me back and said “I don’t want to scare you off. That’s not who I am anymore. I just want to be honest about all the parts of myself.” I thought that was romantic.
My dad’s an addiction medicine doc. That amongst my own lifestyle, I wouldn’t ever want to get into a relationship with someone who used drugs or was addicted to drugs.
The cracks started showing through when he expressed interest in doing steroids. He’s a military officer and it’s a DOD banned substance amongst it being terrible for you.
“My thoughts and feelings revolve around what yours are.” “I’m not scared of the effects of steroid use itself, idk why. All the other guys are doing it” to…”I’d never use cigarettes” turned into “I needed a hit of dopamine in the field I smoked a couple”. Which turned into coming home after drinking 13 beers in 1.5 hours and once again needing to hit his vape for a “dopamine hit” then making me hide it from him. Being against zyn patches turned into him…very venomously saying before he discarded me “I used to do them all the fucking time”
I remember when he started crying about his nicotine addiction and he asked me to hide his vape from him I was like wtf am I doing…why am I participating in this. He has substance abuse issues and paraded around with a mask as if he didn’t.
And in between all of this there enjoyable seemingly stable moments where I felt I could exhale. And not long after these moments, he’d flip again.
I do logically understand that this behavior gets worse with time and could’ve ended up destroying my life, my medical career with his dependency on me, especially when unregulated and without proper help or treatment.
Part of what hurts is I feel like I couldn’t even be seen or participate in a relationship based off what was going on in his head. And it hurts me that I could not get through to him. That he could not understand logic or see that he was unwell and I couldn’t intervene. And to be there for him through these episodes and ultimately being discarded without any reflection of my value because he wants the next “dopamine hit” or wants to feel high in the sky like a “rocketship!”

My 28M ex is diagnosed with BPD. Diagnosed by a previous psychiatrist several years ago. Im also a physician. He does “not like psychiatrists or medication”. Everything about him is pretty textbook. The therapist he currently “sees” over zoom is just for intermittent moments of feeling bad and she tells him she notices he falls into the depression when he’s off from work. (He’d tell me when he was done with a session and I’d be like that’s all you got from that?”) He sees a civilian therapist and not the former psychiatrist because he “doesn’t want to lose his military job or have anything on record.” He’d say “idk if she’s a good therapist or not but what’s important is I trust her.”
I tried so hard to be present for him. To be a sounding board. To comfort him. There were times he’d say “you’re the only person who could deal with me.” We broke up right before his 3 month deployment. I still care. It hurts.
I got pretty attached. It was a 6 month relationship. My ex was worshipping the ground I walked on one day, I’m not sure you’re the one for me the next day. I hate the army and my job one day, I’m staying in to do special forces another day. Making completely random purchases off of Amazon another day. Being so irritable it takes over his whole day another day. “I hate myself I want to kill myself”. Maniacally planning things on a piece of paper another day. Having grandiose business ideas not rooted in reality of how he’ll make an impact on the world another day. Throwing my fork across a restaurant another day because he didn’t like my taking 1/2inch bacon off his plate because it triggered childhood trauma of his dad stealing food off his plate and getting in fights… coming back to my room after 15 beers begging me to accept him as he was another day, making me hide his vape from him because he couldn’t control his addiction impulses and needing a “dopamine hit” another day, “everything feels so natural and organic with you I can be myself with you one day”, “I want to feel like I’m on a rocket ship in my relationship and be in puppy love and on top of the world and you’re not giving me that” another day, “you’re my favorite person” the next day, not being able to get off the couch and function during vacation from work another day, planning my future with him 10 years down the road on printed out calendar paper another day. “I don’t want to eat spaghetti for dinner and talk about my day in the future that sounds awful.” “I care about you but I’m emotionally detached and not attracted to you as I should be and I can’t explain why but I can’t get passed this feeling. I don’t know why my brain is working this way” “I’m an emotional person this is just the way I am!” “I feel like I’m inherently a bad person and so is my dad and his dad etc and that’s why I don’t want to have kids.” he’d complain about constant anxiety to the point I said do you think you should be medicated? He responded with do you think I should be? He became obsessed with his new commander who had to take leave due to suicidal ideation. He’s obsessed with the concept of mental health itself but has no insight into his own behavior and not receiving the tx he should be.
He mirrored me about being against drug use and alcohol in excess. That’s one of the first questions I ask when I first start dating someone. It’s a deal breaker for me.
He told me within the first week of talking that he swallowed a bottle of narcotics after a bad breakup. I was going to stop talking to him there, politely end FaceTiming (why are you telling me this within the first week of talking to someone anyway?!) he called me back and said “I don’t want to scare you off. That’s not who I am anymore. I just want to be honest about all the parts of myself.” I thought that was romantic.
My dad’s an addiction medicine doc. That amongst my own lifestyle, I wouldn’t ever want to get into a relationship with someone who used drugs or was addicted to drugs.
The cracks started showing through when he expressed interest in doing steroids. He’s a military officer and it’s a DOD banned substance amongst it being terrible for you.
“My thoughts and feelings revolve around what yours are.” “I’m not scared of the effects of steroid use itself, idk why. All the other guys are doing it” to…”I’d never use cigarettes” turned into “I needed a hit of dopamine in the field I smoked a couple”. Which turned into coming home after drinking 13 beers in 1.5 hours and once again needing to hit his vape for a “dopamine hit” then making me hide it from him. Being against zyn patches turned into him…very venomously saying before he discarded me “I used to do them all the fucking time”
I remember when he started crying about his nicotine addiction and he asked me to hide his vape from him I was like wtf am I doing…why am I participating in this. He has substance abuse issues and paraded around with a mask as if he didn’t.
And in between all of this there enjoyable seemingly stable moments where I felt I could exhale. And not long after these moments, he’d flip again.
I do logically understand that this behavior gets worse with time and could’ve ended up destroying my life, my medical career with his dependency on me, especially when unregulated and without proper help or treatment.
Part of what hurts is I feel like I couldn’t even be seen or participate in a relationship based off what was going on in his head. And it hurts me that I could not get through to him. That he could not understand logic or see that he was unwell and I couldn’t intervene. And to be there for him through these episodes and ultimately being discarded without any reflection of my value because he wants the next “dopamine hit” or wants to feel high in the sky like a “rocketship!”

Use this thread to promote yourself and/or your work!
(Descriptions of fictional crimes investigated by the story's main Character Max.)
Detective's Fate
It's august of 2008.....
Max is a detective living in Chicago He checks his pistol and puts on his police badge as he walks out his front door.
He has been searching for a serial killer known as the Caller for years and always been one step behind due to the red tape.....
More importantly the chief's lazy attitude towards getting search warrants and actions approved by the courts for raids. Twice Max had good intel on the suspect's locations and photo evidence showing him at the sites.
The department needs more vigilant, caring officers and leaders but no one steps up to do it, instead they just complain about the slow progress and officers. And hinder investigations.
Now Max has decided that it might be time to stop playing by the rules and catch this scumbag.... .... ....
Starting his car Max sets his GPS to the address that "The Caller" was last seen and pulls out of his driveway as the 50 miles of directions pop up.
The killer's nickname being for his signature of calling in as he is committing the crime.
As he drives he remembers his first case, five years ago now..... ..... .....
A woman, Joane Taylor, was found dead in an alleyway after going out for the night. She showed no signs of struggle leading the police to believe she had drank to much and expired from alcohol poisoning.... ...
The death was written off as a "party gone wrong".... That is until several more were found and the coroner decided on a whim to test for other substances.
Once it came out that the deaths were possible murders...
The calls started coming in, almost like the suspect wanted credit before revealing himself....
Then ways of the deaths began changing as the Serial Killer explored his twisted desires searching for his preferred method.
The last case being a young woman found stuffed in a dumpster after the killer apparently got scared off.... Max will never forget it.... .... ....
The GPS finishes and the car beeps its final direction, taking an exit off the highway. Ramps out here are always confusing... Which is funny since he has driven this one for five years now...
The chief says he should sit this one out but he can't... The latest victim 3 months ago.
Marie Spelner, a waitress out on her smoke break talking to her spouse on the phone.
Survived by her husband, no children or living relatives. ....
Max Spelner turns into the driveway of the house he was directed to... Stepping out of the car he walks up and knocks on the door. Looking at the house he knows the family must be doing well if they live here.... Raising his hand to knock again he hears a scream from inside....
A second later the door is answered by a middle aged butler holding a tray with wine glasses on it... "Hello Sir, I'm sorry but this house does not wish to partake in any offers at this time..."
Max calmly says. "I'm not selling anything."
The butler looks confused for a moment before his eyes dart over Max's shoulder seeing his unmarked cruiser and he nods.
Looking past the butler Max sees that a woman is cleaning up after their dog.
"Have you seen this man?" Says Max holds up a picture of the one suspected of being the killer.
The butler gives it a once over before replying. "I'm sorry sir, no I have not." His tone sounds like he is lying... ....
"Are you sure?" The detective asks.
"I would not lie about something like that, sir." He states, his eyes not meeting Max's.
The woman calls from inside "Fletcher, who are you talking too?"
"Some man asking about a killer" he calls back.
"The killer is an inside job!" The woman quickly states.
"What?!" Max says.
"The Killer, it's an inside job." She says again, louder this time. In the same Max also hears a child begin to cry in another room.
"We should start from the beginning, it will be easier to explain trust me." The woman says.
'She seems to know what is going on....
"How do I know your story holds water?" He asks out loud.
"Oh I wouldn't lie. I have been following the case myself and it seems like an inside job to me." She states, somehow sounding hurt.
"Is there anyone else in the house besides you two and the baby?" He asks noticing the baby isn't crying anymore.
"Just Fletcher and I live here, the baby is my cousins but he just stays the night sometimes." She replies.
Max draws his gun and enters the house upon reasonable suspicion of an emergency in progress or suspect on the premisses as the man seems to be deceiving.
While the woman still seems unconcerned that the child is now silent.
He pushes past the butler and rushes towards the area he heard the crying. passes the entryway, the dinning room, and a kitchen before finally finding a child in a playpen.
"There there..." He says in a sing song voice picking up the child. "I'm officer Max, do you know where your mommy is?"
The child just cries louder.
Then he sees the man from the photo walk out of the bathroom, upon seeing him he bolts for the door and Max sets the child down gently then gives chase.
He runs through the house, following the man as he can hear the woman screaming at him to stop but he doesn't."
"Stop or I'll shoot." The man doesn't even break stride.
Instead he runs out of the front door and jumps into his car.
Furious that the man might escape he fires at the car as it drives away.
The back window shatters and he hopes he got his tire, but he doesn't wait to find out as he runs to his car and initiates a pursuit....
He flips on his concealed lights in his cruiser as he reverses down the drive and into the street.
The suspects car is fast but he manages to keep up with it weaving in and out of traffic as people move over for the siren.
As they approach a red light there is heavy traffic in the intersection..... ....
The suspect slams on his brakes and Max's cruiser only just stops short of hitting it. Jumping out the Detective points his firearm at the vehicle running up beside seeing heavily tinted windows.
"Get out of the car and on the ground now!!" He shouts as he moves to the driver's side door.
After seeing no response....
Max throws open the door and the driver is gone with the passenger side open.
He quickly runs to the other side catching the man trying to sneak off tackling him to the ground and then takes his arms putting them behind his back.
Max grabs his radio and calls it in as the man cries.
As he is waiting he hears a noise that sounds like static.....
"Wrong guy moron.. Did you ever stop to think I wanted you close for this one. That I planned everything...Even framing the pothead..... I almost lost interest until you pulled in the driveway... The attic is kinda cramped tho... I think I'll go carve some meat. Maybe graduate to other things to. I'm not sure yet. Lets see if you can catch me before......" A familiar voice says over the radio then cuts off... ...
Max looks at the man on the ground. "Why did you run from me?" He asks.
"Cause I have like 19 grams of marijuana in my pocket." He replies...
"Do you know how stupid that is?! I don't care about that I'm looking for a killer."
Before he can answer Max hears the woman from the house screaming for her life and a child's cries on his radio.
Then from below Max. "He's in the house, he's in the house! My mom and the baby!" The man on the ground says crying.
Max uncuffs him and runs to his car heading back to the house as he lays down rubber on the road... ... ...
As he approaches and pulls into the driveway he notices the front door is open.
"Hold on I'm coming!" Max screams jumping out of his cruiser...
He runs into the house finding the woman's body arriving too late. Moving over to her he checks for a pulse but she is gone, a large gash in her neck.
As he stands up he slips in a fluid but gains his balance and tries not to think about what it is....
He rushes to the room the baby was in finding the play pen empty. He leaves the room searching the rest of the house and still doesn't find the child.
"Where are you!!!" He calls out....
"This is the Callers first kidnapping and the media would eat up the fact I failed to stop the man." He thinks as he blames himself.
Sirens begin to blare in the distance as backup is about to arrive... ... ...
"There's a woman dead and a baby missing! The woman is in the dinning room straight ahead of the front door, Hurry!" He yells into his radio...
Looking over at the mother seeing a piece of paper on the floor.
He walks over to it seeing writing.
"So close... Looks like I'm a kidnapper now.... Good luck finding me.... And... I so enjoyed killing that sweet wife of yours. Might do it that way again. Not to the kid tho....later Max. Ps. This game is so fun.." It says.
"He was here..." Is all he can muster as the team enters.
"He was right in this house and I missed it because her son freaked over weed and ran..." He says as another officer speaks to him gently.
"Don't beat yourself up Detective, it's not your fault. He must have hid before you got her and left after you arrived." The words do little to comfort him "First day back on the job and the killer escaped taking a child..." He says as he walks away.
The chief arrives in his new lexus with a screeching of rubber as he lurches to a halt.
He quickly exits and leaves his door hanging open as he rushes into Max's face....
"I told you to stay away from this case MAX!!!!....(takes a breath)...
"If I catch any flak from my superiors, I won't suspend you.... That'd be to easy. Desk duty and an entry level demotion. The new guy will have a higher rank than you if things go my way.... Now get outta my sight...". "(Sighs)...
"This job is gonna be the death of me..." He says walking away from Max and towards the Coroner's van..... ..... .....
On the way home the detective stops by the store close to his house which is unlike him because he usually follows the same routine.
He nears the front door and he hears a kitchen timer ding loudly from behind him as his car explodes throwing him through the storefront windows as they are blown out..... .....
Alarms around the lot and others nearby create a cacophony of noise. His head pounding as his body aches, Max pushes himself up and collapses as the store manager runs over to him telling him not to move as he dials 911.... .... ....
Waking in the hospital Max recalls the feeling of the Shockwave as he flinches in phantom pain.
"Who woulda thought its like holding a ringing metal bat that hurts your hands but all over and way more intense." He thinks.
He suddenly feels tired and falls asleep.... .... .... ....
The next time he wakes, he sees a breaking news story that Jane Saltani is reporting on....
"Young toddler Accidently Shoots Serial killekidnapper ending his life and Alerting residents in the Area." The news anchor says.
Sighing to himself Max thinks about how crazy that is and laughs.
Tho he really wanted to bring the guy in. He closes his eyes to get some much needed sleep as his door opens.
Max looks up to see a man with a silenced pistol pointed at him.
"Hm. Now they think I'm dead. Funny how they just assume they got the right guy. Just like.... You did Detect... ....." Max hears but then hears no more as his end comes at just over the speed of sound....
The Caller leaves the hair of another intelligent convicted murderer that he obtained in a spot that's believable and quickly leaves.....
He disables the surveillance system and sends a virus out to any device that has received video data from the hospital.
Erasing and corrupting the systems. Leaving a master hackers finger prints on a glass from his home....
"Sorry, no witnesses." He says to the security guard as he fires... ..... ..... .... ....

Hi, I know some of you have been interested in Joost’s written stuff, so this is one of them. It’s a short story that Joost wrote for Boekenweek voor Jongeren (Book Week for Young People) in 2019. There’s more info about it here (in Dutch) https://www.vice.com/nl/article/qvgzpv/joost-klein-schreef-een-kort-verhaal-over-een-wilde-nacht-in-berlijn and there was also this promo video for it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wx7wxnpxps0. It's been translated from Dutch - maybe not the most perfect translation but it's readable. Original in Dutch here. Enjoy

"How come he suddenly has cash?" I looked at Gurb, but he avoided my gaze. Louis never had money and yet he was buying another round. Meanwhile, a Moby song was playing and nothing made sense. "If he has money for drinks, he can surely pay me back, right?"
Just a few hours ago, I was alone in Berlin. Now, ten hours later, I'm standing in some obscure techno club with my best friends. Loud rock music with drunken shouting. "Hey, Miss Murder, can I make beauty stay if I take my life?" I woke up that day with a mild hangover from the lonely yet people-filled night before. Perfect conditions for a 20-year-old dropout.
The Hard Rock Café was the most beautifully ugly place in Berlin. Gurb had driven for seven hours straight in his mother's car, but we didn't notice. An iconic black Mini Cooper. Your body leads your mind, the beat never stops, and you can conquer the world. Louis threw in another crazy dance move. We were happy.
"Do you want another drink, brother?" Gurb asked me, half shouting. An evening filled with rhetorical questions. He saw me dancing and already knew the answer.
Gurb always had money. Louis, on the other hand, never did. Louis was also the youngest of us three. He had just turned 18. I wouldn't call him a cunning fox. More like a jack-of-all-trades. Like the time he made a lot of money on a Wadden Island with a group of boys. They sold large blocks of hash.
"Crazy dude!" I shouted at him. He yelled something back.
"Do you remember back then?" Louis said.
"Back then? Back then? Yeah man, of course!" I had no idea what he meant. "Do you mean the party?"
"Do you mean the party, he says! This guy. When I look at you like this, it makes me happy. The exact same kid is here letting loose just like back in high school!"
We knew each other from secondary school. He joined when I was in the second grade. He was very intelligent. Too young, too much knowledge of the world. His mother is from Brazil. We often went to his mother's place to play on the Playstation Louis and I had bought together.
I lived everywhere at that time. In the crisis shelter where I stayed for a while, for example, I wasn't allowed to have a Playstation. So we set it up in an accessible place, near school. It was always fun with Louis. Going together to the Apple Store. Taking all kinds of photos with all the webcams, posting them on Hyves, and then leaving. Louis always knew how to cheer me up.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!" There was Gurb with five drinks in his hands. Gurb was wearing a blue checkered shirt. Two buttons undone. Hair slicked back. "You look good, brother!"
"You look fresh too! We all look fresh!" Gurb said enthusiastically. Louis was wearing a completely white outfit. We quickly bought this before going out. He also bleached his hair.
"You look like the Brazilian cousin of James Dean in these clothes," I said. Louis laughed. "Let me take a picture."
Suddenly, the DJ switched to some kind of techno. "Ah, here Berlin briefly takes off its mask." I was fine with it all. Louis was talking to a lady.
Voluptuous breasts, I thought to myself. He gave her one of his two drinks.
"He's with a girl and he's thinking with his dick," I said to Gurb. "Let him be, tonight Berlin is ours!"
The bass kept pounding. "I simply don't have the patience for the club," I said to Gurb. He looked surprised. Like a sweet dog, tilting his head. "I'm just waiting for tomorrow. Can't do my thing here. Don't have patience for the already known. I want adventure and I want it now!"
Gurb started laughing. "Patience is a virtue." Yes. Patience is all well and good, but I think it's a waste of my time. Gurb grabbed my shoulder.
"I think it's time for another beer."
Louis and I were walking through Leeuwarden a year ago when suddenly a red Ford Ka stopped in front of us. It was Gurb, casually driving around the city. He invited us into his car. We hopped in. Since that afternoon, the three of us were together. A few months later, Louis got a tattoo on his ribs in honor of our friendship. It was the name of our group chat. Braddar Force Indigo.
There were also days when Gurb would take me for a drive around Friesland. He reminded me how beautiful Friesland is. The world doesn't spin there. The newspapers I threw away in the Stiens forest in 2011 could still be lying in the same spot, so to speak.
Just before midnight, I found myself in line for the restroom. My eyes fell on a pair of striking shoes. Cigarette smoke invaded my nose for the fourth time. "Müssen Sie eine Zigarette haben?" a female voice spoke to me. I felt like Tom Hanks in the final scene of Angels & Demons, where the new pope first steps onto the balcony. The curtains opened. There I was, witnessing an important moment in history. I was just told how I was sent by God, but my ears didn't want to hear any of it. At least that's how I felt. My mouth was empty. I had no words left. That's when I knew for sure. Berlin might really be as crazy as literally everyone says.
Dark blond, silky hair. Was this real beauty then? She wouldn't look 40, but I think she was. A true woman. Beautiful in all her elegance. I always joked about being interested in older women, but tonight one stood in front of me. "I don't smoke," I said to her.
Someone tapped me. "Please, just go to the toilet!" He was right. I hadn't peed in a while either. My urine was cloudy. "Glomerulonephritis," I said to myself on the toilet. This is an unusual condition. It's an inflammation in the kidneys, I thought I remembered. They should never have given me access to Google.
The evening progressed, and Louis kept buying rounds. "But seriously now. How does Louis suddenly have all that money for drinks?" I asked Gurb. He was outside smoking with a group of Swiss girls. I had strategically positioned myself so that I could always leave the crime scene if necessary.
"You shouldn't ask me," said Gurb. He was laughing with the temporary girlfriend group of Louis. Gurb has a beard. A lot of chicks like that. I get it too.
As much as I enjoyed Louis and Gurb being here for me, something didn't sit right with me. It couldn't just be about the money. "What's up with him?" I heard one of the Swiss girls say to Gurb.
Those kinds of questions really tire me out. "Not much, with you?" I replied.
They all started laughing. "That's not what she meant, brother," said Gurb.
"I couldn't care less whether she meant it or not. Send that brace-face back to Switzerland. Don't drive me crazy, alright!"
Actually, I hadn't drunk that much that evening. "Two vodka Sprites, please!" It's rare for me to get just one drink. "I always get two drinks, then you have to wait shorter for the third one!" Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I wanted to admit. Oh well, it was still the three of us against the world.
"Nice shoes, are those Prada?" I asked a random girl at the bar.
"No, these are fake. Why would I buy real ones for 600 dollars if I could just buy these for 20?"
"..."
I'm not very good at that. Talking. To women.
Louis and Gurb were in the smoking area now. It was less blue than the dance floor itself. My clothes already stank, so a visit to the smoking area couldn't hurt. "These people are so underground!" Gurb shouted. Louis was filming him with his phone. "These people..." There was a brief pause. As if Gurb forgot the only line he had. "...so underground!" All three of us burst into laughter. The alcohol flowed through our veins as if it came from the purest mountains. People seemed doubled and the room was full. We had been in the same club in Berlin for several hours.
"Leonardo! What are you hiding from the big boss?" I sometimes called Louis ‘DiCaprio.’ "You a rich guy, now?" I said, with an accent as if I were from the Bronx.
Louis started laughing. "Eh, you know nothing. Bullshit talk."
I had to laugh too. What was I even worried about? Friends are friends, with or without money. That shouldn't matter. Louis probably just worked for that money. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe he just had enough to buy rounds. But what if my gut feeling was right? That feeling was never wrong. Except for that one time at the Holland Casino in Groningen. Even the best of us have slip-ups. I was just getting worked up again. When it comes down to it, Louis is one of the sweetest guys I know. I had to let it go. After all, it's still Louis.
"I think I'm going to have sex soon, man," Louis said.
"With who?" I asked immediately.
"That one girl."
"Which one?"
"The one with the boobs."
"Oh, her. Just be careful."
"What kind of reaction is that?" Louis asked indignantly.
I'd only had four drinks, but I was acting like a mess. Louis was right. I didn't understand myself. Where was my head at? I'm here in Berlin, supposed to be having the time of my life, but here I am feeling lonely and sad again. Joost once again couldn't control his emotions.
"Sorry," I suddenly said to Louis. "Sorry for my behavior. Been acting dumb towards you all night. It's unnecessary." Sometimes I have that. Mood swings. "Know that crime is never the solution. We've talked about this so many times. Yes, it's tempting and sometimes easy money. I sometimes find it amusing too, but it's always hypothetical. Ask me for help. I can help you, even with illegal things. I'll always have your back." The dancing was kind of over.
The words I had just placed on Louis's plate came from my heart. My Frisian, irregular boys' heart.
Crying in the club. I had never seen myself like that. Crying, yes. In the club, no. I never understood the taboo around crying. Or emotions in general. I saw myself in the mirror. They weren't tears of joy. They weren't tears of sadness either. It was me letting everything go. All the emotions I had ever felt. The emotions I felt between my brother and sister and myself because they wanted to take on a parental role over me, but I was in puberty, so I pushed them away. The emotions I felt when my old neighbors were supposed to take care of my dog, but didn't tell me that he was bitten by one of their dogs. They didn't have money for the surgery, they later told me. They were ashamed of their lack of money. My dog died from this injury. Even the emotions that were all jumping at once during the retake for my swimming diploma A, I let go of.
No emotions. Just for a moment, not feeling anything. Is that too much to ask for?
"You still don’t smoke?"
It had to be the voice of the woman with the cigarettes. I looked over my shoulder through the mirror. It was her. The one with dark blond, silky hair.
"Not to be rude, but this is the men’s room," I said. She took a step closer and kissed me on my lips. It tasted like more. We started kissing. It had been a while since I had had female contact at this level. It probably didn't look good and it didn't feel good either. She started kissing my neck. Slowly, I noticed the pressure in the erectile tissues of my penis starting to increase. "I really don't have time for this!" I thought to myself. The woman with the cigarettes started to slowly sink down until she was on her knees. I didn't want this. Not now, not like this. She unraveled my penis from my Polo Ralph Lauren underwear. Her tongue was blue. It was probably from cheap shots of alcohol.
Was this real beauty then? Was this the beginning or the end of her story? And had I become the boy my parents hoped I would be? I thought about the fact that this was once someone's little daughter. Somewhere in the world, an old man might be wondering what his daughter is doing. Am I really putting pleasure above my own morals and values?
With my semi-erect circumcised penis still exposed, I lifted her up. After giving her a kiss on her forehead, I pulled up my pants and left the toilets.
It was the usual last hour in any club ever. I met Louis and Gurb at the bar. "Should we have another drink?" I asked Gurb. "I feel like having a cocktail. Something sweet. Lots of sugar. What about you?"
Gurb looked at the menu. "A cognac would go down well right now."
"A cognac? You're only nineteen!" Gurb and Louis laughed. "Two Tequila Sunrises please!" I called to the bartender. "Also, two beers! Thanks!" I also got a beer for Louis. At first, I didn't want to, but I didn't want to spoil the mood either. Besides, I didn't want to show too much that it bothered me so much.
We danced away the last minutes. The club closed, and we decided to walk with the group of Swiss girls. Apparently, they were staying nearby.
As I lagged behind the group, one of them tried to start a conversation with me. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly.
"I'm fine. Just had too much beer. Makes me sleepy." Not true at all, but I've heard people say that.
"You’re tired? The fun has only just began!" And as she said this, she pulled something out of her inner pocket. Her clenched fist, shielded by a half jacket. Who is this girl, anyway? I thought to myself. She opened her hand flat, and right in the center of her palm lay two small pills with a smiley face on them. At least, they looked like it.
"Oh, I don’t do drugs. Sorry."
"Me neither!" And she swallowed a pill. "Now it’s your turn... Or are you scared?"
Scared? Who did this crazy Swiss witch (with really beautiful eyes) think she was. With her "are you scared". I'll show her who's scared.
"Scared? I’m not scared." I picked up the remaining pill and swallowed it.
Everything went in slow motion. Was this who I had become? Was this the same boy from high school? And just before I could swallow, I spat out the pill. She was shocked. I picked up the pill again, dried it with my jacket, and put it back in her fist. "Maybe later!" I shouted, running back to the group, over my shoulder.
I have nothing to say to 9 out of 10 peers I come across. Of course, I can be social. I can also have fun with random people in random situations, but that night, it just tired me out. I also didn't understand what we were doing there. Those girls found me strange anyway. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel.
"We know this place where they go until 7 in the morning!" The girl leader of the group spoke. I wanted to go home. "If you guys want, you can go. Don't worry about me," I said to Gurb and Louis. The boys had a brief discussion. We agreed to stay for just a little while longer for some drinks. I consented. I was thirsty. "I'll have a Fanta, Louis."
Gurb had reached the last cigarette in his pack. Louis and a girl from the group were nowhere to be found. It didn't even bother me. This guy just walks around with some cash in his pocket and all hell breaks loose. After a night full of stimuli, I understood Louis. Of course, I understood Louis. He's a young god. Handsome, smart guy. But that didn't make me any less angry. It was purely about trust for me. Something inside me said I should stop subconsciously expecting things from people too. It prevents disappointment.
"Hotel please!" I jokingly suggested to Gurb. "Should you call Louis or should I?" I added. Gurb immediately grabbed his Android smartphone and called Louis. He put the call on speaker.
"Are you ready?" Gurb asked.
"Yeah. Sort of."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't have sex."
"That's fine, right? Tomorrow's a new day!"
"I think I'm in love, man," Louis said.
"...," Gurb said, chuckling as he let out a sigh.
Once we arrived at the girls' hostel, it was already getting light. Louis was thankfully back. There were stains on his pants, around his knees. My focus was solely on arranging a taxi. Although the boys were still flirting, I was really done now. "How are we going to pay for this taxi?" I said a bit too loudly.
There was a silence. "Don't worry. I still have cash," Gurb said.
"Yeah, I knew you would," I replied.
My words clearly hit Louis. "What do you mean by that?" he said.
It was as if time stood still for a few seconds. "Exactly what I said. Better listen." Louis pulled out a small wad of green bills from his pocket. At least 400 euros. "I don't even want to see that money," I reacted. I walked away.
I'll just order a taxi myself.
"Why are you walking away now?" Gurb said.
"Twelve hours ago, I was alone too, and I had a lot more fun then."
"Do you really want to know how I got this money?" Louis said.
Yes, I did want to know. My whole evening revolved around that damn money.
He took a second of pause before he began speaking. "The answer lies in the Mini."
What on earth could be in Gurb's mother's car? Louis was trying to get into my head. "Taxi!"
Once in the taxi, the division was clear. Gurb was upfront, chatting animatedly with the driver. All adventures ever were recounted. Louis and I in the back. One of my best friends since I was thirteen. Funny how things turn out. It was quiet between us. I was in my head, rehearsing how I would bring up the money again. It didn't add up, and he knew it himself. "I don't care, you know," I said, hoping he'd break.
"What don't you care about?"
"About that money."
"What money? You're really a crazy woozy man." Louis burst out laughing again.
On the other hand, it was silent. Gurb had started talking about the driver's family. The driver didn't appreciate it. Gurb meant well. The driver smelled of alcohol. Or was it me? His nails were polished. Maybe his wife was a specialist. I bite my nails myself. Like now.
"In the Mini, oh yeah."
"Shut up. Illegal man."
"You'll never know."
"Stop playing. Just say it!"
Louis grabbed my head, pulled himself towards me, and brought his mouth to my right ear. "Why so serious?" he whispered. He didn't want to tell me.
"But always with this damn money, huh?" I almost shouted at Louis. I broke every silence within a radius of 10 kilometers.
"I'm trying my best, bro. It is what it is. I can't make it any different," he replied. It was clearly bothering him deeply. He ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes people have to do things. And you know that better than anyone. Sometimes they have to do things they don't really want to or aren't supposed to do."
I knew this spiel all too well. Through all the drunken haziness, I suddenly saw a small glimmer of light. A tiny spark of sincerity. Louis was serious this time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to involve you in this. I'm sorry," sweat dripped from his forehead.
"You're serious, huh? Damn, man. What mess have you gotten yourself into now? Worse than Terschelling?" Worse than Terschelling would mean stolen goods. Maybe even violence.
"It's not what you think."
"The Adlon Hotel, right?" the driver chimed in. Always saved by the bell, that Louis.
Suddenly I hit my head against the seat in front of me. Of course, I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. The last thing I saw was Gurb waking up in panic from his drunken stupor. One by one, I started losing my senses. It started with the feeling in my fingers. For a brief moment, everything wasn't quite black, and I could only see a vague pattern of colors repeating inside my eyelids. You could compare it to the brief moment after the commercial break before the movie starts in the cinema. The movie was about to begin.
I knew I wasn't dying. At least not yet. Not like this. Not after an overall mediocre night out in Berlin. I found comfort in the image I forced myself to see. It was all in my head. There I was, unconscious.
I saw myself in a third-person point of view. It wasn't like I was actually leaving my body. More like there was a webcam hanging in one of the upper corners of the taxi.
As a child, I used to dream a lot about death. Nights spent awake.
At some point, I developed a kind of compulsive behavior. I kept swaying my torso from left to right with my hands under my head. It became almost like a workout before bedtime. Every night.
I called it dream shuffling. Just like I had learned to shuffle puzzle pieces or playing cards. Making things a little exciting for yourself. But what I almost never told anyone was that I was scared. I was afraid of burglars, who were very agile and muscular.
Especially afraid that they would murder me. I really wanted to know what death was like. It scared me.
These fear visions originated during an all-inclusive vacation in Turkey. I was 6 years old and already in bed. There was a big old TV in our hotel room, so I could secretly watch TV from bed. Every evening, my parents sat on the balcony. Here they discussed their day while enjoying a glass of alcohol. There was a Japanese animated series on TV. In the few seconds that I watched, I saw a scary creature climbing a sort of apartment complex via the balconies. The creature had hundreds of teeth and blond hair. It quickly entered to decapitate the people, then drained them and, as a final insult, robbed them. Dozens of carcasses of dead people were scattered around the apartment complex. The complex on TV resembled the resort where we were in reality, and the TV world merged with my surroundings. I became part of it. I saw people watching. No matter how loudly I screamed for help, they didn't react. The sun became very bright, and the people turned into nothing more than shadows. As the intensity of the sun increased, something became clear to me. These were not people. They had a sort of orange skin. Where I had previously thought it was their nose and mouth, it turned out that these shadowy figures did not have such physical features. They simply had three holes in their heads. The police tried to do something, but in vain. Since then, we always kept the light on in the hallway outside my bedroom. By rocking back and forth, from left to right, I could glance fleetingly at the beam of light under the door. That bit of light, escaping from the hallway into my room, gave me an advantage. It allowed me to stay one step ahead of the burglars. Pretty smart, right?
"From Jamaica to the world!
It’s just love. Why must the children play in the street?"
It was Bob Sinclar with "Love Generation" speaking to us through the taxi's speakers. We were stationary. I was conscious again, but I didn't feel alive at all. "How long was I out?" I asked Louis.
I could tell by his expression that he was relieved. Relieved that I was back. "One minute," he almost apologized. Louis gave me a pat on the shoulder. Gurb, on the other hand, was sleeping. He slept like a baby cub.
I put my right index finger on my forehead. It felt wet, but it wasn't blood. Blood feels different. Meanwhile, I kept hearing whistling.
"Be the love generation! Oh yeah!" It was still that same song by Bob Sinclar.
The earlier scent of alcohol had now been replaced by the smell of incense. It smelled like the same incense I had in my room. Sold to me as Tibetan 39 incense. I had bought it at a coffee shop in Rotterdam. I pulled up my notes on my phone. "Who lights incense in a CAR????" I let Louis read from my screen. He took the phone from my hands and started typing as well.
"Look at Gurb >>>" Gurb was so deeply asleep that his head drooped. His seatbelt held his torso in place, but his head ended up on the driver's shoulder. The man didn't mind. He didn't move. I made eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and soon I found him. He winked at me.
We arrived at the hotel. Gurb awakened from his alcoholic hibernation. "Who's going to pay for the taxi?" I asked. Clearly rhetorical. I already knew I would take this one for the team, as usual. I refused to use Louis's money. It was uncomfortably quiet. "By card please," I said.
"I'll always protect you, Louis. You really need to know that. I care about you like my own little brother. I'll always try to help you. But you have to be honest with me. Can you do that?" Louis didn't hesitate.
"Yes. Yes, I can. I'll show you. It's really in the Mini." Meanwhile, the taxi driver's card machine indicated that I had insufficient funds. That couldn't be right. Maybe I had withdrawn too much that evening.
"I have cash in the hotel room," Gurb said to me. Gurb informed the driver in broken English that he would go get his cash. The driver agreed. Money is money, whether it comes now or later. As long as it feels good in your hands.
Louis and I got out of the taxi. "You're not going to light a cigarette now, are you?" Louis wanted to smoke. "Especially for stress. That's really for people who can't handle pain. You need to feel pain. Pain needs to brand you for the rest of your life so you finally learn not to do such stupid things." It fell silent again. My blood boiled. All pots were on the stove. I felt like Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen. "Show me then. Do it."
Louis remained silent and walked around the corner of the hotel. Towards the parking lot. I followed him. "You're not going to find much," said Louis.
"Why not? Are you a magician?"
"No. Just. Not much."
"So there's suddenly magically nothing in Gurb's car?"
"Stop. Get out. Get out of my head!" Louis shouted. Louis had had enough. He was done with the parade. Normally we dealt with hypothetical stories. Only this time it wasn't a joke. I was sure now. Louis had dropped his mask. The revolution had begun. The government had fallen and the dikes had broken. The people were in charge. "You shouldn't freak out like this. Always wanting more. Sweet boy, think about yourself."
After Gurb gave the money to the driver, he came to us. He had a smile on his face, lit a cigarette, and exclaimed, "Brothers!" Once with us, he hugged me. He started laughing. "Maybe I haven't been entirely honest either." Sometimes Gurb seemed like a 38-year-old man. In a positive way. He exuded confidence in a way I didn't often see. Affectionate, with a hint of authority.
We stood in the middle of a large parking lot. "Look. We've reached a point where I might not even care anymore. You guys are teasing me." It did matter to me. Maybe more than ever. I was supposed to be two steps ahead of them, but I couldn't figure it out. "I give up."
The delightful silence returned. Louis and Gurb looked at each other. "You guys win. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted as a friend."
From Louis's expression, I could tell he disagreed with this. "Not true. Come to the car."
We arrived at the car. Louis unlocked it and searched for the trunk button. Gurb had started his third cigarette. "It's a corpse, isn't it? Say it now. I can still help you. I can still help us. I can book a ticket for you. We can get you out of here," I said to Louis.
"Just wait. Nutcase."
"Why won't you accept my help?"
Louis started laughing nervously. Or at least it seemed that way. Perhaps a sly laugh too. Had Louis killed someone? "It's not a corpse. That can't be. You wouldn't be stupid enough to use their ID. You're smarter than that. So it must be something stolen. Haven't you found that button yet?"
Suddenly, we heard a click. Louis had found the button. Somewhere, I didn't want to know. Shouldn't I just trust Louis? Wasn't that the whole point of friendship?
Finally, the moment had arrived. I placed my right hand in the slot of the rear hatch. Something in me doubted. Still. I still doubted. Louis looked dead serious. "You wanted to know, didn't you? Then you also have to be man enough to accept it." Louis was clearly not joking. Or was he acting again? "Pussy," Louis said. I looked away. "You're afraid of what's inside, huh? You're afraid of the real Louis." He began to laugh manically. "Open that thing, man. Nutcase!"
I started laughing too. Why did I make such a big deal out of it? Sweat broke out from every pore in my body. It was even a bit damp in the no man's land between my scrotum and my anus. A tropical climate. It had been quite an adventure the whole evening. I took my hand off the rear hatch and first gave Louis a hug. Not some half-hearted birthday wish. No, a real hug.
"It's okay, buddy," Louis said to me. I had no idea what he meant by that. It fit the moment though.
It was really time now. I opened the rear hatch.
"Where is it?"
"In front of you," said Louis.
"In some secret compartment?"
There was nothing in the trunk. Absolutely nothing. An empty trunk. For an empty evening, in an empty Berlin, with an empty group of guys. I didn't get it.
"You won, man," I whispered. "You finally fucking done did it."
I couldn't believe my eyes. Empty? There was still nothing in the car. Louis just stood there. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I had felt every emotion this evening. Seen every color and smelled every scent. I was done. My body was ready. No longer needed. My mission was complete.
"But why did you do this?" I asked Louis, laughing.
He scratched his chin. It felt like the end of a bad movie.
"I sold our Playstation. Wanted to tell you only after I had sorted everything out again. I terminated my lease. Had some debts, and I also wanted to have some money for once. Once not empty-handed in the club. Once not dependent on my best friends. This is not who I am... I know how much that Playstation meant to you. It was ours together. I should have just told you."
"… and how does Gurb actually make his money?"

Banned bird......This is a report (Elphaba)
To whom this concerns,
On the evening's 30/4/24- 1/5/24, I was absolutely horrified and left in disgust at the behaviour of one of your creators on tiktok live. Elphaba Orion Doherty, who also uses other accounts to side step account bans, displayed extremely horrifying behaviour that should never be witnessed on the app.
Thousands of people, potentially even many more thousands after the initial incident, were subjected to dangerous suicide baiting behaviour and violent content by Elphaba Orion Doherty. She held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill herself to thousands upon thousands of viewers, whilst appearing to be very unstable after an incident the previous evening of claiming she had self harmed. On the day of the 1/5/24, she was even showing her viewers, who again were in the thousands her self harm "injuries" on her wrist and arm, saying that she would "show them" to her viewers so she could manipulate her audience for more gifts.
Elphaba Orion Doherty was allowed, despite thousands and thousands and thousands of reports for online safety due to the content of brandishing a knife to her own throat, threatening harm to herself and saying she "wants to die" These reports were all received with no violations and the live was allowed to continue for over twenty minutes.
Children under the age of sixteen years of age have self harmed as a result of this. Adults who experience mental health battles have harmed themselves as a result of this. Families and friends of those who have committed suicide have been affected by this.
This creator has a track record of inflammatory behaviour on the app, which again has been reported on numerous occasions because of the very real risk to children who do have access to the app. Not only just children and impressionable young people, but also the vupnerable adults and everhone else who is subjected to this behaviour. The content of this creator suicide baiting, threatening to kill themselves, actively abusing alcohol and narcotics whilst on live is completely unacceptable. If she isn't displaying the above-mentioned behaviour, then she is demanding gifts and money from her viewers, literally demanding.
Due to Elphaba being a trans creator and also young (20 years of age) She is very attractive to the younger generations, the target audience being children as a large percentage of her gifters and viewers are children. She already has an extremely negative influence on these children, with her regular intoxicated ramblings, narcotic induced tantrums, and now suicide baiting and self harming while on live, is a psychological and emotional minefield for children. Elphaba needs IP bans and enforced bans from making other accounts for the safety and well-being of so many people who use the app and platform for welcomed, creative purposes.
On a daily basis, Elphaba breaks the platforms own policies. Please see below. And I am using general terms in referring to youths 13+ who are legally allowed to have accounts and access to the platform.
TIKTOK POLICY BREACHES
•"Youth safety is our priority. We do not allow content that may put young people at risk of exploitation, or psychological, physical, or developmental harm. This includes child sexual abuse material (CSAM), youth abuse, bullying, dangerous activities and challenges, exposure to overtly mature themes, and consumption of alcohol, tobacco, drugs, or regulated substances. If we become aware of youth exploitation on our platform, we will ban the account, as well as any other accounts belonging to the person."
As we are aware that Elphaba Orion Doherty has regularly exploited 13+ youths to emotional and psychological harm by displaying the above mentioned behaviour of suicide baiting, self harm, narcotic and alcohol abuse on a regular basis. Elphaba regularly discusses sexual exhibitionism and sexual assault incidents that have allegedly happened to her, and she routinely sexualises comments and innuendos that are inappropriate entirely. Not to mention how Elphaba regularly manipulates her young viewers for gifts.
•"We are committed to bringing people together in a way that does not lead to physical conflict. We recognize that online content related to violence can cause real-world harm. We do not allow any violent threats, incitement to violence, or promotion of criminal activities that may harm people, animals, or property. If there is a specific, credible, and imminent threat to human life or serious physical injury, we report it to relevant law enforcement authorities."
The platform does have many qualities and content that is perfect for what is described, however Elphaba has threatened to physically harm other creators on a regular basis, has been active in criminal activities such as using narcotics, encouraging underage drinking of alcohol and encouraging dangerous behaviour.
• "TikTok is enriched by the various backgrounds of our community members. Our differences should be respected, rather than a cause for division. We do not allow any hateful behavior, hate speech, or promotion of hateful ideologies. This includes content that attacks a person or group because of protected attributes, including: Caste, Ethnicity, National Origin, Race, Religion, Tribe, immigration status, Gender, Gender Identity, sex, sexual orientation, disability, serious diseases."
Elphaba has repeatedly broken these guidelines which have been reported, again thousands of thousands of times in her lives. She has been transphobic, racist remarks, direct racism to other content creators, discriminatory towards other genders. She has also made sexualised remarks regarding other's sexual identity and violent sexual exhibitionism regarding others of the opposite sex.
• "TikTok is a place where people can come to discuss or learn about sexuality, sex or reproductive health. We are mindful that certain content may not be appropriate for young people, may be considered offensive by some, or may create the potential for exploitation. We do not allow sexual activity or services. This includes sex, sexual arousal, fetish and kink behavior, and seeking or offering sexual services. However, it does not include reproductive health and sex education content."
Elphaba does not host informative content such as sex education or reproductive health discussions. She regularly broadcasts that she wants to find a "man" and how he needs to have particular attributes. She often discusses what she would do to these men, quite graphically which again, is not appropriately for her target audience.
• "We celebrate all shapes and sizes and want people to feel comfortable in how they present themselves and their bodies. We understand societies approach body exposure and clothing differently, so we seek to reflect prevailing cultural norms about nudity. We do not allow nudity, including uncovered genitals and buttocks, as well as nipples and areolas of women and girls. Sheer and partially see-through clothing is not considered covered. We allow regional exceptions for showing nipples and areolas in limited situations, such as medical treatment, educational purposes, or as a part of culturally accepted practices. Not all young people have the developmental maturity to respond to unwanted physical attention and uninvited sexualization, which may lead to psychological or physical harm. We do not allow significant body exposure of young people. Content is age-restricted if it shows significant body exposure of an adult. Content is ineligible for the FYF if it shows moderate body exposure of a young person, or significant body exposure of an adult. We allow regional exceptions for body exposure in limited situations, such as common cultural practices."
Elphaba on more than one occasion has exposed their genitals, full genitals while dancing provocatively in a dress at a club and this video has circulated. She has also exposed herself on her own lives while wearing a different dress on a separate occasion. She has also exposed her chest and cleavage in provocative dresses, including adding make up to accentuate herself to be more visually appealing.
•" TikTok is a place where people can come to discuss or learn about sexuality, sex or reproductive health. We are mindful that certain content may not be appropriate for young people, may be considered offensive by some, or may create the potential for exploitation. We do not allow sexual activity or services. This includes sex, sexual arousal, fetish and kink behavior, and seeking or offering sexual services. However, it does not include reproductive health and sex education content."
Elphaba regularly discusses her sexual preferences and discusses her kinks and broadcasts her sexual desires whilst on live stream. She routinely discusses her slime fetish, venom fetish, vore, human bodily fluids and often discusses masturbation.
• "In a global community, it is natural for people to have different opinions, but we seek to operate on a shared set of facts and reality. We do not allow inaccurate, misleading, or false content that may cause significant harm to individuals or society, regardless of intent. Significant harm includes physical, psychological, or societal harm, and property damage. It does not extend to commercial and reputational harm, nor does it cover simply inaccurate information and myths. We rely on independent fact-checking partners and our database of previously fact-checked claims to help assess the accuracy of content. Content is ineligible for the FYF if it contains general conspiracy theories or unverified information related to emergencies. To be cautious, content that warrants fact-checking is also temporarily ineligible for the FYF while it is undergoing review. To help you manage your TikTok experience, we add warning labels to content related to unfolding or emergency events which have been assessed by our fact-checkers but cannot be verified as accurate, and we prompt people to reconsider sharing such content."
Elphaba regularly discusses dark conspiracies such as governmental conspiracy, wars and conflicts and repeatedly spreads misinformation medically, politically and in general day to day life and has consistently preached anti governmental propaganda.
• "Content shared online may be seen by anyone, and has a wide reach. We are committed to making sure that any personal information shared intentionally or accidentally on TikTok does not lead to harm. We do not allow content that includes personal information that may create a risk of stalking, violence, phishing, fraud, identity theft, or financial exploitation. This includes content that someone has posted themselves or that they consented to being shared by others."
Personal information has been broadcasted by Elphaba where she has, on numerous occasions attempted to "expose" other tiktok creator's who have spoken out against her behaviour. She has actively put out personal information in terms of photos, names, addresses and incited hatred from her own viewers and supporters on these people she believes is against her when these people simply want to make the app safer for everyone involved. Essentially, Elphaba has "doxxed" also known as, leaking private information in the belief to cause malicious harm. She has also financially exploited vulnerable viewers who have sent ridiculously large amounts of gifts in (monetary value) under the agreement or promise of personal interaction on a one to one basis, or to join the live, or her usual speech is "Send a big gift for a follow"
UK LAW BREACHES
• Threatening behaviour with an offensive weapon - This can be prosecuted under The Offensive Weapons Act 2019, Threatening with an offensive weapon etc in a private place – Section 52.
•Threatening behaviour to other creators - This can be prosecuted under the Malicious Communication Act 1988 and the Communications Act 2003. Online threats could take many forms including threats to kill, harm or to commit an offence against a person, group of people or organisation
• Talking sexually to Minors - This can be prosecuted under Section 67 of the Serious Crime Act 2015, Section 15A. Furthermore, it can be prosecuted under Protection of Children Act 1978 if "sexting" occurs towards a minor. To also add that if the offender is under the age of 16, the following legislation can be pursued Protection of Children Act 1978.
• Obtaining money through tiktok gifts and Go fund me under the representation it for transitioning surgery - This can be prosecuted under The Fraud Act 2006, a,b and C, being false representation and misinformation. Other charges under the same bracket can be made due to the nature of the offences.
• Refund fraud, ie ordering food and returning it for monetary gain and at the loss of another - The above act also covers this.
• Fraud committed through the use of computer or mobile, technology devices including using the above mentioned methods to further commit crimes - This is prosecuted under Computer Misuse Act 1990.
• Blackmailing or threatening particular actions or behaviour that is to force someone to do a specific thing - This is prosecuted under The criminal offence of blackmail under the section 21 of the Theft Act 1968.
There are so many more things that could be added to this report.
Also, please see the attached online safety bill, which Elphaba is in direct breach of in regards to her content and live streaming behaviour ;
https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2023/50/enacted
I look forward to your reply.

I (27F) have an older brother, 33M. We didn't get along very much as kids due to the age gap, not for my lack of trying. I never really understood why my brother didn't really like spending time with me, because he was one of my favorite people in the world, despite all his bullying.
For context, I'll give some examples of what my brother has done to me over the years with some vague age ranges of when they occurred.
When I was about 3, my brother convinced me that red was orange and orange was red because I was learning my colors in preschool. He also used to steal food like tater tots off my little high chair tray and would pretend he didn't do anything when my mom checked on why I was crying (I was NOT a fussy baby/toddler, so it set off alarm bells when I did.)
I think when I was 4 or 5, my brother came into my room after I had already been put to bed, and he woke me up. Thing is, he was hovering over me with a scary mask on, only the hallway light, and a butterknife. Not sure I really have to explain why that was traumatic. I'm still afraid of masks to this day.
When I was around 10-12, my brother kept drinking all the milk or kool aid that I would make and never replenish/remake it. I told him to stop, he wouldn't, of course. My mom was fostering other children and didn't have time for squabbles like this. So I very visibly spit on top of the kool aid pitcher and left the lid off so it was seen. What does my (reminder, 17-19) brother do? He wrenches the bowl of cereal I'm currently eating out of my hands, spits in it, and shoves it back at me hard enough that it spilled all over me. Now, I'm not an angry person. I'm not a violent person. But I was still a child and fed up with being bullied by someone who was/almost an adult. I never tried getting physical before because I was so much smaller, but I hit puberty kind of early. So I splashed the bowl back at him to see how he liked it. He threw me to the ground and hit me. My mom had to break us up and told us we were both to blame, so he didn't even get punished.
Several times, he would turn the lights off on me when I was on the other side of the room in the basement away from the switch, because I was afraid of the dark for a very long time.
We had Sonic Adventure 2 we shared. If we ever fought about something, or I reminded him it was my turn, he threatened to say goodbye forever to my chao. I am extremely soft hearted so that accomplished what he wanted.
Sometimes I would notice my things go missing. I had assumed maybe my mom put them away somewhere and forgot, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened to them. Especially gamecube games-- Those discs were tiny! He was pawning them for drug and booze money. One time he was drunk and admitted he had been selling his adderall for other drugs. That came to a head one terrible Christmas Eve. Brother was home for the holiday and I'm not very clear on what events led up to it, but my parents caught my brother in the bathroom with a baggie of various drugs that he was already doing. He insisted it was just weed, but my parents didn't believe that. I wouldn't know, I only briefly saw the bag, but it was full of both a large green ball of like leaves and lots of white powder. It was a vicious screaming match for a few hours. I hid out in my room on a different floor and played a video game as loud as I could so I didn't have to hear my family. The screams died down after a while, and I cautiously went out of my room. My brother had left the house for a while. I had a few holiday assignments and decided to just crank them out while my family cooled off, and I did it at the dining room table because that's where our Christmas tree was too and I desperately needed that good cheer magic. I was quietly writing, not saying anything, not making much noise, when my brother came back in the house. He stopped off at the kitchen for something and muttered something rude and belittling to me. At this point I'm a preeten-early teen and he had already ruined the day that had always been magical to me before, as my grandma used to stay over with us on Christmas Eve. She had died rather recently at the time. And I can't tell you exactly what I said. I think I've blocked out as much as I can. I made some snide remark, something like 'at least I don't do drugs' and in the next second I was yanked out of my chair. My brother picked me up by the neck and slammed me against the wall. I know I clawed and kicked against the wall as hard as I could. I blacked out, and I woke up on the floor with my parents absolutely screaming at him that he could have killed me. As a side note to the whole ordeal, he never apologized, and it's made my adult life a lot harder as weed becomes more and more commonplace. Just the thought of it used to send me in a panic attack, I could feel the hands choking me again. I've gotten better about dealing with it, but I still refuse to have it in any part of my life whatsoever. It's cost me a few relationships.
When I was in college, my brother had moved back in with me and my parents because his girlfriend dumped him for being a piece of shit that worked at walmart and did nothing but drink all day despite having a state paid scholarship, that he wasted, because he couldn't keep his GPA above 2.8. He was a music major. The classes he took were things like 'History of Jimi Hendrix' and 'The Beatles'. He just partied too much to even attend class. He took the dog they got with him, not at all prepared for her. The dog is a high energy breed that is difficult to train, and we had two small 5-10 pound dogs at home. At 1 year old, bro's dog was about 30 pounds. He often left for several hours during summers/breaks when I was home, without telling anyone, knowing that I would either hear the dog cry if he crated them and feel bad and let them out or that I wouldn't banish them to a crate if they were already in a room with me. The dog bullied our other dogs and bit at everyone. Dog was incredibly overly protective of my brother-- Trait of the breed. I was back at college for a few months and had spent a good month mourning the loss of a 5 year relationship. I never really heard anything from him. Then out of the blue, my brother asks me if I can let him and dog stay for the night (we live 2 hours from the college) because my mom had kicked him out. The dog had bit her and she snapped at my brother to control his f'ing dog and he responded by calling her, the woman who birthed him, payed for his other college costs, paid back loans he promised to pay to other family members, never charged him rent, and he called her a f'ing female dog. She snapped. While I agree that my mom was completely in the right to do that, I have too soft of a heart to just leave him with nowhere to go. He promised it was just a night so he could get in touch with some friends closer to home and figure shit out. I let him come to me.
I really regret that decision.
At the time I had a new roommate (she was very nice though, I liked her) and a sort of FWB who doted on me for a little while. I texted FWB and asked if he could bring some alcohol by-- I was still 19 at the time, underage to buy it, but FWB was old enough and agreed the man could probably do with a drink. We stayed out on our little porch area to make sure that we wouldn't be disturbing my roomie in any way while we socialized. My brother got really wasted. He told me terrible things about our deceased grandmother (who he knew I had really loved growing up, and had no idea about who she really was because she had always loved me). And he laughed. He laughed when he saw the discomfort on my face. My FWB was feeling pretty bad for me and suggested we go to bed because it was also like 3 in the morning and both of us had class in the morning, so we go inside. The apartment has a shared common room/living room, little kitchen area, and laundry closet. My bedroom is on one side and roomie's was on the other-- Both bathrooms are also ensuite to the bedroom. So I went in and changed out of my clothes into something comfier to sleep in and crawled into my bed, letting my brother do his own thing in the bathroom. I'm just trying to rest and suddenly my brother is pulling me out of my bed and dragging me out of my own room. He's yelling that he's taking my bed, did I really expect him to take the couch? And I'm not very confrontational. I'm flustered, tired, and honestly a little afraid after the neck choke incident. FWB steps in like a hero and tries to calmly explain that its my bed, and I will sleep in it, I have been kind enough to let him stay and he should not be so ungrateful. Brother fucking loses his mind. Starts screaming his head off about how selfish I am and how reliant I am on our parents and won't be able to do anything on my own as an adult (I was financially dependent on my parents at 19 while in college, shocker). He starts drunkenly trying to pick up his dog's toys and searching for his keys, and both FWB and I step in and tell him he can't go driving like this, after like half a bottle of fireball. He at least needs to sober up before he can drive. I stand in front of the front door, as my brother is still searching for his keys, and there is no way I'm letting him out of here right now. Brother has found his keys, and starts pulling at me and hurting me. Lucky for me, FWB had been a pretty good wrestler in highschool. He got my brother pinned down and I snatched the keys, hiding over by the sink in case I had to throw them in there. He's screaming his head off and my poor roommate comes out and asks what the hell is going on because she knows I'm very quiet and tend to keep visitors in my room. I'm like half sobbing trying to explain and the FWB, still pinning my brother, tells her that we're trying to keep him from drunk driving. My roommate does not play around with that. She was in nursing school, and had recently lost a friend to a drunk driver. I don't know how it worked, but she put on her stern nurse tone and told my brother that he was free to leave when he sobered up, or she herself would be calling the cops on him, and both me and FWB could press additional charges for assault. He reluctantly agreed to this condition and FWB let him off the floor, but sat in front of the front door just in case. When he was sobered up, he left, saying 'I hope you like mom and dad, because I'm not your family anymore'.
And that was devastating. I couldn't stop crying. My FWB went back to bed with me and laid me down in bed and let me cry until I passed out. He skipped his class that day to be there for me. I know I don't paint a good picture of my brother, but I did/do love him. I thought now that we were older that he'd mellowed out and we could be good friends like I always wanted. I mean, I made like 300 fake facebook accounts back in the day to vote for his band to be a headliner at a large concert. Just a few years prior when he was home on a break he introduced me to a TV show we binged and he let my lay on his shoulder. (I was/am very touch starved but paralyzed by fear that I'm annoying the other person, and all my friends were made later in life and are states away). When Pokemon Go came out we would take late night drives around quiet places of town while hunting pokemon together. We traded off the controller on online battlefield games and compared scores and the most ridiculous deaths. I really thought that he loved me too, finally, after years of resentment.
He didn't speak to me for 2 years. I didn't find out until later, but my parents lied for him on my behalf that he still loved me and was just annoyed, and gave me birthday/christmas presents that they told me had been from him, just that he was working. I really treasured those objects when I didn't know the truth about them. I got a really stupid mug with the first letter of my name on it in pink and zebra print (two things I don't really enjoy) but I used that thing every single day.
So, these are glimpses into my previous relationship with my brother. I don't really remember when he started speaking to me again, but I sure know he never apologized. He had finally hit rock bottom and asked my father to put in a good word for him at (insert facility with decent pay and good benefits but hard work), which he had previously rejected by telling my parents that it was a shit job. My brother's name got put closer to the top of the resumes. He got in. It wasn't easy work, or comfy sometimes, but it paid well enough to endure that, I guess. My brother used to be rather athletic.
Between the cut off point and then, my brother had worked at a (also generic job) a town or two over and hated the commute. He also happened to find a girlfriend with an apartment sort of close by. She didn't like having him over because of his dog, and almost never let him do any overnight. But now that my brother had a better paying job, she was willing to move in with him, of course. My brother bought a house in our home town and she came with it. She pays a ridiculously low amount of rent to my brother.
If she was home and brother wasn't, the dog stayed crated up because she didn't want to deal with it. Both of them worked, but her job isn't at all difficult. And yet somehow, sometimes pulling doubles, my brother ended up doing most of everything. My brother, who didn't learn to do his laundry until his 20s, ate pizza every single day, and had left used condoms on the floor of his bedroom in our parents house when he left. He did most of the cooking because she says she's bad at it. But will make pies for her mom. When the holidays came around, instead of discussing or rotating, they will always go to her family first. If my brother can come to ours at all. He often misses entire occassions (we don't go out big, but like, cmon. Hand your dad the gift card on his birthday at least, not 2 weeks later).
I also used to get to hangout or see my brother sometimes. Maybe once every few weeks, and it was fun! It was the friendship I had always dreamt of. Now I can't even get him to do anything online with me from the comfort of his own home. I don't have a single text from him this year past 1/27.
At first, we all understood. She was quirky. I was quirky. We share several similar traits and interests. I used to like that and be excited to have a family member like me, but now I dread the day she becomes family.
Let's start with the smoking car. Me and my parents were driving near his street so we could cut through to the highway, and out of nowhere, black smoke starts coming from the hood. My father tells me and my mom to get out and he'll get it to my brother's and out of the road to look at it and see what was going on. This was like.... early August. It was very hot outside. Since I've 'been in the house before' and 'know what it's like' I am 'allowed' to come into my brother's house to cool off. But GF refuses letting in either of them, referring to the messy state of the house. Which, okay, fair-- But its HER messes. My brother cleans up after her. I learned later that GF snapped at him about his family always coming over unannounced and how she has to hurry to put on a bra and everything is messy and we can't just drop in its rude! She says, as her mother and brother do the exact same thing, in a house she doesn't own. But my family let it be water under the bridge for now. My brother called me a f'in a'hole for telling my mom about the conversation. Because my mom was livid.
The next thing is my father. My dad's family has a pretty big history of strokes and heart attacks, and he's had one heart attack. My dad had been in pain all day and he finally gave up at about 3AM and woke my mom up to drive him to the hospital. I don't have a license at this point, so there's little that I can do. My mom says the surgery he probably needs isn't even done here and they're transferring him, my mom asked me to keep my brother in the loop. So I told him about this and about the time they would reach the hospital, because my mom dad gran and I share locations. I asked if he would take me up, I had a bag full of things that might make him more comfortable or less stressed. The hospital they're taking our dad to is a little over an hour away. Everyone is more or less frantic. My brother is talking to work for him, I'm making sure that for however many hours that our pets will be okay and talking to my mom's work. We drive there and nothing major happens, but it was so... Uncomfortable? Tense. The thing that's hurting my dad is a blocked or enlarged blood vessel that cuts off oxygen to the tissue around it, which, cells die, and you really need your colon, the area my dad has an issue with. The thing is, until they can do the surgery, it was like he was a ticking time bomb. My brother takes me home when visitor hours are over and I hold my dogs tight. The next day is filled with lots of pricks pokes and prods at my dad so we don't go that day. We do go the day after, Friday. My brother's GF is in the truck with him. I'm not really paying attention to much of anything because for all we know my dad could die before we got there. Brothers' GF goes to get some snacks from the long drive and the fact that she's not exactly family yet. My brother, mom and I rotate who is away in the cafe and eating with GF. I see GF and my brother whispering angrily at each other. She's tugging at his arm. I manage to pick up 'We're going to miss my mom's dinner!" And I am just stunned. Her mother has a small family dinner every single friday and makes meatloaf. His GF wanted us to head back from our critical father, because she didn't want to miss a weekly event. And I really have to hand it to my brother for not snapping right then and there. He waited until we were in his truck and out of the hospital parking lot and says "How in the f'ck do you say something to me like that? Like, for real, wtf!" GF starts crying and says its a family tradition and her mom is all she has left-- False. She has her mom, sister, and brother, at least. Her father died in a car incident that hospitalized her as a kid. So my brother snaps again like 'are you seriously telling me you value a f'ing loaf of meat over a life? we have no idea what will happen, my dad could die within the hour and i'm not there, he could die tomorrow, how long d-" And GF cuts him off wailing that her dad is dead. Which, yes, is a horrifyingly traumatic experience. But she does not get to play the 'my dad is dead' card ten years after the fact, to justify leaving our possibly dying father before visiting hours ended. She tried to emotionally blackmail my brother by apologizing to me through tears that this must be so hard for me but honestly I was doing my best to block it out, staring at pictures of dogs in hammocks. I shared my brother's sentiment.
But wait, there's more! Remember that car accident GF had years ago? You would think that, if nothing else, she would be empathetic for someone/their family in a car crash? You'd be wrong! I was rear ended at 60 mph right in front of my house after coming home from work (the ambulance took me straight back to work lmao). The physical damage to me was pretty minimal, bruises and a sprained ankle because my foot was pressed on the brake, waiting for an opportunity to cross into the driveway. This was late October 2020. Covid regulations were pretty strict. So I was alone in a room for a while and in pain. My parents had followed the ambulance. My dad had actually heard the crash and went 'huh she usually comes home now' and runs over after seeing the wreckage. My parents had the crash footage, grainy, but there thanks to the cameras set up outside our house. I hadn't realized it by that point but I had a pretty good concussion, and I was hurt, and scared. I was texting my mom constantly but my dad had left his phone at home in the rush to get my mom and she hadn't charged her phone, they'd been in the parking lot for like an hour and a half already. They promised me they'd be back soon, they'll just pop in and let my brother know since he lives nearby. My parents didn't even ask to like, stay and sit with them instead of a cold car. My mom asked to pee and to borrow a charging cable (they had one, GF has the same model phone) given the, you know, situation. My brother barely cracked the door to speak with them. He said no, because GF was uncomfortable, because they were waiting for their second negative test to come in. Read that again. They had tested negative. It's not like my mom would go near anyone to the bathroom either-- The back door that's used more often is literally inches away from the bathroom door. My brother didn't even try to argue with his GF about his own home and some empathy for someone else dealing with a car crash. It absolutely disgusted my parents. And later on brother told me he got another earful about our parents just dropping in without notice and its like? Excuse me? Its his house!
Unfortunately, a tire popped on my parents' car when we were nearby. It was like, 3 years since the first issue with the car. I went inside and asked my brother to let my mom in because its raining. GF did not like that, and didn't realize I could overhear her down the hall, arguing with my brother and his family again. I went over the next day to my brother and he was actively cleaning up GF's mess so it wouldn't be as 'embarassing' for her. I sat him down and talked to him as realistically as I could. I have depression, anxiety, emotional abuse trauma, agorophobia, and very few friends. But I'm okay. He started very quietly expressing his frustration towards GF. She doesn't do much around the house or contribute financially, lets her family over but not his, him doing most of the cooking despite regularly pulling 12s. I sat there calmly, because of course I knew this. This is what makes the situation somewhat even more sticky. I asked my brother, "Do you actually love someone like that? Or are you afraid to be alone?" He's been in one relationship or another for most of my life. Lately he had been confiding in me about how bad his mental health was falling and I was like 'that's not a slump, that's. that's depression.' So when I asked my brother the question, he hesitated. That spoke loudly enough in my opinion. But then I also saw my brother's face crumpling as he admitted he just didn't want to be alone. GF wants babies but my brother knows with her medical history and condition on top of being so lazy and bluntly told me she would not be a good mother and hopes to God that day doesn't come. He is so unhappy being with her. We both heard the rustling of a comforter and my brother lowered his panicky voice and asked me to leave so she doesn't see me here. That is incredibly messed up, especially since its his name on the house. I haven't seen my brother at his house since then, and that was over 2 years ago.
During COVID, GF started working from home, and it stayed that way. My brother still takes care of most things.
In the mean time, he's proposed to her. Yeah. I managed to save things when all our faces dropped at the Christmas dinner he announced their engagement at. My brother calls her by a nickname that was also the name of a beloved family dog that had passed away only one month ago. My dad and my reactions at that time were genuine confusion and sadness about him bringing up our passed pet. Everything was pretty quiet after that. When we got home, I texted my brother and told him that hearing our dog's name in conversation after losing her so recently shattered us, be we were, in fact, happy for his engagement.
I lied.
None of us want him to marry her. I dread the day that I get a wedding invitation or GF shows up pregnant. She would be a terrible mother. My brother is aware of the fact that my parents think she's a rude, inconsiderate brat that only thinks of herself, from that earlier conversation that I talked to my parents about. My mom snapped that they don't have to like her, all they were required to do was be civil, and we are, so shut up.
At larger family functions GF tends to gravitate around me. Like I said, we have similar interests and personalities. And I have never told her to get lost or had it in me to upfront tell her we don't like her. I am absolutely horrible at confrontation, but my patience is wearing thin.
Last year my parents set up brunch for Mother's Day. We were at the table when my brother called and said they were going to urgent care because GF had another one of her migraines that make her vomit. Which, she takes medicine and has injectable solutions. Some situation always comes up with her right before my brother would come to us.
My parents tried again with the Mother's Day brunch last week. On the day of, he said that he was too tired to come, can we try next week? Please insert the eyeroll of the century.
Because of our clear dislike, my brother doesn't often bring his GF around anymore on the offchance she lets him. It occurred to me that my parents planned the same brunch as last year, and I was dreading my question. "Is GF coming with us for brunch?" They don't know. All my brother did was confirm the time and place. The thought of having to deal with her in the morning and pretend that I don't see her for what she is, is already exhausting me. I can barely get my brother to even play online with me. I feel like this has been festering long enough that at some point, its all going to overflow at once. But I am absolutely disgusted by how she takes advantage of my brother's fear of being alone and how the world revolves around her.
I had a dream the other day, actually, it was a good dream. I was at their wedding, and the priest guy said the standard 'speak now or hold your peace' and I stood up and loudly shouted OBJECTION! Every single person in the room turned to look at me, one because I don't raise my voice like that, two my patience is vast, and three, to upset me to this level of shouldering my anxiety by making a spectacle of myself. I then explained every detail, especially how much she was charged for rent, that my brother admitted he wasn't happy, and I wanted better for him than to just be an ATM maid.
If I bring this up to my brother again, I may lose him forever. But if I don't, he may be miserable together. And on the third side-- Do I actually really want my brothers' friendship at this point? Like, I'm definitely fed up dealing with his GF like she is. Plus, I pointed out and reiterated to him before that he admitted he wasn't happy.
I am very, very quiet by default. Never got into much trouble. I was and still am a gentle soul at my core being. If things get to a point where I cross lines of polite manners and call someone out on their bs, people around know that someone did something almost unforgivable. I'm wondering if my brother would know that.
TLDR; Brother's fiancee is disliked for good reason. My brother has isolated. I miss him, but also never want to see him again. I want to remind him that this marriage isn't a good idea, but I don't want to antagonize him.

Hey demons, It's me, ya boi...
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Notice: This story is about to humanity, but they are introduced much later into the narrative.
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Prev: Chains of the Veiled (3/?) :
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First: Chains of The Veiled :
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Station 68 was one of necessity, built along with many others to remain active in the case it was needed during any sort of instance of Civilian Hardship. This was a place built for those with no path to rest and wait to walk a new one, and as such had many government-funded commodities to those that sought refuge here. Many found shelter here, homeless through any situation, from financial ruin to wartime refugees. They were civilian projects, for those who could not care for themselves, for those to rest and rely on until they could regain a foothold in reality. To regain control financially and socially.
This was not just free housing however, there are certain conditions that need to be met in order for your stay here to be acceptable. This wasn’t a service meant to be abused, it was for the homeless and poor alike, and those who needed it only... As such, the amenities provided weren’t stellar in any regards. There were recreational activities and freely distributed foods, but it was minimal and decent at best. It was free though, and beggars aren’t in a position to choose what kind of help they get. It’s enough to get reassurance that you don't need to worry about next meals. There was one thing about this place that was rather disappointing though… As Kazzi was currently complaining about in the seat across from me in the larger corner booth.
“Why pay for drinks?! Everything else here is free! Sure, it’s cheaper than anywhere else, but still! It just seems inconsistent with how everything else is here.” she spoke in a fit as she took another swig of alcohol. I could only sigh in a disappointed manner, finding Kazzi’s current behavior both unacceptable, and out of character. I knew that she was supposedly a party animal from what others in the department would suggest, but not to such a degree as to already be at her second bottle halfway into the evening.
After a second of regaining my barrings, I looked back up at the Fulkari woman to respond, “Well, drinking isn’t considered something that should be encouraged Kazzi. It’s an incentive to seek other means of coping with struggle, even if it’s as cheap as it is. It’s also more of a luxury on a station with barely any to give. The fact it’s as cheap as this despite its surprising quality really doesn’t seem to have the effect though. It seems like everyone that was on the yacht who escaped with us is also taking advantage of this feature.” It wasn’t a lie either, I say many others entered before and after us. All grabbing what they could, drawing the bartenders with requests as they wished to drown away problems.
Hopefully those staff got paid aplenty for dealing with shit like this. Some people were less than savory after having to deal with a mechanical extermination that removed them from their very way of life. Everyone and their mothers wanted something to down to distract from the trauma that flooded everyone’s mind, and I was no exception. With a glass of Vlekvir branded Whiskey, I took a long swig, downing a good portion of the bottle. Kazzi seemed to cheek me on somewhat, as she seemed to chuckle at my prolonged chugging. I simply rolled my eyes to Kazzi’s antics and continued to eat my meals. I made sure to drink enough water to not end up a complete Drunk, knowing that I was going to need to direct Kazzi back to the ship considering her tipsy state.
Why is it that I always have to hinder my fun just so this Fulkari doesn’t kill herself in the aftermath of her own?! It’s a serious issue that I refuse to tolerate any longer. Regardless of the current favor Kazzi had in this game of life, the tables would soon turn after I would help her back to the ship. Kazzi would owe me a favor for this, and that was something I intended to make good use of.
“Excuse me?” I heard, jumping at the suddenness of the question, spoke so close. I looked around frantically in response to being so startled, only to look down and find a small entity. A Kraviska, an insectoid species known for rapid repopulation with their method of reproduction being unique compared to most others. As long as they had a type of Queen to their hive, and enough meat and yeast to feed them, then they'd never run out of larvae. Her blue chitinous exoskeleton glistened in the light, and her four compound eyes bore an unease into my gaze. Her two claw-like pincers clicked as she spoke.
I took a moment to recollect myself from the scare, with Kazzi all but laughing at me in her tipsy state. I scoffed at her tease and looked back down at the Kraviska. “How did I not hear you walk over to us?” I asked her, and her antenna seemed to flicker up and down in her species form of embarrassment. For what I could only assume was the scare. She held herself low, keeping her tray of food close to her as she stuttered to respond. “I-I’m sorry,” She spoke. “It’s just something that I end up doing… I’m not trying to sneak about like I do, it just happens. I don’t understand why or how, but I make silent movements.”
“Is that a Kraviska thing, or just something that you do because…” I asked, leaving the question incomplete, waiting for a response. She looked to the side for all but a moment, antenna continuing to wiggle in embarrassment. “It’s something that I myself do, not my species. I’m sorry, I really am.” Seeing her hiding her face with her tray the way she was, I sighed and opted out of any further confrontation. “It’s fine, You just startled me is all… sorry for coming off as so hostile.” I said with a nod, a gesture meant to convey that I meant no escalation of conflict.
She seemed to ease up with this reassurance that I provided and lowered her tray from her face. Her face reverted back to her general curiosity that she initially spoke with. “I’m sorry for the scare. But… you see, the whole establishment is packed with patrons. My significant other and I can’t find a seat anywhere else. You’re in one of the larger booths, so I was wondering if maybe we could squeeze in? I-If you’d be willing, that is…” The Kriviska spoke in a meager tone, trying her best to be as polite as possible. I was honestly surprised to find such an non-confrontational member of her species, considering how prideful some of the supposed hive queens could be.
I nodded and responded in affirmation of the request, “Of course, there’s plenty of space for you and whoever else. Kazzi, could you move in a bit?” The tipsy fulkari huffed in annoyance as she scooted aside for whoever might need a seat. I gave her a glare, and one that seemed to have the expected effect. Being a hardened navy man, she was quick to correct her attitude when she saw me. As for the Insectoid, she nodded her head and went over to speak with…
A… A T’ccoj?! T’ccoj were silicon-based lifeforms that were essentially just massive electrical golems. Electrical signals capable of transmitting all about a metal interior which functioned as neurons in a brain in biological life. These electrical signals are so powerful that it allows them a limited ability to manipulate broad and wide bipedal legs they possess to move. They weren’t able to last long however, only able to live for a few hours after being struck with lightning. Only when they were discovered and provided robotic arms to manipulate tools, and battery packs to increase their menial lifespans, were they able to build up cities and civilization proper. T’ccoj were known for they’re adept learning and utilized in a plethora of roles. This T’ccoj in particular was large compared to most others, easily reaching my height, and my kind were one of the taller species.
When the insectoid walked over with the Living mineral, I found myself nervous and confused. Silicon life was always something that I was antsy around, I wasn’t sure why. It was just a great unease to speak with what was essentially a rock… It would be best to not call it that. I’m pretty sure that’s a racist term for lithoid life to refer to them as rocks.
The Kriviska hopped up into the seating and used her multi jointed legs to scutter across the cushions to the corner. She sat close to Kazzi and gestured to her silicon companion to take a seat just by her. Getting a better look at the T’ccoj, I saw the makeup of the living mineral. Its body was divided between crystalline orange and rocky brown textures. A battery pack along the back of its body, and powerful hydraulic based robotic arms allowing for heavy lifting. They were similar in color and texture to the T’ccoj’s natural body and moved in blocky and stiff manners like that of the Lithoid. It moved to sit downright next to the Insectoid…
What did the Kriviska refer to this entity as?! A significant other?!
“Allow me to introduce ourselves.” She spoke, regaining my direct attention. Whilst she did have my focus, my gaze was still trained on the T’ccoj, trying to get a better understanding of who I was dealing with here. “My name is Zikee, and this is Bocc… my husband.” Whilst I did my best to keep my shock as internal as I could. I found it baffling to see an insectoid like her with a lithoid like this. There was such a divide between compatibility, that I found it strange to be a witness of. Despite my ability to maintain composure, my Fulkari associate wasn’t so like me in the current state she found herself in. Being so tipsy caused her to nearly shout out in raw shock at the fact. As she spoke, it was slurred and unfiltered due to the unnerving amounts of alcohol in her system.
“You married a Lithoid? As a small and fragile Kriviska?! Wouldn’t that lead to some very dangerous situations, like being crushed by the big guy's weight?” I turned to glare at Kazzi, trying to shut her up from this drinking sprawl she seemed to invite with her comment. My glare didn’t have so much of the same effect as before. She seemed to have a bit more resistance to my influence due to the increased effect of her alcohol intake. I should have stopped her sooner, but decided against it since Kazzi needed some relief after the attack. I was beginning to regret that decision even more than before…
Zikee seemed to sigh an annoyed sigh, likely having this conversation many times before. “No… it doesn’t. We Kriviska’s don’t have as fragile exoskeletons as theories believe. Our kind developed in a high gravity world after all! I could bench press Bocc on certain low gravity worlds. Admittedly there are very few where that could happen, but they do exist! Not to mention that I love Bocc, they’re a joy to have around. A shy and gentle giant who’s all but the most tender with little ones. They’re my husband because I love them for who they are. They’re a loving soul despite the hardened exterior they have.” She turned to look at Bocc as she spoke, looking at them with a sense of compassion and devotion that I considered rare to see.
Bocc had a vocalizer attachment, one which allowed them to speak to others freely. Using the electrical signals in their rock brain to operate the machine and speak as needed. “My goal is to be the best I can be… For her. She deserves as much for all she does for me.” He said in a heartfelt tone of conviction. One which caused the Kriviska to turn her head in embarrassment. “Oh stop it you.” She teased, waving one of her arms at him in a dismissive manner, chuckling all the while.
“Seems like you two are really close and trust each other. Can I ask how you two met?” I asked, wanting to know the story to these two. It’s not every day that I find such an interesting duo like the one before me. Bocc seemed to respond on their behalf, “We met years ago when we fell on hard times. We met at a restaurant where I was working, and she was eating at the time. I decided to strike up a conversation after work and it ended up leading me to ask her out. We had our ups and downs, but we pushed through because of the understanding we share. Not to mention, despite our incompatibility in terms of physical appearances, we were never concerned with. We cared about each other because of who we were, not because of any other desires. We wanted to be with one another, because… We just love each other.”
… I was surprised to find such an outlandish couple to be one of the most wholesome I’ve ever seen. “But what about-” Kazzi began to ask before I shut her lips myself with my claws. Kazzi was about to ask something vulgar, and I refused to let her alcohol-ridden system ruin something so pure. The adoration in Zikee’s compound eyes was evident to the devotion she had for Bocc. “As long as we have each other, we’re complete. No matter what else we lose…”
Zikee’s comment left open many interpretations to be made, as the last part was spoken solemnly. As such, it led me to ask the question, “You were part of the evacuation of Fojhiam too, right?”
The two froze up for a moment, before turning back to me. They laid still and motionless as the thick air was left to permeate the surroundings of our booth. From their silence, a thousand words were spoken. It was clear that these two were very much victims like us, victims of tragedy and loss. As hundreds of billions of people lost connection with the wider galaxy. The whole event is almost taboo to speak on, despite us being witness to it. The two of them seemed hesitant to speak up, not wanting to confirm anything right yet. Despite the heavy air, and the stoic expressions they tried to wear, I could feel the heavy emotion radiate from them both. I was going to say something, but Bocc spoke first, their mechanical voice a product of the machine they spoke through.
“We were able to escape on a Jasvikan Superyacht. It was luck that was on our side for such a wealthy individual to permit us entry without leaving. I guess there are good people no matter the walk of life they take.” Bocc said, giving a general idea of his opinion of wealthy individuals. But what my attention gravitated to during their whole exposition was the ship they escaped on… the one that-.
“Oh, you escaped on my ship!” Kazzi spoke up, saying the statement with a drunken burp. I swear this Fulkari is going to be the death of me. The two were shocked at the idea, sitting before the owner of the ship that led them to safety. Zikee was completely stunned by the claim and stuttered to respond. “Y-You’re telling me… T-That you’re the owner of the Jaskivan yacht?! That’s insane! You must enjoy browsing the exotic side of the market! Regardless of the ship itself, you have no idea how grateful I am for you saving us!” She scuttered over to Kazzi to go about shaking her hand and conveying appreciation. The Fulkari woman was able to at bare minimum reply with equal appreciation, even if her words were slurred.
It was amusing to see, but turning to Bocc on the other side gave a completely different look. Something that seemed like a crack in the sort of shy and stoic personality which Zikee advertised. Their tone was one of barely contained anger, shrouded in annoyance. “So… were you the one that flew the ship? Or was it someone else?” Why he was asking that made me unnerved and concerned for my safety. I was the one who piloted the ship and did so in a way which tossed a few folks around, despite the prime conditions of the gravity generators. Was Bocc tossed about, and bitter about the condition that I inflicted upon him with my flying?
Kazzi was dismissive of the claim made by the T’ccoj, which caused the attention of the lithoid to shift onto me. T’ccoj’s didn’t have any sort of face, let alone a head. Despite this inability to convey emotion in a traditional manner, I could see in the way the Bocc composed himself that they were ticked off over something. “Was it you then?” They asked me, with a glare despite not having eyes. It terrified me to answer truthfully, because I was the helm throughout that whole escape. I was once a military man, serviced upon a warship during the outbreak of the GA-Foretold War. Even during the days of service, a loose cannon was the best way to describe my performance at the helm. For better or for worse, I was one to fly in a manner that could only contribute to great insanity.
Flying which seemed to be a major tick in the metaphysical eyes of the T’ccoj before me. I twiddled my claws as I struggled to respond. However, my reaction was enough to provide more than enough evidence to my role during the escape. Evidence which was swiftly examined by the Lithoid, and which attributed to the T’ccoj slamming the robotic appendages they possessed onto the table in aggression. They stood in place as they brought a claw to point directly at my face as they spoke in a tone which clearly cited their annoyance. “Do you have any sort of awareness of how your flying strains the reactor?! I was needing to evacuate the powerplant because of the dangerous conditions that the reactor was reaching with the overclocking that you set upon the suffering machine! Yes, you got us out of that nightmare, but you in turn caused me to experience one in turn! Do you have any idea of how devastating it is as a reactor technician to watch such a tremendously important machine be abused by such reckless flying?!”
Kazzi and Zikee both exchanged glances as they coward away from the seething lithoid, Bocc was creating a bit of a scene with the passion behind their anger. I was able to piece together the story in my mind relatively quickly. Bocc was without doubt the one on the other end of the call that I had during the evacuation. Calling the power plant to prepare for the overclock when I did. It makes much more sense now, considering my actions did cause major stress upon the Prestigious Vow’s framework. I began to speak in a last ditch effort to explain myself to the T’ccoj.
“Bocc, please understand that anything less than the extremes that I was pushing upon the ship wouldn’t have gotten us through the warp gate the way we did. I did what I needed to in order to prevent any contact with enemy missiles, and pass through the warp gate through the collapse. I’m sorry for the stress I put on the ship, but there wouldn’t be a ship if I did anything less.” I stated, causing the T’ccoj to flinch for a moment. I could tell from the way Bocc held itself that they understood that I was right. Despite agreeing with me, they shivered in aggravated annoyance with me for my reckless piloting.
The Lithoid grunted and begrudgingly slumped back into their seat. They held their hands up to the peak of their torso, like how one would palm their face with their hands. Despite not having a head, it was clear whatever was in its place for Bocc was hung low. A great disdain was ever present, but one whose initial prominence was substituted with a current sulking. “That poor reactor…” I heard muffled by the T’ccoj as they struggled to cope with the damage to the machine. I could tell without doubt that this reactor technician took their position very seriously, almost viewing the reactor system as an extension of themselves.
Zikee seemed to scutter to her lithoid partner and rest a claw upon their shoulder, giving them comfort as they seemed to wallow in misery at the condition of the ship. I won’t lie, whilst it got out of the evacuation the least banged up, that meant very little considering all the other ships. Some of those husks shouldn’t have been flying, but they hung within the drydocks of the station, waiting to either be taken to repair yards or scrap yards alike. Most couldn’t afford to repair them like Kazzi, as such I anticipated many of them to be scrapped. That was probably something that ached the lithoid.
“You seem to have a great love and reverence for these kinds of things. Technology is something that you adore isn’t it?” I asked, garnering the attention of the T’ccoj. “Indeed so,” Bocc replied not soon after. “It’s technology that has allowed my people to become a true civilization. To be able to survive for more than a few simple fleeting hours. We exist as a testament to the wonders that such technology provides, as such I feel indebted to the machines that encompass the everyday lives of those loyal to the Assembly. I want to one day understand every modern technological marvel, to one day become more than a reactor technician and become a true inventor.”
I felt a sense of warmth at the rather pure dream, and huffed in amusement before properly speaking. “Your passion for this goal will attest to it coming to reality. I wish you well in achieving it.” The lithoid seemed to appreciate my words of affirmation, and shifted to a much less stiff composure. Bocc sighed synthetically through their vocalizer, before looking back at me to respond. “Thank you for such supporting words Kovvak. I’m… I’m sorry for speaking the way I did. Even though it was a personal reason, it was still unacceptable for me to speak so brashly.”
“That’s quite alright,” I added. “We can all lose sight of what’s important when clouded by heavy emotion. I’m sorry for the reckless flying, but at least you’re here to curse me for it now rather than being cursed to walk through the next life alone, right?” The Lithoid only chuckled at my words. “You are most correct. Maybe I gave you too little credit before… I’m glad to be shown otherwise now.”
“I have that effect on people.” I speak in a joking manner, one which warrants a laugh from Zikee and Bocc. Kazzi said nothing, blacking out rather easily after the alcohol in her system finally took control. I could only sigh at the Fulkari woman… She’s going to really need my help handling such a prominent hangover once all is said and done-
“Everyone listen,” I hear someone speak up from the bar. Causing my train of thought to shift tracks towards the source of the commotion. I wasn’t the only one to have their gaze pulled to this new source, Zikee and Bocc also did the same. The Kraviska hoisting herself to look over the back of the seat towards the bar, and the T’ccoj having their robotic eye lift up without having to move themselves. Kazzi is still blackout drunk from all the alcoholic influence she was subjected to at the moment.
What was a simple conversation between strangers turned into a strange situation as the bartender moved their appendage to show a remote, one with had their eyes fully trained on as they poked away at numerous buttons. The remote was one for the televisions, as they shifted to switch to CCNN, the Core Central News Network. The tv volumes also increased to ensure that this was the main attention grabber in the room. Whilst that was the case, I also looked outside to find that many of the overhead televisions and other such devices were being changed to shift to what seemed like breaking news. The CCNN showed their host news anchor speaking on the GA council head. The representatives of each of the Elder species of the entire organization were present. Each one standing before a podium being recorded by the camera which was transmitting across all channels. This was a PSA, a majorly important PSA given the presence of such important people being presented.
Already I knew well what this was about. After all, practically everyone here in the establishment was a victim of the tragedy. Majority on the station were all there on Fojhiam as it fell. Not everyone in the universe knew however. There were still many worlds in the GA, among outreaches that took around a full day of travel to achieve. The GA would only ever make announcements like this under certain conditions and never anything less.
All instances pertaining to massively influential events. Almost all of them are related to disasters…
The woman who stood in the middle podium was tall and lanky. A Svenoiraq, one of the eight founding species, and chairwoman of the galactic assembly’s council chambers. With three long and spindly fingers holding down firmly at the edges of the podium, her pale white skin glistened against the fabric backdrop of the set. A long neck and pale flat face, adorned with four binocular eyes and a vertical mouth. Chairman Ryu was the most powerful in the GA, and her presence at the PSA conference was no mistake.
“My fellow sapients”, she spoke in a calculated manner, with little emotion in her voice. Her eyes glazed over with an almost lifeless expression, magnified only by her monotone voice. “18 hours, 56 minutes, and fourteen seconds ago, we of the GA high command received an alert regarding unregistered fleet activity in the Fulkari home system. An unknown fleet of an origin that is both mysterious and obvious all the same. Before you, shall be shown what little footage we managed to recover from one of the military vessels that escaped the carnage. I beg you to avert the eyes of your children.”
A Holographic display formed behind the Elders, one that provided the perspective of a ship camera. Raw and unedited footage based on the condition of the camera. A small display was provided in the corner to monitor activity on a diverse and extensive sensor grid. One which remained inactive for what seemed like a concerning amount of time. It was choking with the amount of mental strain this silence caused. In all but a single nanosecond, the display shifted to show the sensor grid flaring alarming all about as a literal supernova worth of activity just spawned… instantaneously, lights flared and sensors went awry with panic. The sensor display on the left showed the size of the active Fulkari fleet compared to that of the enemy that just materialized in the system. And the difference was that of night and day. The Fulkari defenders all but a single atom to the cell of power that was the black fleet. It didn’t matter that those black ships seemed unshielded, the sheer amount of them was more than enough to overpower the Fulkari.
The camera gave all the more unease, as instantly, light from distant stars appeared almost snuffed from reality as the mass of forces blotted any room for light to weave through. Faint lights were visible, which conveyed a sense of primal hatred. Hatred with seared through space like hawking radiation from all but the smallest of singularities. This was only then followed by battle footage, of the enemy forces punched through the stationed defensive craft with beams of terrible firepower. Invisible powers that caused massive explosions upon the defending craft, grilling anyone unfortunate enough to not immediately die. All but a second later was all that it took for the camera to finally be struck, the station that it was attached to likely receiving critical damage. Footage only received by the crews working hastily to escape with all the data they could.
That was all that was recovered from the military craft, all we had as to the source of the Black fleet. A clue with no trail, a lead with no start… but despite the mysterious air to the whole situation, the source of this attack was as obvious as the light of day. With the chairwoman speaking up, the silence was much less heavy than a few seconds before.
“This recording received from one of the surviving members of the planetary Garrison was nowhere near enough to receive a definitive claim on who assaulted the Fulkari territories. As the ships which by all accounts seem to be AI automated, are unheard of in our collective spaces but the most likely theory is what we all suspect. My fellow sapients, such technology is foreign to us, outside of GA jurisdiction and influence. No force could be built within our space without our noticing, and such technology to simply appear in a fixed point in space exists in our collective. There’s only one source we can possibly theorize is the source of this attack. Until any further evidence is presented in spite of the assumption, it’s very much likely that The Foretold Survived… And have bided their time building up these mechanical forces.
“Such a theory, whilst unfounded, is terrifying to reminisce on, especially considering the implications. They were already dangerous without their hostilities to the GA… now more than ever we face a threat of an even greater magnitude. One that is to meet in full force… As such, we of the high council call upon the members of the GA to begin preparations to re-enter wartime production and prepare for total War. Now more than ever we must be ready, for time is no longer on our side.”
It certainly wasn’t…
…
I can’t help but think of how this is a fate that we’ve inflicted upon ourselves… do we really deserve this?
Maybe…

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.

It was just supposed to be another camping trip, like so many others we had gone on.
The town we live in isn't huge, but it does have a lot of woodland to explore. We live on the edge of what most people would call Appalachia and we’ve had more than one weird experience out there. Once, as my friends and I walked down the familiar trails, we smelled a strong and unpleasant scent. Brian thought it must have been a bear, but I’d smelled bear smells before. We’d had one winter under our back porch one year, and this was very different from the musty smell he had left when spring came.
Another time, while we were camping, we saw ghost lights in the woods. They were beautiful, red and blue and yellow and orange, and though Justin was afraid of them, I felt drawn to go to them and see them better. I knew better, though. Grandma had told all of us about the dangers of following the ghost lights and had assured us all that we wouldn’t like where they would take us.
“The lands of Fairy is beautiful, but also terrible for mortals to behold. They would make you young for the rest of your days, though that might not be as long as you might think.” She always said with an evil grin.
We’d heard whistling and strange growls, throaty yells, and strange birds, but none of it ever really scared me. The woods had always been a friendly place, a place of adventure, and I always looked forward to my time there. I never felt uneasy when I was within its borders, and as the four of us prepared to go back into the woods for another camping expedition, I was excited.
Brain’s brother had told him about an old trestle bridge deep in the woods and we all wanted to see it.
It was part of the old railroad, something that hadn’t run through the town in a long time. The tracks were still there, the old station too, but the trains had been mostly for passengers, and we had none these days. No one came in, no one left, and we had no industry for the trains to transport. All the wood we harvested went to the sawmill or the paper mill, and there was no need to transport it by rail. The trestle bridge hadn’t seen a train cross it in twenty years and spanned a small gorge in the middle of the forest. Brian said his brother claimed the bridge was where high school kids went to drink beer, and now that we were Freshmen, we should go out there too.
“He said it was a right of passage and that we should go see if the right had decided to leave us a gift out there.”
We didn’t know what sort of gift that would be, but we were all curious to see the bridge.
So, we told our parents we would be camping one weekend in April and took to the woods.
Brian and I were eager, talking about how cool it would be to see it, but Justin and Frank seemed hesitant. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Justin was hesitant, as he almost always was, and Frank was kind of ambivalent. We had met him last year at the start of ninth grade and he had made a pretty good addition to our trio. Frank wasn’t an avid hiker, but he liked to hang out in the woods and get a little high from time to time and that was good enough for us. He also brought outstanding camping snacks, so we were more than happy to hit the trails with him. I wasn’t certain there was a sleeping bag in that rucksack of his, but I could already hear the crinkle of chips and snack cakes within it.
“Any idea how far off this bridge is?” Justin asked, plodding along grumpily.
Justin didn’t mind hiking, but he wasn’t big on aimlessly wandering around in the woods. He had packed enough to make up for Frank’s lack of gear, and the tent poked up over his left shoulder. He was plodding along at the back of the group and I was sure we’d have to listen to a fair amount of complaining before we got there.
“My brother says it's about three miles into the woods, following the river until we come to the gorge. After that, it should be pretty easy to find.”
“And if your brother is playing a trick on us? If he’s just messing with us and we walk three hours into the woods for nothing?”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Then we have a fun little adventure to talk about when we go to college, don’t we?”
Justin grumbled about having to walk three miles into the woods, but we couldn’t have picked a better day for it. The weather was perfect, a slight breeze keeping the early summer heat at bay. The clouds overhead looked a little wet, but they were nowhere close. We’d have a nice camping trip this weekend, a nice little excuse to fish and relax and enjoy ourselves as we explored the old trestle. The woods around the town were full of things like that, and we’d explored old houses that had been retaken by the underbrush or abandoned vehicles that sagged amongst the leaves. When we were in seventh grade, we even found an old concrete culvert out there that led into an underground cave that looked a little spooky in the light of our flashlights.
The farther we walked, however, the less certain I was that the clouds wouldn’t be a problem. The deeper into the woods we went, the more the smell of rain surrounded us. Brian smelled it too, and our pace increased as we kept heading deeper into the forest. Maybe it was just a little rain, maybe it was just a short downpour, and maybe we could get past it before it soaked everything.
When the gorge came into view and I saw the rising, skeletal edifice of the trestle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is, boys,” Brian said, sounding surprised to have found it as well.
“Looks pretty wrecked,” Frank said, tossing the stub of a cigarette into the gorge, “We aren’t actually going up on that thing, are we?”
“Wel, ya,” Brian said, “That's kind of the whole reason we came, wasn’t it?”
“You might,” Frank said, “but I don’t care what kind of surprise is up there, I ain’t going.”
He had plenty of time to rethink his statement. Just because we had found the gully, didn’t mean we had made it to the trestle. The closer we got, the more I could see that, for its age, it really was in amazing shape. It was less skeletal than I had thought and looked more like a covered metal bridge. The underside of the trestle was a dark cave, the shadows thick and deep, and I really didn’t want to explore the underside unless we REALLY had to. Something about it made me uncomfortable, and as we got closer and closer to the base, the whole thing seemed to grow.
It was mid-afternoon when we finally made it, and Brian let his pack fall as he set about climbing at once.
“Uh, you don’t wanna set up camp first?” Justin asked, taking out his tent and tools for making a fire.
“I want to see the woods from up there,” Brian said, looking at me as if to ask if I was coming.
I let my own pack side off and we climbed the side of the trestle side by side. We were laughing as the ground got farther and farther away, the girders lifting us above the trees until we finally crested the top and came to the old tracks of the railroad. I was full of wonder as I looked out over the woods, the trestle spanning the entire gorge before slanting back down to the woods again. From up here, the clouds looked very dark, and I wondered if the tent would be enough to keep us from getting wet.
“Check this out,” Brian said, dangling his feet over the side as he looked down into the gorge.
Watching him made me slightly dizzy, and I didn’t dare join him on the precipice.
When he came back up, however, he had a rope with him and nodded me over to help him pull it up. It wasn’t really heavy, but we were careful not to get it stuck on anything. Brian left me to pull so he could look over the edge and reported that the rope was attached to an old, red cooler. As it came up and over the edge, I saw that the rope was attached to the handle and the whole thing was the red of a kid's wagon left out in the sun. The box was ancient, the bystander of a thousand summer outings, and there was something inside it.
Brian opened the lid and smiled as he pulled out a lukewarm six-pack of Natty Ice, a brand I was passing familiar with. Dad, a staunch Budweiser man, had always shook his head and called it “pisswater” when he saw it on sale, but I figured for a bunch of kids who were barely old enough to buy beer the price was probably right. I assumed Brian’s brother had put it there, he had told us where to find the trestle bridge, after all, and as Brian fished the note out from under them, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Brian, this is a place where high schoolers have come to drink and hang out for generations. Our own mom and dad sat on this bridge and drank when they were in High school, and now it’s your turn. I spotted you a sixer this time, but you’ll have to bring your own next time. If you ever have extra, leave them in this cooler and then tuck the cooler back under the trestle bridge. Also, don’t go under the bridge, we think there might be a bear under there. Kevin.”
The thought of a bear so close to our campsite kind of scared me, but Brian brushed it off.
“He’s probably just messing with us. Want one?” he asked, popping the top on one as he offered me another one.
I hesitated. I’d never drank before, but I figured just one wouldn’t kill me. It was warm and tasted terrible, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had. Brian drank his quick, laughing as he threw the can into the gorge far below. We watched it spiral down, spilling the last few remaining drops before it clinked weakly on the bottom.
As if in answer, there was a distant rumble of thunder, and from our vantage point we saw the lightning crack in the distance.
We were on a big metal structure with lightning coming in quick and rain already pattering lightly around us.
“We better go,” I said, Brian looking at the lightning as it rumbled again. He nodded and we decided to run down the tracks rather than try to scale back down. It would mean doubling back, but it wouldn’t be a long trip, and the thought of juggling the rest of the beers and trying to climb down sounded nuts. Brian was holding the four of them close as he ran, smiling to himself as he talked about showing them to the guys.
“Justin will flip!” Brian said with an evil laugh, “You know he still won’t even be around anyone who smokes because of that dumb DARE pledge?”
He was right too. Justin was furiously hammering in tent pegs when we arrived, looking up at the sky every time a drop hit him. He stopped, though, when he noticed us come back with cans that clearly weren’t soda. Frank must have recognized them because he laughed and commented that they had found a pretty cool surprise. Brian tossed him one, turning to Justin as he offered him one too.
Justin put his hands on his hips, looking like my mother when she was disappointed in me.
“Hell no, and you shouldn’t either. Why would you just drink something you found on a rickety bridge?
Brian blew out a long breath and popped open another one, “Because, spaz, my brother left them for us. There was a note and everything, so cool your jets.”
Justin went back to work, mumbling darkly about being reckless and drinking things that could be poisoned or drugged.
The tent came up, and not a moment too soon. The rain was really starting to come down, and it looked like there would be no fire tonight. We all headed into the tent, the wind picking up as it shoved at the tent and made the ropes and pegs groan. It was big enough to fit us all comfortably, and as the lamps came out, Brian held up the last two beers.
"Split the last two?" he asked, everyone but Justin agreeing. We poured them into our camp cups, starting to clink them together before Brian turned to Justin. He was pretending to busy himself with something in the corner, but it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what we were doing.
"Come on, Justin, it's not gonna hurt you. I tell you what, if we see you become an alcoholic after one sip, we'll push you into the gorge and save you the embarrassment."
"Not funny," Justin said, but we had clearly worn him down. After another half-hearted refusal, he finally held his cup out to Justin who grinned as he poured the last of the beer into it. Then we clinked our glasses together and drank, everyone pulling a face which we laughed at. As the storm raged outside we ate some MREs we had packed just in case of bad weather and started on ghost stories. Brian was just telling us about a man with a hungry ghost in his basement when a big gust of wind hit the tent hard enough to collapse the middle brace and send it crashing down on us.
We floundered for a minute, looking for the zipper as we tried to escape, and finally stepping out into the driving rain. It was still afternoon, the sun an angry line amidst the storm clouds, and I turned as I heard someone struggling with the tent. Justin was trying to pull it, the wind threatening to take it from him with every gust.
"Come on," he shouted, "Help me get it under the trestle. It should work as a windbreak."
I remembered the warning about a bear, but Brian just shouted back that it was either the bear or the rain.
"Besides," he said, "If we see one, we'll just run like hell."
It was hard to argue with him while the rain was coming down, so we all grabbed a tent post and moved it into the dry cave created by the trestle. Unlike a lot of train trestles I had seen in movies and TV shows, this one was enclosed. I'm still not sure why, but it worked out well for us that day. We knocked in the tent pegs and sat in the tent as we watched the rain come down in buckets outside. Our stuff had gotten a little wet, but we hadn't brought anything that couldn't take a little water. As the light gave way to dark, we started breaking out our lanterns and cards, settling in for the night as we listened to the rain.
As I lay there watching Justin and Brian play their fourth or fifth game of Magic the Gathering, I started hearing something besides the rain. It was a deep rumbling, like something snoring deep under the metal bridge. I thought again about Brian's brother telling us there was a bear under there. I didn't want to get eaten by a bear in my sleep, and if we were going to have to move again, it was better to know now.
I took out my flashlight and started looking into the shadowy depths of the trestle, but there was nothing to be seen. There was some very thick-looking mud under here, some of it having made little stalagmites on the ground, but I couldn't see anything sleeping under there. It wouldn't make a very good den, I reflected as I shone my light around. It was open on both sides with the gorge coming in about thirty feet from our tent. There was really nowhere for anything to live down here, but as I swung the light from right to left, I could still hear that weird breathing.
On a whim, I pointed it up and under the bridge, and that was when I saw it.
At first, I thought it was a bunch of bats clustered together, but when it flinched under the beam of my light, I knew it was just one big thing. It was a huge bat, maybe bigger than me, with its large, leathery wings pulled up tight around it. It was clinging to the bottom of the trestle bridge, and I imagine it had been a bad spot to hang when the trains still ran. I spotted a slight movement to its left and found a second one hanging not far from it. In total, there were four of them, and when one of them shifted its wings to look down at me with a red, unhappy eye, I turned off the flashlight and zipped up the tent.
The guys had some strong words when I started turning off the lanterns, but I told them to be quiet and get down.
"What?" Frank asked, "Did you see something out there?"
"Was it the bear?" Brian asked, keeping his voice low as we hunkered doen.
"What bear?" Justin asked, but I waved a hand at them, trying to get them to be quiet.
"It's not bear," I hissed, but about that time, there was a weird sound from outside.
It sounded like a high-pitched yawn as something came awake followed by the rustle of wings. The talk in the tent had ceased now, and you could have heard a mouse fart. In the dark of the undercroft, we heard something huge and leathery take flight, rustling the canvas of the tent as it left the darkness. A second took flight a moment after, and I heard water cascade down as it shook the top of the trees. We all lay on our stomachs, panting for breath as we listened for more.
I had seen four, and only two had left so far.
When something hit the ground about a foot from our tent, Justin had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. The hushed remnants squeaked from between his fingers like a deflating balloon, but if the creature heard it, it never showed any sign. I could see the vague outline of it as it rose to its full height, and as it flapped its wings and took flight, the tent rustled like it had in the wind.
"Is that all of them?" Brian asked, three sets of eyes turning my way.
I started to tell them there had been a fourth, but that was when the fourth fell on top of the tent. We were very lucky, all things considered. It landed right in the middle of the tent, shattering the plastic pole and sending the plastic material down around us. The creature's toenails scrabbled across it noisily as it tried to find purchase, and when it took off I was afraid it would simply carry us off with it. Instead, it just ripped a hole in the top as it flew off, all of us still reeling as we lay under the canvas.
After a few minutes, it was decided that we would take our sleeping bags and our packs and leave the tent behind.
We spent a miserable night huddled under the biggest tree we could find. We probably looked like fat cata pillars as we hunkered against the roots of the big tree, but we were as dry as we could manage. We all kept looking towards the skies, afraid the giant bat things would come after us, but they never did. We didn't talk, we didn't dare, and when the sun came up, we made our way out of the woods. We arrived at my house cold, scared, and unwilling to talk about what we had seen. My parents probably thought we had run afoul of something like a bear or a cougar, but they had no idea.
That was about two weeks ago, and we haven't been back in the woods since. Just knowing that those things are in the woods makes us not want to be there after dark. It's a shame because the woods were our spot, our sanctuary, and now it seems tainted. Brian doesn't even leave the house after sunset these days, and Justin looks at the sky when he's walking. Frank says he doesn't really want to talk about it, and I think he's stoned a lot of the time.
I dream about it sometimes, the way that one big red eye looked at me when I shone the flashlight on it, and I can't help but wonder what something that big eats?
I think it will be a good long time before I talk any of them back into the woods, and our camping days may be at an end.