This thread is about to be very long, and I will be adding to it frequently, but this is how I would write season 3 of Euphoria since Sam is obviously preoccupied with god knows what. This came to me in a dream so call it fate ig.
Background- since season 2 ends with the card that Rue stayed sober through the rest of junior year, and Lexi’s play takes place in the spring, I thought it’d be best to pick up on the first day of their senior year in the fall. This means that Cassie, Maddie, and Nate have all graduated, leaving us with Rue, Jules, Lexi, Elliot, Bobbi, Ethan, BB & Kat. Also Gia, the Parents, and Ali. Anyways here goes.
Episode 1- I Stayed Sober (Mostly)
[Scene 1]: The Last First Day Episode One opens with a black screen that has flashes of red and blue, like police sirens, that increasingly become more intense and vibrant, to indicate Rue coming out of a dissociative state. She narrates over the screen:
“You want to know the worst part about staying sober? It’s not the withdrawals or the cravings, even though they’re pretty fucking bad. It’s not even the depression or the emptiness you feel without your poisonous security blanket protecting you from your worst thoughts and emotions. The worst part about staying sober, is that you’re trapped back in the fucked up world that made you want to do drugs in the first place”
The red and blue screen shifts to police sirens with cops yelling in an attempt to evacuate everyone from the school. It’s raining and the sky is gray and muddy. All the students are now wearing muted uniforms in the school colors, blue black and white (the uniforms are explained later) The scene looks very muted and drained. As the students flood out of the school in a frenzy, we see Rue and Lexi standing at the exit, uninterested in the theatrics and significantly changed from last season.
Rue has a brighter disposition to herself, appearing more soft and bright, while keeping her moody demeanor. Her look shows that she is trying her best to be more optimistic, despite going through hell from her plethora of mental illness that have now taken over due to her sobriety. Still, she looks healthier and brighter.
Lexi, on the other hand, has a more goth like appearance. In addition to her new dark black hair with red colored streaks (red to signify her stepping into her power) she also looks less approachable with more gothic motifs such as skulls and roses on her increased accessories. We learn later that this is an attempt to reinvent herself after last year’s play incident and fez dying. She seems uninterested and annoyed, but has a more confident air after being put in the spotlight and no longer having to live under her sisters shadow. She has become more monotone, speaking her mind and embracing her realistic perspective of life.
They begin walking to the parking lot, looking for Lexi’s mom among the waves of chaotic students pushing past them.
Rue: Of course, just our fucking luck that someone decides to shoot up the school our first day of senior year.
Lexi: It wasn’t even a real shooting. I heard some kid brought a gun to show off and got tackled by his teacher. Everyone started freaking out, and now I’m missing the first day of my AP English class.
Rue: Not like you need it. I think you proved that you can write a good story that makes waves and changes lives (sarcasm)
Lexi: 😐 that’s not funny Rue. That play is all anyone could talk about all summer. Everyone hates me because they think it’s my fault that we all have to wear these stupid uniforms.
Rue: actually that was Cassie’s fault, that fight got a new edit every week. My favorite was the #mollywhop dance (starts doing a dance that is significant of Maddie slapping Cassie and Cassie riding a carousel)
Lexi: Rue I’m serious. I got so sick of living in the background that I put my entire life on display in front of all of East Highland just for my sister to make everything about her.
Rue: Well good writing is supposed to be controversial. And take it as a victory, at least you’re not a nobody anymore.
Random Guy: Hey Lexi, I got a horse you can ride (does the dance)
Cop: Keep it moving sir!
They get to the end of the parking lot and sit on the pavement.
Lexi: 🙄of course she’s late.
Rue: hey, it’s a new year. You’re no longer the girl whose sister was the hottest cheerleader in school and I’m no longer the resident drug addict that everyone is waiting to die.
Lexi: you’re right. That’s Elliot. Or Jules. Have you checked on either of them since his overdose?
Rue: no…fuck them both. They seem happy in their stupid relationship with their stupid anniversary posts. I had to block them both before I killed myself or worse. They can die for all I care.
Lexi: well he almost did. I heard he had a stroke and is in a wheelchair until he learns how to walk again.
Rue: trying to hide that she’s concerned really?…i mean i don’t care, but that’s what he deserves right? Can’t do drugs that carelessly without consequences. Ask me how I know.
Lexi: I don’t think anyone deserves to OD. I hope he gets some help.
Rue: he has help, that bitch is playing housewife which she probably loves. Attention seeking whore. You know I’m sick of talking about Jules and Elliot and Cassie and every other narcissist with a victim complex that keeps trying to make themselves the main character. pulls her closer with a shoulder hug this year it’s about us. Starting over and getting a chance to finally make it out of this stupid town. You have colleges lined up at the door and I’ve been sober for almost a year. No one is going to take this year from us. That why you blocked Cassie, and that’s why I had any memory of Jules permanently erased from my brain. Out of sight out of mind.
Lexi: I guess you’re right. New year, new us.
Rue: alright. Now call your mom so we can get out of the rain. I hate cops more than I hate being fully clothed and wet.
Lexi: (finally smiling) almost as much as they hate you
Rue: hey fuck you, I still have to go to court for that.
Lexi: too soon? 🤭
Rue: just dial the fucking phone
Rue [vo while it shows Suze driving up and the girls walking across the parking lot]: Despite how terrible last year was, I feel like Lexi and I finally got back to how things used to be. Before the drugs, before the funerals. Just Rue and Lexi like it’s always been. Sometimes I forget how great life was when I was just a kid. But drugs tend to take away everything that makes life, life. I just wish Fezco had stayed alive long enough to finally see me sober. Then maybe Lexi wouldn’t be so serious and emo these days. But she took care of me, and now it’s my turn. I just don’t know what’s worse, losing the love of your life before you get a chance to say it love you (shot of Lexi rubbing a cross chain fez gave her looking at the sky before getting in the car) or thinking you found the love of your life just to end up as strangers. (As Rue opens the door to get in, she sees Jules wheeling Elliot across the parking lot. She stares for a bit before getting in the car.) Either way, we all died. (Rue gets in the car before Jules can see her.)
Jules looks over at the car but doesn’t see anyone. She looks distraught, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rue, who she hasn’t seen since the play. She’s dressed in a mostly black school girl uniform with a short skirt and corset that she’s clad in neon accessories and coquettish garters and bows. Her hair is longer than in season 2 but shorter than season 1. This is to signify that she’s embracing her femininity more with Elliot, but is stepping into a more powerful, dominant version of femininity. She’s content with her relationship, and rebuilding herself after the abuse she endured in relationship with rue. Now she’s just worried about repeating the same story with Elliot. She looks off into the distance, paused in a state of reflection.
Elliot: babe are you good? Jules: what? Yea just thought I saw something. (Continues wheeling him across the parking lot) Elliot: It was probably a ghost. HEY CASPER, LOOK BUT DONT TOUCH HOMIE Jules: (laughing) you’re so unserious Elliot: what do you mean? I’m serious. I don’t want his ectoplasm fucking up your makeup. Jules: You’re the one who keeps fucking up my makeup Elliot: and I’ll do it again kisses her winces ow fuck Jules: relax dude. You know the doctor said you can’t stretch your spine much after your stroke. Elliot: and you know I told that doctor nothing can kill me and I’m basically a god Jules: even when you’re sick you’re still crazy Elliot: crazy for you Jules: yea yea, just be happy it was a stroke and not a death sentence. whispers in his you know if you would’ve died I would have to kill you. Elliot: besides the fact that that makes zero sense, you know it wasn’t my fault Jules: I’m just glad that Laurie lady got put behind bars. Who the fuck puts fentanyl in Weed? Elliot: a plug who can’t find enough junkies to buy their fentanyl. That’s why I always sniff my weed before I smoke it. Jules: and that sniff put you in a wheelchair, so who’s god now? Elliot: mmmm, still me. I live close enough to the school that I don’t have to pay for a van, and I have a hot chick with a huge dick as a nurse. Not to mention loads of settlement money from suing the biggest plug in our area and a med card with all the unlaced weed I can smoke. I’m up as fuck. Jules: or too high to be traumatized Elliot: And (dances her around his chair like a waltz until she falls in his lap) my dick still works. Jules: nice try Romeo, but your ego is showing (zips up his pants and continues pushing) Elliot: fuck, has it been like that all day? That’s embarrassing Jules: no more embarrassing than the whole school thinking you’re in a wheelchair because you couldn’t hold your oxys Elliot: it was Percs actually, thank you very much. And fuck what those bots think, I’ve been sober since that intervention. I guess you can say Rue knocked some sense into Me. Jules: (avoiding the topic of rue) did you see the comments on our last post, they called us percinstein and the coke bride Elliot: damn I guess they did know it was Percs (Now on his front porch)
Jules: (standing in front of him looking in his eyes with sentiment ) Elliot I’m serious. I’ve been the topic of conversation ever since I moved to this fucking town. I just want to have a normal year for once in my complicated life. Elliot: babe listen it’s high school. Everything is the topic of conversation and no one is normal. People talk shit because they’re bored and have no personality or sense of self outside of the useless drama they can create in their minds. But you have a life, and a future. You have an amazing, sober boyfriend who loves you and a portfolio that can get you into any art school in the world. You’re at the last step before your real life begins. I’m just happy that I have the privilege to watch. And you know I like to watch. Jules: you’re a lunatic. Elliot: I love you. Jules: I love you too. kiss
Elliot: Are you sure you can’t stay tonight Jules: I wish, but my dad is serious about making sure I get into the best school, which means spending hours look at boring virtual tours and applying early admission. Elliot: ok well I’ll be here figuring out how to pee without standing up Jules: how do our conversations always center back to your dick Elliot: I can’t talk about anything else, it’s too hard Jules: wow, you sound like my dad and I’m turned off [starts walking away] Elliot: it’s not me it’s the weed. now you make sure you make it home safe. There’s a shooter on the loose. Jules: [grabbing her bike] the gun wasn’t even loaded. besides, getting shot would not be the worst thing to happen to me. Elliot: you’re American. It always gets worse. Jules: [riding off] that’s depressing Elliot: text me when you’re home Jules: [almost gone] you have my location! Elliot: [to himself] and I still never know where you are

for context, i’m in tenth grade
next year is my junior prom, the my senior prom the next.
i have no friends :) i’ve never had a boyfriend, i sit alone at lunch, and kinda just keep to myself (also im bullied for being trans lol) - i’ve made some friends, joined some clubs, but they’re either incredibly superficial or outright betray me (got assaulted by my mentally ill “best friend” in my own bed lol)
i know for a fact im not going / gonna get asked. yesterday, i went to the park for some relaxation and finals studying - when there just happened to be a huge prom photoshoot that day. everyone in theyre amazing outfits, hair done up beautifully, tuxes, shoes.
but the worst part, they all had friends and family around for their pictures.
me and my family have a very damaged relationship. i was always the forgotten cousin and my mom recently just kicked me out of the house (depression lol)
on every forum i’ve read, people always say… “don’t miss prom, just go with you’re friends! - go with a group! ask you’re best friend! go alone and socialize! you’re gonna regret it!”
why would i wanna go mingle with people who don’t even like me and make fun of (and attempt to assault) me? lol
loneliness sucks…
hey alexa, play prom dress by mxmtoon

For those in Blacksburg, here's a rundown of some of this weekend's top events that you can enjoy:
Weekend Rundown of Fun: 1. Beer Tasting with Eastern Divide Vintage Cellar, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 4:00 - 7:00 PM Admission: Free Vintage Cellar welcomes Brandon from Blacksburg's own Eastern Divide Brewing Company for a special beer tasting event. Must be ages 21 and older to participate. IDs are required. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777423
2. Pearisburg Community Market 2024 Kickoff with Music at the Market ft. Music from Ride'n Shotgun Band Pearisburg Community & Recreation Center, Pearisburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 5:30 - 7:30 PM Admission: Free The Pearisburg Community Market kicks off their 2024 Music at the Market series featuring the Ride'n Shotgun Band performing . Join them on the front lawn at the Community Center for live music, a variety of unique vendors, get a bite to eat from the Simple Fixins food truck, Hope Church NRV's Hamburger Camp Fundraiser and dessert from Dough Dees or Kimmies Kandy. In addition there will be a free art activity for kids. The Ride'n Shotgun Band is five-member band based in southwest Virginia playing popular country and rock music. Bring a chair or blanket to enjoy. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777443
3. Friday Nights at the Farm with Music from Celie Holmes and Black Coffee Beliveau Farm Winery, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Join Beliveau in welcoming a special musical guest every Friday night with live music from 6:30 PM to 8:30 PM and sing along to all of your favorite classics. Celie Holmes and Black Coffee perform a well-rounded repertoire of jazz standards, R&B, light rock and more and are based in Virginia. Enjoy food from Beliveau's full service kitchen until 8:30 PM and chat over a glass of wine during their extended bar hours until 9:00 PM. Get a $5 Beliveau Buck to use during your next visit for every $50.00 you spend on Friday nights from 6:00-9:00 PM. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777448
4. Dirt Road Breakdown in Concert Rising Silo Farm Brewery, Blacksburg Friday, May 17, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Lee Worley and Bob Chew bring you swamp rocking Americana and classic honky tonk plus originals and enough rock and rockabilly to keep your feet a jumping. This unique duet we'll have you thinking it is a full four-piece band. Drawing from North Mississippi Allstars, Tom Petty, CCR, Black Keys, Muddy Waters, Jack White, Robert Johnson, John Lee Hooker, Rolling Stones, and more. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777072
5. May Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Session Newport Community Center, Newport Friday, May 17, 2024, 7:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free The Newport Community Center presents the Third Friday May Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Session. Bring your instruments and join us for a night of bluegrass and old time music in the cafeteria at the Newport Community Center. This is a family friendly event. Hotdogs, chili, cornbread and BBQ will be available for purchase. The Bluegrass & Old Time Jam Sessions are a monthly event that occur on the first and third Fridays of each month from 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777005
6. Indoor Movie Night featuring The Greatest Showman Chateau Morrisette, Floyd Friday, May 17, 2024, 7:00 - 8:45 PM Admission: Free Chateau Morrisette presents an Indoor Movie Night featuring "The Greatest Showman". Bring the kids and join us for a special evening at the winery with free popcorn. Wine and cheese boards will also be available for purchase. The 2017 biography and musical drama "The Greatest Showman" is rated PG and stars Hugh Jackman, Michelle Wiliams and Zac Efron. Film Synopsis: Celebrates the birth of show business and tells of a visionary who rose from nothing to create a spectacle that became a worldwide sensation. Note: Due to the expected rain, the movie has been moved inside instead of the planned outdoor film. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777279
7. Sarai Sibeal and Alliens in Concert Dogtown Roadhouse, Floyd Friday, May 17, 2024, 8:00 - 11:00 PM Admission: $10.00 Join Dogtown for a fantastic night with two acts that will get you moving. Sarai Sibeal will open the show and will be accompanied by Cameron McLaughlin on bass, Willis Greenstreet on guitar, Janiah Allen on drums, John Pence on keys, and Vladimir Espinosa on percussion for this show. Sarah Bowles, also known as Sarai Sibeal, is a native Roanoker. Merging electro-soul with R&B and world music influences, Sarah crafts a mesmerizing fusion of sound that captivates and engages the audience. Alliens is a powerful Caribbean-funk, world groove sensation led by brothers Jamiel and Janiah Allen that merges diverse world rhythms into a magnetic musical tapestry. The band effortlessly blends rock, reggae, funk, ska, Caribbean soca, electronica, cumbia, and more, creating an infectious sound that defies borders. A cross-cultural blend of sound is rooted deep in their souls from growing and living in foreign lands. Top it off with conscious multi-lingual lyrics and sweet trio harmonies and you get an experience that moves mind, body and soul. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777458
8. 2024 Braveheart 5K Run / Walk Bisset Park, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 7:00 - 11:00 AM Admission: $35.00 Run the the fastest 5k course in the New River Valley and support the American Heart Association in the process courtesy of Runabout Sports and Carilion Clinic. Race day registration is from 7:00-8:00 AM and the 5k starts at 8:30 AM. This race runs along the beautiful New River for its entirety. The course is flat, fast and perfect for setting a personal best or running your first 5k. Participants can register in person at Runabout Sports within the First & Main Shopping Center or online. Awards will be awarded to fastest runners by gender and age group. As part of the Runabout Sports 2024 Race series, you will accumulate points towards overall and age group series awards. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777394
9. 2024 Pearisburg Junior Woman’s Club Junior Jamboree Pearisburg Community & Recreation Center, Pearisburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 9:00 AM - 2:00 PM Admission: Free Donut Dash: Ages 3 & Up: $5.00, Ages 2 & Under: Free The Pearisburg Junior Woman’s Club (PJWC) will be hosting its 2nd Annual Junior Jamboree featuring a wide variety of events. The fun starts off with the Donut Dash from 9:00-10:00 AM in front of the basketball courts and is open to all ages. Participants will stroll along the park trail with tasty donut stops along the half mile trail. They will make their way to the pavilion where gourmet donuts and coffee await. All proceeds from the Donut Dash will help fund the expansion of Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library in Giles County. At 10:00 AM, artists, crafters, local organizations and food trucks will be set up on the lawn of the Pearisburg Community Center. Additionally, enjoy live entertainment from the Giles County School of Dance at 11:00 AM, followed by Dance Motion performing at noon and closing out the entertainment at 1:00 PM is The Honey Drops. The Honey Drops are a young trio of singers (Aubrey Adkins, Ella Butler, and Ky Fury), ages 14, 15, and 16, based out of West Virginia. Their influences are broad, from Fleetwood Mac to the Killers and the Wailin’ Jennys to show tunes. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777273
10. The Little Event (Litter Clean Up) Iron Tree Brewing Company, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 9:00 - 10:00 AM First Beer is 50% Off After Turning In Full Bag of Trash from Little Clean Up Join Iron Tree, Community Pizza, The Grill, and Baking is for lovers for a litter clean up event. Stop by Baking is for Lovers or Iron Tree Brewing between 9:00-10:00 AM to grab an empty grain bag and gloves. Then drive to your favorite park, neighborhood or hang around the brewery and fill up the bag with trash. Then bring the grain bag full of trash back to Iron Tree or The Grill for disposal and grab some lunch and a beverage. Participants, who fill a trash bag and turn it in, will receive 50% off their first beer at Iron Tree. Baking is for Lovers offers 10% off any item, Gardner's Frozen Treats and Gardner’s Frozen Treats will offer 20% off one treat and Gardner's Grill will offer 20% off one entree and Community Pizza will be doing 20% off any pizza during dinner service. The event is rain or shine. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777489
11. 2024 Spring Repair Cafe Habitat for Humanity ReStore, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 10:00 AM - 2:00 PM Admission: Free The New River Valley Timebank and the Habitat for Humanity ReStore presents the 2024 Spring Repair Cafe. Stop by the ReStore for free repairs including sewing for clothes & more, small furniture & appliances, electronics, knife sharpening, plant repotting and more. A Repair Cafe is a free event that promotes repair as an alternative to tossing things out. Give new life to your cherished items. The New River Valley Master Gardener Association will hold a plant clinic in addition to providing assistance to repotting plants (bring your own pots & soil). The New River Valley TimeBank is a project of New River Valley Home, a non-profit that works to foster vibrant, lifespan-friendly communities by connecting people, resources and organizations. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777480
12. Fish Fry Fundraiser New Mount Olive United Methodist Church, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM Fish Dinner: $13.00, Fish Sandwich: $6.00, One Piece of Whiting Fish: $3.50 Enjoy a fish fry including your choice of a Fish Dinner, Fish Sandwich or One Piece of Whiting Fish. The Fish Dinner includes two pieces of Whiting Fish, Baked Beans, Coleslaw, Roll and Dessert for $13.00. The Fish Sandwich includes one piece of Whiting Fish on a bun and coleslaw for $6.00. One piece of Whiting Fish is $3.50. A portion of the proceeds will go to the Richie Delaney Memorial Fund to benefit his children. On January 16th, Richard Delaney of Delaney's Kitchen, a restaurant in Fairlawn, passed away unexpectedly. As this is a tough time emotionally on the whole family, it is especially a tragic situation for Richard's three young children. Orders can be called in as well. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777481
13. BrewRidge Music Festival 2024 Mountain Lake Lodge, Pembroke Saturday, May 18, 2024, 12:00 - 5:00 PM General Admission: $20.00, Beer Tasting Tickets: $35.00 Celebrate Virginia craft breweries on Top of the World at Mountain Lake Lodge's 2024 BrewRidge Music Festival. Join them for a day filled with great music, delicious brews, and beautiful views. They will have an array of Virginia microbreweries and musical performances by local old-time Appalachian and bluegrass artists Tennessee Hillbuddies from 12:00-2:00 PM and Jim and Val Gabehart from 2:30-4:30 PM. Concessions will be available for purchase cash only including BBQ, burgers and brats during event. Beer tasting tickets include five full beers. Lodging Packages are also available which includes one night's lodging. Note: This event is cash only for day of event purchases. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=776811
14. Blacksburg Mini Comic-Con B&B Theatres Blacksburg 11, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 12:00 - 5:00 PM Admission: Free Costumes are encouraged and prizes will be handed out throughout the day. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777442
15. Dungeons & Dragons One-Shot Adventure for Ages 8 & Up Blacksburg Library, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 1:00 - 4:00 PM Admission: Free Learn to play Dungeons & Dragons with a one-time adventure. All supplies provided. The time commitment will be about three hours. Children ages 8 and up are welcome with an accompanying adult. Admission is free though registration is required. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777474
16. The Art of Happiness: Bubble Prints Montgomery Museum of Art & History, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 2:00 - 3:30 PM Admission: Free The Montgomery Museum of Art & History presents the third program of The Art of Happiness 2024 series titled "Adopting Animal Characteristics through Clay". The Montgomery Museum of Art & History is bringing back "The Art of Happiness" during May, which is Mental Health Awareness Month. The month long series of events offer self-help coping tactics and strategies by using art exhibits, materials, and spaces as helpful tools to address emotional well-being. On May 18th, the program is "Bubble Prints". Creating calming and fun watercolor-like prints from paint-filled bubbles. Admission is free and all materials will be provided by the museum though registration is required. For adults 18 and older only. No art experience is needed. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=775917
17. Documentary Fundraiser: Butterfly In The Sky Lyric Theatre, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 3:00 - 4:30 PM Admission: $5.00 Enjoy the award-winning documentary "Butterfly In The Sky" about the PBS children's show "Reading Rainbow". Inspiring and nostalgic, "Butterfly in the Sky" tells the tale of a revolutionary reading movement. Reliving the show’s legacy is a refreshing return to the written page. But you don’t have to take our word for it. It will be a fantastic afternoon celebrating books and the love of reading with representatives taking registrations for the Imagination Library program, along with Take and Make Craft bags and information on Summer Reading Programs from the Blacksburg Public Library, a Children's Books Pop-Up and gift card raffle from Blacksburg Books, and a special presentation from Storytime with Joelle. Ticket sale proceeds benefit Dolly Parton's Imagination Library of Montgomery County for local children. Tickets will be available in-person before the film or in advance online. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=77748818. May Flashlight Tour St. Albans, Radford Saturday, May 18, 2024, 5:30 - 7:30 PM Admission: $20.00 St. Albans presents their May Flashlight Tour with registration at 5:30 PM and the tour from 6:00-7:30 PM. The Flashlight Tour is guided and includes a little history and paranormal in one. Hear all the chilling tales of what paranormal investigators, and the public, have encountered within these 120 year old walls. A little bit of history, a little bit of paranormal. Tickets are available online in advance and will be sold at the door provided tickets are still available. Wear comfortable shoes and bring a flashlight as there will be lots of walking and many dark areas. Dress accordingly as the building is not climate controlled. You must be 18 years of age (16 if accompanied by a parent or legal guardian). The monthly Public Paranormal Investigation will occur from 8:00 PM - 1:00 AM with registration at 7:30 PM and is $35.00 for those interested. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777483 19. Spring Fed Roots in Concert Rising Silo Farm Brewery, Blacksburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Spring Fed Roots performs music rooted in the mountains of Southwest Virginia, nourished by the waters and inspired by the beauty. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777073
20. Merchant Copy in Concert The Blue Hen - Family Style Restaurant, Christiansburg Saturday, May 18, 2024, 7:00 - 10:00 PM Admission: $10.00 Merchant Copy is a classic rock & roll and blues band based in Roanoke, VA playing hits from the 70s and 80s. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777441
21. Free Appraisal Day Cambria Station Antiques, Christiansburg Sunday, May 19, 2024, 1:00 - 4:00 PM Admission: Free Join Cambria Station Antiques for a free Appraisal Day to find out what your family heirloom, antiques or vintage items are worth. Valley Auctions, LLC will be on site providing feedback and written appraisals. Guests are limited to one item per person with only small antiques or collectibles. Larger items can be appraised from multiple high quality photos and item dimensions instead of in person. No jewelry at this time. The event is first come, first serve. Note: Some items may require additional research, so appraisals may be sent after the event. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=777457
For the live music line-up, visit: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEvents.cfm?ET=1
For all the rest of the big weekend events, visit: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEvents.cfm
Thanks for reading, have a great weekend and don't let the rain stop your fun!

TLDR; At 19, I decided to pursue entrepreneurship to build products that bring joy and contribute meaningfully to the world, inspired by my immigrant parents' sacrifices and success stories. My background includes a transformation from a game-obsessed teen to a driven entrepreneur. After a breakup during my sophomore year, I channeled my energy into learning new skills, losing weight, and starting my first company—a social network for goal sharing. Despite many mistakes and pivots, I gained invaluable experience. Now, I'm developing an app to connect early-stage entrepreneurs and am determined to succeed, even after recent setbacks with a cofounder leaving and an accelerator rejection. - ChatGPT

I'm 21 years old, and I'm turning 22 in a few months.
I decided less than two years ago to pursue entrepreneurship to build products that would make people so happy to use, so that I'll have made a genuinely valuable contribution to the growing world and flip my old hedonistic ways.
This is not one of those stories about bankruptcy to riches, but something more relatable for the young budding entrepreneur who has gone through a life changing event - it might seem naive to the more experienced who have been there done that, but real for us now.

Family Background

I come from a middle class family of immigrants who escaped their dictator-run country when they were in their 20's in hopes to put their child through college. They worked for over 25 years to scrimp and save the money for all four years of classes. My father started a wholesale furniture business with some brothers and $0 to their name in the deep countryside of Vietnam; 20 years later they're making three million in ARR and I'm proud of him. My mother is a senior accountant at a big firm, and was moved from foster family to foster family as a young teen to complete her associates degree at UMass Amherst.
I don't have that kind of a story, but I want it. I come from a more privileged place because of them, but I still yearn for my own success story that carries the same weight.

My Background

I was obsessed with playing video games. I was on the computer by 5am before the bus arrived at 7 to pick me up, and I was back on it for another few hours after school. During winter and summer breaks I would play all day every day. I was a fat, lazy, computer-addicted 200lb 5'7", chips-gulping kid, and I somehow was still able to get a girlfriend, haha.
It was 2020 in March when quarantine periods were announced. I had the idea to build an MMORPG Minecraft server (called SiegeRPG), and I learned a lot of skills in just one year: design, leadership, people management, java/kotlin programming, blender modeling, many more. By 2021 I lead a team of 60 volunteers, with 100k unique players and a few thousand in profits. I started my University's Minecraft club in my 2nd semester of college and quickly brought it up to 300 members.

My life-changing Event

That girlfriend I had in highschool found a guy friend she got close with --too close, and subsequently broke up with me in my 2nd semester of sophomore year; she said we were incompatible. It makes me chuckle looking back on it now, but I know at that time that was the most hurt I'd ever experienced. I cried in bed for weeks and didn't go out for days. I was a mess, and I learned the guitar to hopefully get her back. I was REALLY down bad.
I'm glad I decided to be proactive... I don't think I would have picked up the guitar if I hadn't made my Minecraft server or club, and missed out on the thrill of building something from nothing. I probably would have continued to be someone to pity like I had been in the many years prior. My small decision to learn the guitar at that point in time struck a chord in my brain and I kept wanting to play.

My wins

Over the next year I dropped 40 lbs -my abs were showing for the first time! I got my first job, my first car, dressed nicely, took up boxing, and learned dozens of skills and earned certificates that would help me develop a business one day. By my junior year I left gaming behind me and I haven't touched it since. The Minecraft server was discontinued, and the club was handed to a new president, who has since raised it to 600 members :)

Why entrepreneurship?

I naturally leaned into entrepreneurship for the allure of it's erratic lifestyle. I saw the discomfort, fears of instability, bankruptcy, and depressions, and I said I want that. My father's story of building his business from 0 to 1 with two children and two full time jobs was filled with these moments. I was witness to them all. I wanted to pursue this lifestyle of scary growth and failures, akin to my sudden break up and "glow up" period. I wasn't naive to the struggles of building a startup, oh, but I was.

My first startup

In my junior year of college I started my first company, a social network to share life goals and hold your peers accountable. I made EVERY single mistake that first-time founders could possibly make. Here's 10 pieces of advice for young founders:

1. Researching articles online isn't enough to validate a need for an idea. Go talk to actual people who have the problem you believe they do.
2. Have a good balance of pessimism and optimism. Be critical of your own decisions.
3. Don't start an LLC when you haven't made a good bit of money that proves you're solving a real problem.
4. Just don't bring in volunteers to help you; they will add more management that you shouldn't be handling as a young founder. If you're looking for help, look for cofounders.
5. Learn everything by hand now. If by small chance you're getting traction, you'll need to learn those skills anyway. Don't bother paying for outside assistance.
6. Be frugal and resourceful.
7. Reach out for mentorship, participate in entrepreneurial communities, build a personal brand that people will know you for; this will come in handy.
8. Start with a problem you have, see if at least one person will pay for a solution to that problem, design a solution and get a resounding yes from your user, build the MVP, get more users.
9. Shut up about I am "X", so I can't do "Y". Are you an introvert and you're afraid to talk to people? Too bad, learn how to sell or never get a sale - your choice. Are you non-technical and your startup requires some coding? There are so many resources out there for you.
10. Many, many, many, of you have the ability to set aside time for meaningful personal development, but will opt on saying that time doesn't exist for you. That's a way of phrasing a false reality that will help you feel comfortable and ignorant of a more productive reality. Do you actually want to be an entrepreneur? That comes with the good and the bad.

By the end of my 1st semester of senior year I had pivoted 10 times. Every week during that semester I was experiencing lows and highs. In the beginning I built a team of 12 and an MVP before I had talked to a single potential user in person. I even started an LLC and wasted money on legal contracts. My first mentor showed me some reality by asking just one question, and I couldn't answer it adequately enough, "Who is your target user, and why would they use it?"
Over the next 3 months I had over 200 15-minute interviews with users for different solutions I pivoted to, and by the end of it I was trying to solve for a completely different idea that I didn't really care about - helping students get the skills to succeed in the job market.

My current venture

I had a few projects come and go from January 2024 to March 2024, but this recent one I'm working on has stuck with me. I wanted to bring together founders in a networking event on my college campus. I hosted one in early March and 12 people came together and talked for over 2 hours about their experiences. We all exchanged phone numbers, and they asked me to host another one - so I planned one in April and 25 people showed!
My vision for this venture is to help early-stage entrepreneurs collaborate on startup issues genuinely and authentically. I've tested a few different ways about doing that and I'm now developing an app to facilitate week-long masterminds.

Where I am

I've been working minimum 12 hours a day, from 8am to 11pm most days. I don't have a job if you discount my startup work, and I'm living with my mother. Now I'm getting closer to reality and what I've asked for from the entrepreneurial life style when I started. I'll have a story worth sharing.
I initially wrote this post to vent about how my third cofounder left yesterday - and with it my plans to move to NYC to room with him, and how I was looking forward to moving out of my mother's to join an accelerator in Florida for the past 4 months, but they didn't want to fund me yesterday too.
When I started writing this post I wanted to give some context into this current predicament I am in, but now I realize that I'll be okay. Sometimes things don't go as you planned them to be 100 times in a row. You have to get back on your feet. Maybe this is why, "never give up" is cliche - because it's been advised many many times.

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 240: Private Gallery
My, how quaint.
An underground maze.
If it wasn’t dark towers laden with bats, it was underground mazes filled to the brim with all the upholstery recovered from the Summer Solstice Festival’s annual bonfire.
Here beneath a barn utilised as little more than a cellar door, black was still the new black. An unending panorama of dark embroidery and furnishings to match any budding empress’s humble beginnings, ensuring I remained busy offering all the slightly different variations of wrinkling my nose could perform.
The porcelain vases featuring motifs of the wrong season? A mild scrunch. The candelabras burning below 98% of their height instead of being immediately replaced? Hints of a sneeze. The golden silk carpets clearly stolen from the cathedrals of the Holy Church? … A nod of my head.
But what I could have no complaints about was a door still swinging upon its hinges.
Poetry in motion, it painted the picture of a baroness desperate in her haste to stumble over her dress as much as humanly possible. Excellent news. We didn’t need to break another door today.
A surprise.
After all, the baroness seemed intent on breaking everything herself.
Bwoomph.
The sound of a heavy object being dropped came crashing through.
And then another. And another.
A commotion to rival the scuffling of two rival sons at our reception hall. The cadence of chairs, small tables and then backsides falling to the ground as insults became slaps and slaps became a scene of disgrace, all the while my sisters and I watched and snacked on the walnuts.
Sadly for the baroness, I chose not to stand idly by as she roughly squirrelled away her stolen possessions. And neither did Coppelia, who rubbed her hands together in gleeful expectation.
It was still the most innocent gesture she’d ever made.
“Should we let her gather up the loot pile some more?” she asked brightly.
I shook my head at once, my nose aching from the ceaseless wrinkling.
“Absolutely not. Even a moment is too long in this burrow.”
“We could double back and ominously stamp our feet to make her go faster, too.”
“Or we could merely offer our supervision instead. Come. It’s time to end our stay in the countryside. As well as this baroness’s grand misadventure.”
Already dreaming of my bed, I lightly pushed the door open.
A moment later, I was met by the sight of an adventurer’s most wanton dream come to life.
Within the centre of a bedroom chamber, chests laden with silver and gold crowns sat waiting for the first lout to claim as hardship expenses for chasing cats in an endless circle. The chests gleamed with an organised lustre, winking in unison as though counted and arranged to the coin.
It was a sight which contrasted with the desperate movements of the baroness.
Only brief snippets of her could be seen as she went to-and-fro in another room, accessed through a parted bookcase. Through the opening, I heard hints of calamity. Heavy banging as objects crashed to the floor, joined by the sound of ragged breathing to match a servant dashing up and down my bedroom tower to fetch grapes for me in quantities of one.
“Haah … haahh … hahhh …”
And now my curiosity was kindled.
Things worth more than chests of crowns. What could she possess, I wonder?
Sweeping past the gleaming pile of silver and gold, I made my way towards the parted bookcase, and then peeked through to see our baroness performing one last act of defiance.
With her golden hair as dishevelled as her dress, she was kneeling beside an assembled pile of what were unmistakably paintings. A veritable mountain of them, all framed in gilded brass. The scent of oil, watercolours and various pigments struck me more than any whiff of alcohol I’d experienced today.
Clearly a gallery of sorts. A secondary trove of treasure, but no less valuable. Rare paintings were worth their weight in silver and gold as much as any of the coins gathered in the chamber.
And also, to my horror, much easier to destroy.
“Haah … haahhh … hahhhhh …”
The baroness didn’t even notice our presence.
So absorbed was she in her final act of petulance, her only concern was to raise her feeble arms, weakened by all the disdain it required to gather so many heavy paintings in one spot.
All to set it alight.
With a look of desperation on her face, she raised a single candle, readying to set the oil upon the canvasses ablaze.
“Noooooope~”
“–Aah?!”
The same candle which was promptly plucked from her hand by Coppelia, who required no prompting to stop the destruction of precious treasure.
The baroness jolted in shock at Coppelia’s sudden appearance behind her, and even more so at the playful smile leaning towards her. A heartbeat later, she swiped at the candle, tearing away the topmost half. But it was too late.
The flame had already been extinguished.
“Noo … nooooooooooooo!!”
The baroness cupped her hands around the top, offering a tiny breath as she hoped to ignite it like the fading embers of a hearthfire.
She failed.
I took a step into the hidden gallery, ready to offer the coup de grâce to round off this minor detour into my countryside. A final reminder to my kingdom’s nobility, that whatever their rank, none were too lowly to be ignored.
“Ohhohohohohoho … how pitiable,” I said, my hand barely covering my lips. “Instead of a vain attempt to flee, you choose mindless destruction instead. I suppose I’ve no grounds to fault on this. You were wildly successful. Only that it was your own schemes which came to ruin.”
I gazed at the crumpled heap of the baroness as she turned around.
Her grey eyes widened as she viewed me.
All of a sudden, what colour remained upon her face drained to the point where if she threw herself on her bed, she’d be invisible against the white linen. Her only method of escape remaining.
It certainly wasn’t in the gurgling she made.
“Ah … n-no … wait …”
Her voice petered out, whatever words she spoke fading like a mousy squeak in the distance.
Ugh. The standards I endured.
Despite attempting a final act of spite, she didn’t even have enough vigour left in her to transfer that into the most cursory of insults.
“Now, this right here is what separates the barony from the city nobility,” I said, well and truly exasperated. “You may despise your peers, but know that Lady Tolent and Duke Valence at least performed their roles as expected. They were rude until the end. You’ve a considerable amount to learn.”
With a sigh, I took a step towards the mound of portraits.
Given what I’d seen so far, I doubted if any painting here was worth what the baroness deemed worthy enough to hide away like a dragon’s favoured treasure. But I was open to being pleasantly surprised.
Who knows? Perhaps she’d pilfered more than carpets from the Holy Church.
However–
“Wait!!!!!”
The baroness scrambled to her feet, arms raised as she blocked my path.
Despite her sudden burst of life, no colour returned to her face. It was like a ghoul raised as a puppet, desperately heeding the command of its owner.
“You … You can’t look!” she said, quivering. “None of this … none of this is for you!”
My mouth widened at the gall.
… Why, so she did have some insult left in her!
To insinuate I wasn’t worthy of judging these paintings was far more wounding than any generic disdain she could level against my superior wealth, standing, beauty and shape of my hair!
After all, I was exceptionally confident in my curating skills!
Anything less would see my own works being met by a chorus of snivelling! Amongst all who resided in my kingdom, it wasn’t traitors who were the most fearless to my ire! It was art critics!
“E-Excuse me! Rest assured that I’m more than capable of judging the qualities of any painting! When it comes to my assessment of art, my valuation leaves no detail unturned!”
Somehow, the baroness paled even more. Her eyes quivered like ponds in a gale.
A moment later–
“You can’t!!!!”
She threw herself at me.
A slow, lumbering tackle to match her anaemic state. I stepped to the side as she hurled herself past me, falling to a heap by Renise’s feet.
The maid looked down. She didn’t wear a single hint of animosity. Only pity and sorrow. Truly, she was too kind to ever have been in the nobility. I feared for her current role.
Still, I gave a sigh, before leaning over the mountain of paintings.
“Uwah~ this is a new one.”
As the light from the doorway fell upon it, Coppelia offered a hint of what was to be expected. She wore a peculiar expression, her smile oddly fixed as she gazed down at the nearest one to face upright.
I joined her.
And then–
“Hmm.”
I blinked as I assessed it.
A moment later, I glanced over those nearby. And then those nearby them.
Not only paintings. But portraits.
All featuring the same subject. A girl with long, dark hair and vivid eyes.
Many featured a dress hinting at a summer’s day. Shafts of golden sunlight was a common theme, along with a backdrop of a pristine tea table, laden with a familiar array of confectionery. Carrot madeleines and carrot cakes. The same ones I tactically placed for everyone else to eat at my mandatory tea parties.
Indeed. That made sense.
Since this was assuredly my tea table being presented. And that girl with a pleasant smile, unblemished features, a regal bearing and warmth radiating from her very presence was me.
I dug inside the mountain of portraits, lifting up another at random.
Yes.
It was me. Again.
In fact–
Every single portrait in this heap was of me.
At least a hundred or more. All framed and recently placed upon the walls of a hidden room. A private gallery to a baroness–one who was a keen painter. A corner had been transformed into a small workshop. Unlike the one found in her tavern, this one was far more organised. Easels and brushes were neatly tidied away, cared for as much as the paintings that had been created here.
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!”
Ignoring the cry of despair behind me, I gazed at the heap of paintings, hand against my cheek as I considered the sight.
A short hum was all I required.
I turned to the stricken baroness upon the floor, her mouth wide as she waited for my judgement.
And then–
“Oho …”
I began to laugh.
“Ohoho … ohhohohoho …”
But this was no mocking laugh which spilled from my lips.
No … it was a laugh of pure delight.
“Ohhhohohoohhohohoohhohohoo!!”
True, nothing here was fit to be placed upon the Royal Villa’s walls. But few paintings were. This didn’t mean they were without merit. On the contrary, even a surface level impression of my face was worth more crowns than even a mosaic of the Grand Duchess completed by a thousand master painters.
But while better artists than her had painted me, few had painted more.
And this I could use.
Why … with this many paintings, I could fill up Soap Island with my imagery!
I could ensure that every tunnel possessed my permanent smile and watching eyes!
No matter where the soap miners hid, seeking respite from their days of hard labour and repentance, they could be met by the sight of my angelic face reminding them that I know and judge their every moment of unsupervised rest!
How … How wonderful!!!!
“A 7/10,” I declared. “Individually, they range between passable and acceptable. Except this one. There is something wrong with the nose. But when taken as an entire collection, the overall composition is greater than the sum of its parts. Alone, each is a verse describing a princess forced to adhere to her mandatory tea parties even as summer blooms a window away. But together, it is the sonata of a princess who continues in her duties without care to repetition or fatigue, reminding those whose hands falter when they should be mining soap that I do not rest, and so neither will they. Not an overly complex message, but then I wouldn’t wish it to be lost.”
Thus, I clapped my hands together in satisfaction.
“... Indeed, I shall put these portraits to excellent use!”
I waited for the gasp of relief which usually came with any of my scores which didn’t plunge into negative numbers. The baroness would not be destroyed by the world of fine art. Only ignored. The baseline criticism. She’d survive.
Providing, of course, that she ever woke from her stupor.
Looking down, I was appalled to see all the light had vacated her eyes.
Far from offering her gratitude, she lay collapsed in an untidy heap upon the floor, her body prone and motionless, her expression locked in morbid embarrassment, and with no signs of life other than the trail of drool which began to leak from the edge of her lips.
“Wow~” said Coppelia, leaning down to poke her cheeks. “You managed to kill her with just the laugh.”
I was appalled.
If this was the reaction to my satisfaction, I may as well be disappointed! That was always easier!
“C-Coppelia! I didn’t kill her! … Why, anyone who dies looking so slovenly would come back to life just to fix themselves!”
Also kneeling beside the fallen baroness, Renise gently shook the girl’s shoulder. Only a weak gurgling came out, wishing for an eternal night.
After a moment, Renise sent a slightly pained smile towards me.
“Um, by any chance … do you not have any thoughts regarding seeing so many portraits of yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … do you not find it odd?”
I looked at her in puzzlement.
“... No? Why would that be odd? Isn’t it natural that people would wish to paint me? I’m a princess. And an excellent one, too. Better me than a fruit bowl, surely.”
Renise blinked … just before raising her hand to her lips in a small giggle.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Words which advanced her on my family’s career ladder exponentially. I nodded profusely.
Mreoow.
At least until an unexpected sound filled the air.
I looked around in puzzlement.
“... Did I hear a cat?”
“Mmh~” Coppelia pointed towards the faux-vault door we’d passed. “More than one. There’s a whole bunch being kept nearby. It smells terrible.”
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
Why, no wonder the baroness sought the bliss of unconsciousness! It was to evade my utter disbelief!
The absolute state of my kingdom’s schemers!
First Trierport! Now Hartzwiese! To think it was an epidemic!
Just what were these people doing?! Truly, it’s one thing to undermine my kingdom. But that was a pale crime compared to their feat of singlehandedly fuelling the existence of the Adventurer’s Guild!
“It must be Tantrum and Peppy,” said Renise, far less aggrieved. “As well as all the others.”
I directed my bewilderment towards her instead.
“What is a … Tantrum and a Peppy?”
“They’re the names of the deputy guildmaster’s cats. The ones she was looking for. We should ensure they’re rescued before the night is done.”
I shook my head rapidly. No, no, no, no.
“I am not rescuing cats.”
“Hm? … Why not? Isn’t that the job of adventurers?”
“No, that’s the job of drunkards who mistake the commissions plastered on walls for requests to save a kidnapped princess. Besides, cats hardly need rescuing. Whatever bonds they find themselves in, they’re more than capable of slipping free by their own endless guile.”
Indeed, our only danger was that we tripped over a lazing cat hidden in the shade!
It’s a wonder they hadn’t escaped already. By the time we were done, I fully expected to see cats causing anarchy as they reclaimed the town, mewing from rooftop and windowsill with barely held contempt for the very people who fed them!
… Why, they should be ashamed!
“I see …” said Renise, with a hum of uncertainty. “Well, I suppose they’re known for their self-sufficiency. But even so, I feel that we shouldn’t leave them in the chance that their artfulness fails. There’s a very dangerous forest between here and the town.”
Coppelia clapped her hands together.
Her interest in the baroness severed, she leaned towards her next source of amusement, her smile alive with all the usual colours of the mischief rainbow.
“That’s right~ cats are pretty smart, right? There’s no way they’ll be caught by the slobbering horrors devoid of mercy and compassion which I kept from eating us.”
“Coppelia, you frightened them away with sticks.”
“Exactly. Sticks thrown using opposable thumbs which cats lack. And that means they know where they are on the food tree. They’re gonna stay here where it’s safe, waiting for the dumb humans to come fetch them like they always do, even though cats do nothing but hiss and scratch at them.”
I gave a cautious nod … all the while leaning further away.
“Yes, well, I’m glad you agree. We’ve no need to lift a finger to rescue them.”
“Mmh~ but even so, aren’t you willingly leaving gold on the table?”
“Excuse me?”
“I bet every cat has a poster somewhere up in the Adventurer’s Guild. That’s a whole bunch of change you’re leaving lying around that could be used for our apple strudel budget.”
I was aghast.
Not only at the suggestion our funds went entirely towards the apple strudels she ate before I could even touch them … but also because I knew exactly what Coppelia was doing!
My keen eyes could see through her deep subterfuge!
True, it was only prudent to ensure our personal finances were as secure as possible … but even so!
I had my pride!
In my darkest dreams, I still recalled the shame of rescuing a warehouse of cats in Trierport! There was no scenario in which I’d willingly suffer such humiliation again! Once my dignity was stripped, what was I, but a beautiful maiden without equal?
Indeed, I had no doubt in my mind!
I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would absolutely not resort to saving lost cats!
“The Adventurer’s Guild will never be happier,” said Coppelia brightly. “I bet that in less than a day, a literal army of adventurers will be swooping in to claim all the free cats for themselves. They’ll be everywhere. Literally everywhere. Productivity will be at its highest. You’ll be actively supporting the livelihoods of all those guys you see drinking themselves into a coma!”
Renise blinked, then looked at me with an expression filled with new warmth.
“Oh, I see! You intend to leave these cats behind to be collected by new adventurers. That’s very thoughtful of you. I understand now. This must be how high-ranked adventurers help their juniors progress and gain confidence in their skills.”
Renise filled the ensuing silence with her smile.
And then–
She slowly waved a hand in front of my face.
“... Miss Coppelia, why isn’t she responding?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Her cogs get stuck every now and again.”
“I see … ? Should we do something or … ?”
“Mmh~ I’ll scoop up the striped ones! You get the normal ones!”
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how many beads do i need for 300 friendship bracelets taylor swift
This is the list of what bracelets I’m going to make. How many colored beads would I need approximately? I’m going to color code each album to its color.
EDIT: I’ve calculated how many beads of each letter hehe I just need bead colors. There’s this website someone made and posted it onto taylorswift and I used it for all these and I’ve calculated how many of each letter I need lol.
Taylor Swift 1. Tim McGraw 2. Picture To Burn 3. Teardrops On My Guitar 4. A Place In This World 5. Cold As You 6. The Outside 7. Tied Together With A Smile 8. Stay Beautiful 9. Should’ve Said No 10. Mary’s Song 11. Our Song 12. I’m Only Me When I’m With You 13. Invisible 14. A Perfectly Good Heart
Fearless (Taylor’s Version) 15. Fearless 16. Fifteen 17. Love Story 18. Hey Stephen 19. White Horse 20. You Belong With Me 21. Breathe 22. Tell Me Why 23. You’re Not Sorry 24. The Way I Loved You 25. Forever & Always 26. Come In With The Rain 27. Superstar 28. The Other Side Of The Door 29. Today Was A Fairytale 30. You All Over Me 31. Mr Perfectly Fine 32. We Were Happy 33. That’s When 34. Don’t You 35. Bye Bye Baby 36. If This Was A Movie 37. Change
Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) 38. Mine 39. Sparks Fly 40. Back To December 41. Speak Now 42. Dear John 43. Mean 44. The Story Of Us 45. Never Grow Up 46. Enchanted 47. Better Than Revenge 48. Innocent 49. Haunted 50. Last Kiss 51. Long Live 52. Ours 53. Superman 54. Electric Touch 55. When Emma Falls In Love 56. I Can See You 57. Castles Crumbling 58. Foolish One 59. Timeless
Red (Taylor’s Version) 60. State Of Grace 61. Red 62. Treacherous 63. I Knew You Were Trouble 64. All Too Well 65. 22 66. I Almost Do 67. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together 68. Stay Stay Stay 69. The Last Time 70. Holy Beautiful 71. Sad Beautiful Tragic 72. The Lucky One 73. Everything Has Changed 74. Starlight 75. Begin Again 76. The Moment I Knew 77. Come Back…Be Here 78. Girl At Home 79. Ronan 80. Better Man 81. Nothing New 82. Babe 83. Message In A Bottle 84. I Bet You Think About Me 85. Forever Winter 86. Run 87. The Very First Night 88. All Too Well (10 Minute Version) 89. Eyes Open 90. Safe & Sound
1989 (Taylor’s Version) 91. Welcome To New York 92. Blank Space 93. Style 94. Out Of The Woods 95. All You Had To Do Was Stay 96. Shake It Off 97. I Wish You Would 98. Bad Blood 99. Wildest Dreams 100. How You Get The Girl 101. This Love 102. I Know Places 103. Clean 104. Wonderland 105. You Are In Love 106. New Romantics 107. Slut 108. Say Don’t Go 109. Now That We Don’t Talk 110. Suburban Legends 111. Is It Over Now
Reputation 112. Ready For It 113. Endgame 114. I Did Something Bad 115. Don’t Blame Me 116. Delicate 117. Look What You Made Me Do 118. So It Goes 119. Gorgeous 120. Getaway Car 121. King Of My Heart 122. Dancing With Our Hands Tied 123. Dress 124. This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things 125. Call It What You Want 126. New Year’s Day
Lover 127. I Forgot That You Existed 128. Cruel Summer 129. Lover 130. The Man 131. The Archer 132. I Think He Knows 133. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince 134. Paper Rings 135. Cornelia Street 136. Death By A Thousand Cuts 137. London Boy 138. Soon You’ll Get Better 139. False God 140. You Need To Calm Down 141. Afterglow 142. Me 143. It’s Nice To Have A Friend 144. Daylight 145. All Of The Girls You Loved Before
Folklore 146. The 1 147. Cardigan 148. The Last Great American Dynasty 149. Exile 150. My Tears Ricochet 151. Mirrorball 152. Seven 153. August 154. This Is Me Trying 155. Illicit Affairs 156. Invisible String 157. Mad Woman 158. Epiphany 159. Betty 160. Peace 161. Hoax 162. The Lakes
Evermore 163. Willow 164. Champagne Problems 165. Gold Rush 166. Tis The Damn Season 167. Tolerate It 168. No Body No Crime 169. Happiness 170. Dorothea 171. Coney Island 172. Ivy 173. Cowboy Like Me 174. Long Story Short 175. Marjorie 176. Closure 177. Evermore 178. Right Where You Left Me 179. It’s Time To Go
Midnights 180. Lavender Haze 181. Maroon 182. Anti Hero 183. Snow On The Beach 184. You’re On Your Own Kid 185. Midnight Rain 186. Question 187. Vigilante Shit 188. Bejeweled 189. Labyrinth 190. Karma 191. Sweet Nothing 192. Mastermind 193. The Great War 194. Bigger Than The Whole Sky 195. Paris 196. High Infidelity 197. Glitch 198. Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve 199. Dear Reader 200. Hits Different
The Tortured Poets Department 201. Fortnight 202. The Tortured Poets Department 203. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 204. Down Bad 205. So Long London 206. But Daddy I Love Him 207. Fresh Out The Slammer 208. Florida 209. Guilty As Sin 210. Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me 211. I Can Fix Him No Really I Can 212. LOML 213. I Can Do It With A Broken Heart 214. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived 215. The Alchemy 216. Clara Bow 217. The Black Dog 218. I’mGonnaGetYouBack 219. The Albatross 220. Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus 221. How Did It End 222. So High School 223. I Hate It Here 224. Thank You Aimee 225. I Look In People’s Windows 226. The Prophecy 227. Cassandra 228. Peter 229. The Bolter 230. Robin 231. The Manuscript
Other 232. Taylor Swift 233. Debut 234. Fearless TV 235. Speak Now TV 236. Red TV 237. 1989 TV 238. Reputation 239. Folklore 240. Evermore 241. Midnights 242. TTPD 243. Eras Tour 244. 123 LGB 245. Fuck The Patriarchy 246. Ur Gay 247. Taylor’s Version 248. 13 249. Junior Jewels 250. You’ll Be The Prince 251. I’ll Be The Princess 252. Wonderstruck 253. Loving Him Was Red 254. Losing Him Was Blue 255. Missing Him Was Dark Grey 256. Sad Girl Autumn 257. Who’s Taylor Swift Anyway 258. ATWTMVFTVSGAVRALPS (All Too Well Ten Minute Version From The Vault Sad Girl Autumn Version Recorded At Long Pond Studios) 259. Ratatata 260. I ❤️ TS 261. Me Hee Hee 262. Karma Is The Guy On The Chiefs 263. Screaming Crying Throwing Up 264. Jan Ravnik 265. I’m Having A Menty B Hee Hee 266. Benjamin Button 267. Meredith Grey 268. Olivia Benson 269. Errors Tour 270. Died Dead 271. TSwizzle 272. YFYFBYNLIT (you forgive you grifter but you never let it go) 273. Take us to church 274. Swiftie 275. I’ll Be 87 You’ll Be 89 276. LVIII Super Bowl Champions 277. Tayvis 278. Folkmore 279. Everlore 280. It’s Been a Long Time Coming 281. What If I Told You I’m Back 282. It’s Fearless 283. Big Reputation 284. And They Said Speak Now 285. Into Folklore 286. My Name Is Taylor And I Was Born In 1989 287. Meet Me At Midnight 288. This Isn’t The One I Wanted 289. Ever Needy Ever Lovely Jewel 290. Alls Well It Ends Well 291. I Hate All Kanyes 292. El Travador 293. My Brain Is Alive 294. Who’s Taylor Swift Anyway 295. Not A Lot Going On At The Moment 296. A Lot Going On At The Moment 297. Blue Jays 298. Toronto N6 299. I’m The Problem 300. Welcome To The Eras Tour
EDIT2: I have no idea why I uploaded the bracelet titles and stuff 😂 I’m sorry.
EDIT3: I’m going to be using 11 different colors

This is the list of what bracelets I’m going to make. How many colored beads would I need approximately? I’m going to color code each album to its color.
EDIT: I’ve calculated how many beads of each letter hehe I just need bead colors. There’s this website someone made and posted it onto taylorswift and I used it for all these and I’ve calculated how many of each letter I need lol.
Taylor Swift 1. Tim McGraw 2. Picture To Burn 3. Teardrops On My Guitar 4. A Place In This World 5. Cold As You 6. The Outside 7. Tied Together With A Smile 8. Stay Beautiful 9. Should’ve Said No 10. Mary’s Song 11. Our Song 12. I’m Only Me When I’m With You 13. Invisible 14. A Perfectly Good Heart
Fearless (Taylor’s Version) 15. Fearless 16. Fifteen 17. Love Story 18. Hey Stephen 19. White Horse 20. You Belong With Me 21. Breathe 22. Tell Me Why 23. You’re Not Sorry 24. The Way I Loved You 25. Forever & Always 26. Come In With The Rain 27. Superstar 28. The Other Side Of The Door 29. Today Was A Fairytale 30. You All Over Me 31. Mr Perfectly Fine 32. We Were Happy 33. That’s When 34. Don’t You 35. Bye Bye Baby 36. If This Was A Movie 37. Change
Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) 38. Mine 39. Sparks Fly 40. Back To December 41. Speak Now 42. Dear John 43. Mean 44. The Story Of Us 45. Never Grow Up 46. Enchanted 47. Better Than Revenge 48. Innocent 49. Haunted 50. Last Kiss 51. Long Live 52. Ours 53. Superman 54. Electric Touch 55. When Emma Falls In Love 56. I Can See You 57. Castles Crumbling 58. Foolish One 59. Timeless
Red (Taylor’s Version) 60. State Of Grace 61. Red 62. Treacherous 63. I Knew You Were Trouble 64. All Too Well 65. 22 66. I Almost Do 67. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together 68. Stay Stay Stay 69. The Last Time 70. Holy Beautiful 71. Sad Beautiful Tragic 72. The Lucky One 73. Everything Has Changed 74. Starlight 75. Begin Again 76. The Moment I Knew 77. Come Back…Be Here 78. Girl At Home 79. Ronan 80. Better Man 81. Nothing New 82. Babe 83. Message In A Bottle 84. I Bet You Think About Me 85. Forever Winter 86. Run 87. The Very First Night 88. All Too Well (10 Minute Version) 89. Eyes Open 90. Safe & Sound
1989 (Taylor’s Version) 91. Welcome To New York 92. Blank Space 93. Style 94. Out Of The Woods 95. All You Had To Do Was Stay 96. Shake It Off 97. I Wish You Would 98. Bad Blood 99. Wildest Dreams 100. How You Get The Girl 101. This Love 102. I Know Places 103. Clean 104. Wonderland 105. You Are In Love 106. New Romantics 107. Slut 108. Say Don’t Go 109. Now That We Don’t Talk 110. Suburban Legends 111. Is It Over Now
Reputation 112. Ready For It 113. Endgame 114. I Did Something Bad 115. Don’t Blame Me 116. Delicate 117. Look What You Made Me Do 118. So It Goes 119. Gorgeous 120. Getaway Car 121. King Of My Heart 122. Dancing With Our Hands Tied 123. Dress 124. This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things 125. Call It What You Want 126. New Year’s Day
Lover 127. I Forgot That You Existed 128. Cruel Summer 129. Lover 130. The Man 131. The Archer 132. I Think He Knows 133. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince 134. Paper Rings 135. Cornelia Street 136. Death By A Thousand Cuts 137. London Boy 138. Soon You’ll Get Better 139. False God 140. You Need To Calm Down 141. Afterglow 142. Me 143. It’s Nice To Have A Friend 144. Daylight 145. All Of The Girls You Loved Before
Folklore 146. The 1 147. Cardigan 148. The Last Great American Dynasty 149. Exile 150. My Tears Ricochet 151. Mirrorball 152. Seven 153. August 154. This Is Me Trying 155. Illicit Affairs 156. Invisible String 157. Mad Woman 158. Epiphany 159. Betty 160. Peace 161. Hoax 162. The Lakes
Evermore 163. Willow 164. Champagne Problems 165. Gold Rush 166. Tis The Damn Season 167. Tolerate It 168. No Body No Crime 169. Happiness 170. Dorothea 171. Coney Island 172. Ivy 173. Cowboy Like Me 174. Long Story Short 175. Marjorie 176. Closure 177. Evermore 178. Right Where You Left Me 179. It’s Time To Go
Midnights 180. Lavender Haze 181. Maroon 182. Anti Hero 183. Snow On The Beach 184. You’re On Your Own Kid 185. Midnight Rain 186. Question 187. Vigilante Shit 188. Bejeweled 189. Labyrinth 190. Karma 191. Sweet Nothing 192. Mastermind 193. The Great War 194. Bigger Than The Whole Sky 195. Paris 196. High Infidelity 197. Glitch 198. Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve 199. Dear Reader 200. Hits Different
The Tortured Poets Department 201. Fortnight 202. The Tortured Poets Department 203. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 204. Down Bad 205. So Long London 206. But Daddy I Love Him 207. Fresh Out The Slammer 208. Florida 209. Guilty As Sin 210. Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me 211. I Can Fix Him No Really I Can 212. LOML 213. I Can Do It With A Broken Heart 214. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived 215. The Alchemy 216. Clara Bow 217. The Black Dog 218. I’mGonnaGetYouBack 219. The Albatross 220. Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus 221. How Did It End 222. So High School 223. I Hate It Here 224. Thank You Aimee 225. I Look In People’s Windows 226. The Prophecy 227. Cassandra 228. Peter 229. The Bolter 230. Robin 231. The Manuscript
Other 232. Taylor Swift 233. Debut 234. Fearless TV 235. Speak Now TV 236. Red TV 237. 1989 TV 238. Reputation 239. Folklore 240. Evermore 241. Midnights 242. TTPD 243. Eras Tour 244. 123 LGB 245. Fuck The Patriarchy 246. Ur Gay 247. Taylor’s Version 248. 13 249. Junior Jewels 250. You’ll Be The Prince 251. I’ll Be The Princess 252. Wonderstruck 253. Loving Him Was Red 254. Losing Him Was Blue 255. Missing Him Was Dark Grey 256. Sad Girl Autumn 257. Who’s Taylor Swift Anyway 258. ATWTMVFTVSGAVRALPS (All Too Well Ten Minute Version From The Vault Sad Girl Autumn Version Recorded At Long Pond Studios) 259. Ratatata 260. I ❤️ TS 261. Me Hee Hee 262. Karma Is The Guy On The Chiefs 263. Screaming Crying Throwing Up 264. Jan Ravnik 265. I’m Having A Menty B Hee Hee 266. Benjamin Button 267. Meredith Grey 268. Olivia Benson 269. Errors Tour 270. Died Dead 271. TSwizzle 272. YFYFBYNLIT (you forgive you grifter but you never let it go) 273. Take us to church 274. Swiftie 275. I’ll Be 87 You’ll Be 89 276. LVIII Super Bowl Champions 277. Tayvis 278. Folkmore 279. Everlore 280. It’s Been a Long Time Coming 281. What If I Told You I’m Back 282. It’s Fearless 283. Big Reputation 284. And They Said Speak Now 285. Into Folklore 286. My Name Is Taylor And I Was Born In 1989 287. Meet Me At Midnight 288. This Isn’t The One I Wanted 289. Ever Needy Ever Lovely Jewel 290. Alls Well It Ends Well 291. I Hate All Kanyes 292. El Travador 293. My Brain Is Alive 294. Who’s Taylor Swift Anyway 295. Not A Lot Going On At The Moment 296. A Lot Going On At The Moment 297. Blue Jays 298. Toronto N6 299. I’m The Problem 300. Welcome To The Eras Tour
EDIT2: I have no idea why I uploaded the bracelet titles and stuff 😂 I’m sorry.

Fletch gently pushed open the large and lavishly decorated bronze doors of the university administration building and ambled out into the portico. He set his cup of coffee down on the pedestal of a granite pillar and pulled his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his tan trench coat. The old chief inspector plucked a cigarette from the ornately engraved case with slender fingers and wondered why the Kael let him come at all.
Something felt very off with the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the story he got. Mike Anderson was certainly depressed, but as far as Fletch could tell, he had not displayed any suicidal behavior. And why now? Fletch thought. Things were on the upswing for the kid. His grades were excellent, his family situation was good, and he was out of the house more this term than the last. Fletch scratched his mustache. Why would the seals hide the autopsy and the gun? He brought the cigarette to his lips, snapped the filigreed case shut, and slipped it back into the breast pocket of his coat. Fletch flicked open his lighter and sighed as he lit his cigarette. Murder.
It was a hopeless case. These days, warrants were approved by the seals, and even if they weren't, he doubted that he could get one anyway. His suspicion of foul play was backed by nothing but his instinct.
Fletch watched students hustle and bustle through the plaza in front of him as he puffed away at his cigarette and pondered his theory.
But why kill him now? They could have done it in complete secrecy while he was a POW. And it couldn’t be to keep what happened in Philadelphia under wraps. His death brings more attention to it. And he wasn’t a rebel. So why? Fletch sipped at his coffee as he flicked ash from his cigarette. Vengeance? Did he kill some noble brat during the war?
Fletch scratched at his grey mustache and glanced at his watch. I’ll have to follow that thread. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette into a puddle as he briskly walked down the steps and through the university plaza.
The withered investigator was deep in thought when he entered the parking lot. What do I tell that Enrique chap? He unlocked his car and crawled in. I certainly can’t tell him that his mate’s been clipped with no evidence. Fletch turned the key, and the engine of his little Volvo sputtered to life. It’s no bleeding use. I’ll just tell the lad they weren’t interested in sharing and keep my suspicions to myself.
As he reached for the shifter, Fletch noticed a delightfully thick manilla envelope stuck in the gap between the center console and the passenger seat.
He pulled the envelope from the crack. Gingerly, he opened it and pulled out a small note. It read We’re even now, prick.
Fletch smiled and couldn’t help but mutter, “The game is afoot,” as he flicked through the stack of documents inside.
Isabella poked her head into the large office and saw Professor Dret’la with a ball of dark green yarn on her lap and bone darning needles beset with carvings in her hands.
Isabella was struck with confusion. What? She crochets!?
The professor looked up from her labor, spotted the confused girl outside her door, and called, “Come in.”
Isabella walked into the office and took a seat. She gestured to the yarn in the professor's hands. “What are you making?”
The professor smiled as motherly as one could with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “It will be a hat for my son. He just received his commission as a junior biologist, so he has to rummage around in freezers to get samples for his whole research team.”
Isabella blinked. This was not characteristic at all for the quick-tempered professor with a penchant for launching chalk across lecture halls at the mildest provocation.
Isabella shook off her shocked expression and gave the tall professor a dimpled cheek smile. “That’s so sweet! I’m sure he’ll love it. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was a thick wool sweater from my mamma during a training exercise off the coast of Norway.”
The professor, still smiling, sat up straight. “I hope that’s the kind of reception I get.”
The professor’s demeanor hardened as she stowed the yarn and needles in the desk drawer. “Now, let's get down to business.”
Isabella gulped.
“To start, congratulations. You’ve passed our testing and been selected for officer training.”
Isabella asked, “Who else was selected?”
“There are nine others: Robert Rhodes, Elena Pavel, Hal Jellico, Zheng Li, Brooke Halsey, Colow Aden, Magnus Tordenskjold, Bill Lee, and Kazuya Yamamoto.”
Isabella didn’t recognize all the names.
“Should you choose to accept, you will be taking a prep course taught by Colonel Ocidea and I starting next week and lasting all through the summer. If we deem you ready, you’ll ship out for basic training and then off to the Royal Military Academy, where you can earn your commission.” Dr. Dret’la leaned in close to Isabella. “Do you accept?”
Without hesitation, Isabella answered, “Yes.”
“Mike, come over here. You’re going to want to see this.” Calty voiced from her seat in the front of the cockpit.
Mike rolled off the couch and walked into the front of the cockpit as the captain shouted, “Decelerate!” Mike couldn’t help but grab onto the back of Calty’s seat as the FTL drive kicked into gear. The cockpit glass dimmed just before blindingly bright blue jets of fire from the front-facing engines came into view. A bright green circle flickered onto the glass surrounding a marble-sized dot darker than the rest of the now dim screen. The dots and circles expanded at an extreme pace until they took up most of the display. Another dot appeared—minuscule compared to the other—surrounded by a red circle. The growth of the shadowy dots and the circles around them slowed and then stopped entirely as the engines sputtered out.
The HUD faded out of view, and the tint of the glass slowly lightened, revealing a vast planet embraced by blue-green ice with a colossal foundry in its orbit. The planet, a gas giant called Drassus, was orbited by four rings. One was made of containers, and the other three were made up of loose ore gleaming in the nearby star's light. Exhaust chimneys spewing gas and fire sprouted from the otherwise spherical foundry, giving it a sea urchin-like profile, which, together with the weave of pipes bringing fuel from beneath the icy surface of the planet below, made the foundry resemble an old naval mine.
The captain strode up to the front of the cockpit. “One-third ahead and steer 14 degrees left. We’re unloading in bay three.”
Six mech suits and a tug exited a plasma-shielded hanger as the ship came to a halt. The mechs glided to the front of the ship and started dismounting the external cargo bay from the Broken Fin while the tug hitched onto the opposite end of the ten-kilometer-long rack of containers.
A little while later, the tug pulled away with the load of containers, and the comm system blared to life. “Broken Fin, you are cleared to leave. The UO corporation thanks you for your business.”
The captain replied, “Our pleasure. Broken fin out.” as the ship pulled out of the loading bay.
He turned to the navigation officer and said, “Lock in coordinates for jump to Kael Prime.”
The captain went to the central control board and pulled up traffic control. “Tower 1, this is the Broken Fin. We request a jump slot to Kael Prime from Drassus.”
“Broken Fin, request granted. Your departure slot is at 16:33.”
Mike glanced at the top right of the ship's HUD and looked at the time. 16:21.
Better get my stuff together…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ship shuddered ever so slightly despite the inertial dampeners as it exited FTL. Mike was lounging on the couch with his bag at his feet. He was ready to get off this tub.
Mike idly watched flames lick at the cockpit window as the ship descended into the atmosphere of Kael Prime. He looked at Dreki, who was sitting on the other couch. His muscles bulged through his clothes despite wearing a white sweater so large it could be mistaken for the sail of an average-sized boat. Mike asked, “Do you know anything about what’ll happen to me now?”
The big Kael shifted in his seat. “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but what the hell.” Dreki pulled the collar of his sweater down, revealing an angry white number burnt into his iron-gray skin just below the collarbone. “First, you’ll get branded.” He released his shirt and pointed to a small scar on the side of his head. “Then you’ll get an AR implant.”
“Where will I be getting that?” Mike asked.
“The Imperial Science Academy. We’re going to be staying there for a few days. They’ll run a bunch of tests and get you fitted for equipment there. After that, I’ll drop you off at the spaceport, and you’ll be off to Tlaxcalssus for basic training. After that, I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
The ship shook as it touched down on the landing pad. “Time to go.” Dreki shouldered his pack and walked out the door. Mike fiddled with the straps of his bag as he followed Dreki down the ramp and to the far side of the ship, away from the rest of the passengers. Mike's nose was immediately assaulted with the acrid smell of sulfur from where the fiery exhausts of engines had melted asphalt. The spaceport was swarming with vehicles and filled with the constant roar of ship engines and a symphony of smaller equipment. Power loaders and mechs loaded and unloaded heavy cargo, shuttles bustled to and fro with passengers, baggage carriers snaked through the crowded landing pads, and vehicles that looked like floating garage doors zipped through the air at ankle height, bringing pilots and crew to their ships. Mike couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, in the heartland of the enemy, walking through what was essentially a ten-acre parking lot.
Dreki plopped his bags on the ground and yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. “Our skiff will be here in a minute.”
Mike tuned out the beeps and whirrs of the tank-sized forklifts and mechs unloading the ship and gazed out beyond at the horizon. You’re not in Kansas anymore, bub. Mike thought as he studied the skyline of the imperial city basked in the glow of the early evening sun. Some of the buildings wouldn’t look all that out of place on Earth, but the skyline was assaulted with abominations that pissed on the laws of physics as Man understood them. Tusk-shaped skyscrapers defied gravity with their seemingly unsupported curves, and even more absurd were pyramids stacked atop another point-to-point like hourglasses. Any delusion of normalcy that Mike could come up with was shattered.
Dreki picked up his bag and pointed to a slab of black marble speeding towards them at ankle height. “Here’s our skiff.” A railing popped out of the center as the skiff came to a gliding halt. Dreki boarded the skiff and took hold of the rail, and Mike followed suit.
They sped through the spaceport and stopped outside what looked to Mike like a train station. Dreki shouldered his bag and stepped off the skiff. Mike stepped off and quickly fell in pace with Dreki. The big Kael led Mike into a grand station bustling with people. Most were Kael, but there was a smattering of other species. Some stared at Mike, others glanced, but most completely ignored him as he followed Dreki through the hall and onto a platform. Unfamiliar aliens clearly weren’t an uncommon sight here.
The walls of the station were covered with mosaics depicting Kael warriors from the distant past. Dreki noted the human's curiosity and said, “The founders of the clans.” He leveled a massive hand toward an opulent, towering mosaic of a Kael warrior wielding a bronze falx. The imposing figure's body was made of blue gemstones, the eyes rubies, one tusk silver, and the other gold. “That’s the founder of my clan, Drekalla Gold Tusk.”
Mike asked, “How’d he manage that?” As he followed Dreki into a mostly empty train car.
Dreki plopped down on a bench. “He was the war priest of Hroptaug the Conqueror during the unification wars. After the wars were won, Hroptaug granted us the Steam Hills.” Dreki pointed through the train window at the mosaic of another warrior whose body was made of milky white pearls. “That one,” He paused and spat on the floor, “Tiblan the Terror, challenged Drekalla to a duel for most of that land. Drekalla was cutting him to pieces, but the craven poisoned his blade. Just before Drekalla could deliver the final blow, the poison reached his heart, and Drekalla died. The only wound on his body was a cut across his forearm that barely drew blood.” Dreki rolled up his sleeve, showing a scar that reached from his elbow to the middle of his forearm. “Every K’alla is cut the same way to remind us of the blood feud.”
Mike inwardly sighed. Kael and their damned feuds… “How long ago was this.”
“Seven thousand four hundred and fifty-one years ago.”
Mike held back a snort. The absurdity of it all. The first human law codes came about to stop blood feuds, and out here, they have feuds that have lasted longer than Earth's recorded history.
“How’s that feud been going as of late?”
Dreki’s face sagged, “Not good.”
They both grew quiet. Mike shuffled uncomfortably.
Mike glanced at the route display and broke the silence, “What's with the middle city, inner city thing?”
Dreki relaxed slightly. “Oh, so the city used to be a fortification. The inner city is actually a volcanic island. The middle is built over the river, and the outer city was built on the banks.”
“I see.”
The doors closed, and the intercom sounded, “Next stop, the inner city.”
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Dale Robert’s wrinkled face was unreadable, and his highly decorated black and blue dress uniform immaculate as he led a horse through the street. He felt the eyes of thousands of onlookers on him, and he hated it. The pure black horse had a black leather saddle on its back. Two tall, glossy black boots were placed backward in silver stirrups, and the elaborate hilt of Mike’s basket-hilted broadsword jutted from the top of a black leather scabbard buckled to the saddle. Roberts followed the horse-drawn caisson bearing the flag-draped coffin of his old commanding officer. Not much farther now, he thought. The sounds of the cartwheels rolling and the horse’s tack jangling were wholly drowned out by boots stamping the ground in unison. Almost all of the 1800 survivors of the 801st regiment were there, resplendent in their dress uniforms, marching behind Mike one more time. The local police and fire departments joined them.
Roberts was unsure about it all. He felt that the poor kid's family would have preferred a smaller service back home in Colorado instead of this damn near royal procession. And Roberts was damn sure that the seals did not give their permission for this, no matter what the police chief said.
A reporter ducked through the police barricade and tried to ask the marching soldiers questions, but they remained stone-faced as the procession marched nearer to the gates of Philadelphia National Cemetery. Roberts handed the reigns of the riderless horse to another man in uniform and joined seven other members of Charlie platoon in pulling the casket from the cassion. They silently began their march to the grave, closely followed by General McCarthy, the man who was Joint Chief of Staff, and the color guard. Bagpipers began to blare, “Going Home.” Roberts heard the sound of gravpulse engines and looked up in dismay as a Kael gunship broke through the low clouds and descended to just barely above the cemetery. A loudspeaker blared, “Disperse at once.”

Here we are again in the shit stew that is the Fallowveil trailer park. We’ve got soul eating strippers, jobs that kill us, and plenty of weirdos, both the trailer trash and the potentially paranormal variety. It’s the place where even your own computer sometimes threatens to kill you. I can’t tell if I should be worried, or annoyed that all my neighbors have such irresponsible web habits. I know it’s not me that brings in all these machine wiping viruses.
So even though I got a system error that literally said “you’re useless and you should die” I’m less interested in that. Stupid thing. Like I don’t already know I’m useless. That’s not what I’m depressed about.
Well… I suppose it's tangentially related.
I hope anyone reading will forgive me. I’m feeling the sting of rejection right now. It was really stupid of me to ask. Especially now. Nobody here really likes me. They’ve only been nice to me as a courtesy because I was almost involved in a god damn shootout. And my idiot self decided that was the perfect time to push one of my few friends all the way away. Never ask your friends out on dates. It ruins everything.
So there’s this woman. I’ve talked about her in the past. Trista Ramone. She lives in the far back corner of the trailer park. You can instantly tell which unit is hers because she’s covered every square inch of the property with gardens and a rabbit hutch. The place usually has beads and colorful flags hanging on its walls as well. She’s kind of a right winger’s nightmare. I know some of those flags represent various lgbtq plus communities.
She and I have been friendly in the past. We’re both night shift workers. We crossed paths quite a bit going to and from work so we struck up a friendship over the years.
Let’s just ripped the band aid off. Recently I’ve started thinking I had… stronger feelings for Trista. I got stupid and decided to tell her about them. She wasn’t interested. I get why. We have very different lifestyles. I like meat, and she thinks the meat industry is murder. I’m not willing to give up meat, and she’s not willing to give up her beliefs. It's as simple as that. Now things are incredibly awkward with one of my closer friends and I’m still spiraling into self loathing, where I belong.
She swore up and down that she absolutely still wants to be friends with me, but I’m not sure I believe her. The look she gave me when I told her I’d like to ask her out. It looked like sadness, but a small part of me is convinced it was pity, or worse, disgust and loathing, and that small part of me never shuts the fuck up. But anyway, she gave me permission to write about her.
She is one of the creepy fixtures of our little neighborhood after all. She told me to make her seem as insane and scary as I possibly could and that she should get to kill me at the end. She also handed me a few of her high school yearbooks, advised me to chat with another neighbor of ours who she went to school with, and to only use creepy rumors for the rest.
Part of me is really willing to describe her as awful, but that’s just my anger. I don’t like that part of me. Trista’s not a bad person at all. She’s just weird and she doesn’t want to date me. God damn it, Petunia’s right. I need therapy.
So, I’ve told the story of the sexy, scary lady living in a polycule here in the trailer park. I think she’s got a bigger heart than she lets on. I’ve talked about the stories surrounding the Schroeder Slaughterhouse. Now let’s talk about the hippy everyone thinks is a vampire.
She’s a taller woman, maybe five-seven or eight, and she’s skinny. Her typical wardrobe is… interesting. Try to imagine your typical new-age hippy/stoner girl, wearing colorful sarongs, crop-tops, beanies, baggy sweaters, T-shirts with colorful sayings on them, sandals, boots woven from some sort of exotic plant, beaded necklaces, bracelets, a few too many piercings and some intricate tattoos. Can you picture that kind of person? Well, take that and dip them in “goth” dye. Everything is black, and contrasts to her pale white complexion, her eyes are this unusual violet color, and then make the woman wearing all that seem kind of depressed about something. That’s the look Trista has going on. Like if Wednesday Addams was forced to dress up for Hippy Day.
I’ve heard people call her an emo vampire, but as a former emo myself, she doesn’t fill out all the criteria. She doesn’t typically wear any super tight pants or cake on the eyeshadow. I guess she’s just Trista. It might sound weird (and it is) but the whole thing suits her. Her style, tattoos, and complexion all create this image of skinny vampiric waif with a mysterious past and a freaky sarcastic attitude and I found the whole thing… kinda hot.
Trista keeps to herself. She’s made the most out of her little corner of the trailer park. Like I said, she decked out her unit with garden squares, and a Rabbit pen. No idea why she’s allowed to do that. A lot of these places don’t allow pets. I heard she was also trying to put in a beehive too, but her neighbors are fighting her on that one. Our park is a bit too condensed for bees. She has a permit to grow hemp, but of course it’s not for recreational use. She treats it and uses it to weave things like handbags, clothes, and other stuff. There’s a consignment store in town that sells all kinds of things Trista has crafted herself. So she’s handy and self sufficient too. She paints, she carves wood, she weaves, she crochets, she sews, and who knows what else. She’s so good at her little crafts that apparently she’s able to support herself just selling them and working part time at the Moonlight Inn outside of town.
She’s also relatively friendly. I almost feel bad calling her weird, but here’s the thing, I’ve seen some REALLY weird shit. People jokingly call her a vampire, and she seems to embrace that, but part of me seriously wonders. The big clue is, like I mentioned, she’s completely nocturnal. She’s always asleep during the day, and every blind and curtain is drawn tight. The one time she came out during the day, she had on this full body suit with a helmet with UV glass and everything. Even then, she only showed up to give Petunia a hug, before leaving again.
That was the first time I saw Trista, come to think of it. I was kind of intrigued. It was kind of hard not to be when someone shows up to a community cookout in a freaking astronaut suit. I approached Petunia after she left.
“Who the heck was that?” I wondered.
“MASON! I’m so glad you could make it! You’ve been here about three months now! How’d that job interview go?”
“Oh. It went well. I might be doing janitorial work soon.”
“Night shift?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“If it’s the night shift, you’ll definitely meet the person who just left. That’s Trista. She’s the girl with the rabbits in the far corner. Poor girl. She’s got a really bad skin condition. Can’t let sunlight touch her.”
“Oh. Is she like… albino or something?”
“No, she’s got pigment. I don’t remember what the condition is called. I guess it started in high school or something. You’d have to ask her. And hey! If you work the night shift, you’ll probably get to chat with her!”
Petunia wasn’t wrong. I started working as a nighttime janitor for a number of local businesses. That was when I first started noticing the pale goth hippy. She rides around on a moped, with her dark hair and her sarong barely billowing behind her. I couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but she waved to me as she passed by.
The next time I saw her, she was jogging, but here’s where it gets weird. When I first stepped outside, all I saw was a blur. It actually startled me as I whipped toward it, but then there was this skinny tattooed pixie, somehow still looking like a stonehippy/vampire in jogging gear. I swear she was moving inhumanly fast when I first noticed her. That was when we introduced ourselves. She actually jogged over to say hello.
“Hey! You’re the new guy right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. My name’s Mason!” I reached out to shake the pretty girl’s hand, like an awkward loser. She smirked and shook my hand. Her grip was weirdly strong, and a bit cold.
“I’m Trista. I’m the weirdo in the back with the rabbits.”
“Trista… oh, are you the one who has a thing with sunlight? I think Petunia mentioned you.”
“Yup! That’s me. Xerodoma pigmentosum. Sunlight hurts. I hate that it hurts.” She lamented.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I said sympathetically.
“You get used to it. You work at night?”
“Yeah. Works better for me.”
“I get that.”
And so on and so on. She’s pretty cool, with a bit of hilarious snark in there. And she secretly procured recreational weed she was willing to share. I kept working the night shift just hoping for another chance to talk to her and possibly buy a joint. Eventually she invited me over to share a joint. The inside of her place was actually pretty sparse and spartan compared to the outside. Though she was a fan of hanging beads. Most of the main room was taken up by her various crafting projects and supplies. Hemp weaves, some paintings, and even a wood carving of what I think was a rabbit, but it wasn’t anywhere near complete.
I followed her to her kitchen where she reached into the very back of her pantry and pulled out a shoebox. Inside was her stash, but there was something else which I found very strange. It was a pack of syringes and a thing I assume is to sterilize syringes. I know what you’re thinking, and that was my first thought too. It’s a poor neighborhood, the woman already smokes weed illegally, it’s not that big a shock that maybe she was involved in other drugs too. I decided not to ask at the time. We shared our joint, and we laughed, a lot. She made fun of me for being a lightweight, while I got completely hypnotized staring at the patterns of a shawl she had woven.
Months went by and we got closer, but I couldn’t forget those syringes. After a while I got worried. I’ve seen what heroine does to people. So the next time I went over to smoke and eat (vegan) pizza with her, I asked.
“Trista? Are you using anything other than weed?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why?”
“You can tell me if you are.”
“Mason, sweetheart, I’m a stoner. I don’t fuck around with anything else and I never have.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Can I ask what that set of syringes are for?”
“Oh. In my stash box? Those are… part of my condition. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Is it like… embarrassing?”
“Yeah. So don’t ask. Can we just watch a movie?”
So I don't ask anymore. But I still have no idea what she does with those syringes. Based on what I read about that Xerodoma Pigmentosum thing she says she has, I have no clue what she would need to inject herself with.
Another time she asked me to check on her rabbits for her during the day, as her usual “sitter” had something come up. All I had to do was chop up the lettuce and carrots she left out. As I was enjoying the adorable fluffy faces, one of Trista’s neighbors, a woman named Bridget, poked her head outside her door.
“Hey. Do you know what Trista injects those rabbits with?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen her use syringes on those rabbits. She said she was just giving them medicine, but I swear I see her inject them every week.”
“I… I wouldn't know. She just asked me to feed them.”
“I love Trista, but that always seemed so weird. She has to know vaccines are a hoax!” I tuned the woman out after that one. My mind was on that set of syringes. Why would she be using them on rabbits? These things were her pets.
I was starting to crush on her by then. But I couldn’t help feeling weirded out by that. I was actually going to confront her, but the next time I came to visit, she was literally inside the Rabbit hutch, on her back, squealing with delight as her rabbit friends nuzzled and played with her.
“Bonnibelle! That tickles! Marcy! No chewing. Finn? Watch where you’re sticking that foot! Jake? Where are you? EEEEE Lumpy! Not the neck!”
It was as silly and adorable as it sounds. She was forced to whip herself upright when two of her little friends tried to burrow under her dress. She finally stood up with a laugh, cradling a rabbit in her arms and cooing at it.
There was just no way in hell this woman was doing anything that would hurt these animals. Bridget is a paranoid antivax weirdo anyway. If Trista was using syringes on the rabbits, I was convinced it was only for their benefit.
So life went on. I got more and more reclusive over the years. Petunia, Trista, and my next door neighbor Fred were the only things keeping me remotely connected to the outside. And so we get to now. So let’s see. What are the stories about the weird vampire woman?
Well, there’s the fact that she jogs at night, solo, in a poor neighborhood. Petunia keeps the shitty people contained and behaving for the most part, but I still wouldn’t exactly call it safe, especially for a young skinny woman. But she does it without a care in the world.
There’s one strange event that some people like to connect to this. I never knew this guy, but from what I hear he was a total weirdo who leered at anyone even remotely female. And this is despite the fact he was married. His name was Josh.
I remember him a bit. He’s the guy that Petunia chased away from one of her barbecues. Supposedly he was heard saying inappropriate things to the groups of ten year old girls that were playing in the bounce house Petunia rented. Telling them how pretty they were. Trying to coax them to take off their jackets. Police reports were filed but ultimately nothing could be proven. The guy's wife, Carole, always defends him for some reason.
But anyway, I remember hanging out with Trista one night a little over a year ago. She hadn’t gone jogging like she normally did. I asked her what was up with that.
“That weirdo, Josh has started catcalling when I pass his place. It weirds me out.”
“There aren’t other people who do that at night? I’m still shocked you jog alone.”
“Not like this. I can flip off a wolf whistler. But this guy… he keeps trying to get me to stop and talk to him, and when I don’t? He shouts about my ass. I’m gonna have to talk to Petunia about that shithead, if anybody can reign him in, it’s her.”
I’m gonna guess she never got a chance. Two days later, the whole town was awoken by sirens. I was getting ready for my shift when I heard them. I walked down the road a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on. The cops were heading toward the other side of the park, so I couldn’t see much. But I did notice Trista, in her jogging gear, skulking in the shadows. I wondered if she was in trouble. But before I could call out to her, she sprinted straight to Petunia's house and banged on the door. Petunia welcomed her inside, and that was all I saw. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, so I just shrugged and headed to work, figuring I’d text Trista later.
I didn’t learn till later that Josh was found dead. He was lying prone, face down, partly hidden by bushes at the edge of the park. His neck was cut open. He’d bled out rapidly. He had a knife in his hand, and officially it’s believed he fell on it and accidentally killed himself. There was a cocktail of drugs in his system so most people accept that explanation. But others swear they saw Trista out for her jog around the same time Josh would have been bleeding to death. She got questioned, and she swore she didn’t see anything. Without evidence, there was nothing else that could be proven.
Trista’s a friend. I know that guy was being creepy to her. So I’m happy to take her word for what happened, even if my seeing her going to Petunia’s pokes a bit of a hole in that. I can’t be sure it was Trista though. So I’m not saying a word. But if a certain creep attacked a certain lady who is rumored to be a vampire, it’s not that surprising to me that he ended up dead after bleeding to death. I’m not all that broken up about it.
I’m not the one spreading that story. Josh’s wife was the one who started the rumor. So now some people are even more convinced that the weird nocturnal hippy chick is secretly a vampire.
She’s no killer. No matter what they say. She would only have defended herself.
So that’s all the stories I’ve heard that have any credibility to them. There’s more people who swear she and Petunia perform weird rituals, and people who saw her moving “inhumanly fast” and such.
But now I have to share what I found in the yearbooks Trista gave me. I wasn’t really expecting much. I checked her senior yearbook out first. She looks about the same. Pale, goth, hippy, and sort of sad. She kind of looks even sadder in these photos if I’m being honest, but that’s high school for you. She graduated in the top half of her class, no sports or extracurriculars. I’m left wondering how she managed to go to school at the time of sun was so bad for her. I’ll have to ask her about that. So nothing really new there.
It was the yearbook from her junior year where things got really interesting. I was in shock when I found her. Trista is somehow impossible to miss, but unrecognizable all at once. She’s full of color! She wore more typical tie dye hippy attire. Bright vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, and yellows, in every photo, and holy shit was she busy. Captain of the soccer team, first chair flutist, president of the “green living” club and the “vegan alliance,” top ten in her class, it was all incredible. I think the main reason I didn’t recognize her was her skin. It was tan, as though she were out in the sun a lot. Furthermore there were photos of her playing sports and standing outside in bright sunlight.
It was like her disease wasn’t there, which confused me. She told me it was something called Xeroderma Pigmentosa. But that’s a genetic condition. She would have had that from birth.
I sent her a text, wondering about this.
- Hey! Just went through your yearbooks. What happened? You had color? Did you discover Linkin Park?
- My disease happened. Right at the end of Jr. year. That’s why I wasn’t there for the final class photo.
- But your disease is genetic… isn’t it?
- I guess it was dormant in me.
- So it just… happened?
- Pretty much.
- I’m sorry.
- I got over it. Mostly. It was hard. My parents were both hardcore vegan naturalists and we lived in a place that was all natural light and such, so I had to live in a shed for a bit while they built a space for me. But in my family? We kinda lean into whatever life throws at us. It took months of depression to come to terms with it. All of a sudden I couldn’t be out in the sun, and I had new dietary needs that absolutely required non-vegan sources. So I leaned into it. I was a vampire now. I can dig dark colors and “vampire style.” I could make it my own by avoiding leather. And I’d be as vegan as I possibly could.
- You’re kind of awesome.
- Damn straight. So I learned to love the night too and now, here I am.
I gained new respect for her after that. Frankly I feel kinda shitty about making fun of her for being a vampire. There might not be anything paranormally weird about her after all.
She sent me one more text telling me I should talk to a guy named Frankie. She’d gone to school with him. He’s a decent enough guy. Works in the Bicounty mall in town.
I had to wait a day or two for another of Petunia’s get togethers to talk to him.
“Hey!” I said awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to strike up conversation with someone I haven’t really spoken to in a long time. “Frankie, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Been a while. How are you Mason? You okay after that whole thing at Red Nights?”
“I’m trying to be. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You went to school with Trista Ramone, right?”
“Ol’ Boho Ramone? Yeah. We were sort of friendly. But I was a jerk to vegans back then. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been hanging out with her. She’s being all mysterious.” He chuckled at that. “She said I should talk to you to learn more about her… weirdness? Everyone thinks she’s a vampire now.”
“She’s totally a vampire. I have no idea what else to call her?”
“Why do you say that?”
“What did she tell you about school?”
“Nothing. She just showed me two yearbooks. Between Junior and Senior year she went from colorful club president, to lonely vampire, because of her disease.”
“Nah man. I don’t want to talk bad about her. But she was kind of a bitch, junior year. She wasn’t just a colorful vegan. She was one of those “holier than thou” types who scoffed and talked down to anyone who dared to eat meat. Her “hippy” thing meant she never hung out with the popular girls but still, she acted like she owned the place at times. I was friends with this weird guy named Steven Jones. He was just kind of a weirdo. Skulking around in the background, you know? He HATED Trista. For a while I totally understood. I thought she was kinda stuck up. But this guy was like… irrationally enraged by that girl’s existence. I guess he tried to ask her out when he was a freshman and she politely declined. But he took that shit personally.”
“Huh. So like… why’s that matter?”
“Because Steven kept saying to anyone who gave him a second look, that he was gonna ‘ruin’ her. Never elaborated. But then the last month of school rolls around, Trista gets assaulted by an unknown assailant and a week later she’s got this new disease. Meanwhile, Steven spent a week strutting around the school looking smug, and saying ‘she got what she deserved.’ Then he disappears too. Teachers said he moved away.”
“She was assaulted?”
“Yeah. Someone in a face wrap tackled her while she was at one of her protests at the meat factory. The dude freaking BIT her.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was there. I came to the protest. I’ll admit I was trying to hit on Trista or one of the other girls there. But yeah. Dude dressed in all gray with a face wrap just charged in and went right for Trista. Knocked her down, bit her like a freaking zombie, then ran away before anyone could stop him. Didn’t even take his face wrap off. It was freaky, man.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“That’s what we all said. Trista needed a stitch. But while she was at the hospital, I guess she started getting more symptoms. She was out for the rest of the year. From then on, she was like she is now. Total vampire.”
“Was Steven a vampire?”
“I dunno. Probably. Little dickhead is what he is. Must have been him that attacked Trista, but nobody could prove it. Bite mark didn’t match or something. So why are you asking? You hang out with her at night right? You asking her out or something?”
“Oh. No. Just a friend.”
That was all I really learned from Frankie. It’s quite a story, and it’s full of unknowns that Trista refuses to explain. So I guess I’ll let readers be the judge. Is she a “real” vampire? Or just a weirdo? All I know is, she’s totally standing behind me right now and now I’m dead. Bleh.
I did come back to life to talk to Trista once I finished writing this. She enjoyed it. I may as well include that interaction.
I went to her place on my night off. She read my take on her and what the neighbors thought and she grinned. “Ha! I’m a total monster!” She chuckled. “So. What do YOU think, Mason? Am I a vampire?” She cocked an eye and playfully gnashes her teeth at me, making a pleasant little click.
I sighed. “No idea. You’re Trista. And… you’re my friend. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”
She looked surprised by that. “Aw. Thanks Mason. You’re my friend too. It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Absolutely not. We’re both weird shut ins.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It made me happy.
“Yeah but I got the ‘mysterious vampire’ thing going.”
“You have dirt in your hair from rolling around with bunnies. And you’re a vegan.”
“Bite me.”
“Says the vampire.”
“You know, if I were a vampire, I could have bitten you when we both went to the slaughterhouses a few weeks ago.”
“That just makes me stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mason. You’re not a loser either.”
“So. You know of any other good spooky town stories that I can do next?
“Oh, sure. You ever heard the tale of Salome? She was a witch who would mash up the seeds of a Sinapis Alba plant to make a diabolical potion she’d dump on herself. They called her the ‘Witch of the Sands.’”
I’m embarrassed to admit it took me four days to realize Trista was just fucking with me. I only figured it out when I looked up Sinapis Alba and learned that mashing the seeds just makes mustard. “Salomi the sand-witch.” Well played, vampire hippy…
Sexy Neighbor
Haunted Slaughterhouse

This is my first time posting so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make much sense or I’m trauma dumping a lot also a couple trigger warnings, I’m not sure where to start off with. Me and my mom used to be pretty close I’d say up until I started high school. Middle of eighth grade I moved to a new city so I was back to trying to find some friends. I’ve been moving around since I could remember, I used to live in Germany where I moved twice, then moved to the US around the Silicon Valley, moved again, and again and again now we’re here. I wouldn’t be explaining this part of my life if I felt like it didn’t have any weight in this situation. Middle school I found a friend, me and her got pretty close, stuck through Covid together. My mom hated her and not even two years into our friendship my mom started accusing her of stealing from us, being a bad influence and overall just being trashy. Her parents were in the middle of getting a divorce and she had a lot of things going on in her life. I dyed my hair red during this time too while being friends with her, she probably was a huge influence on me but that’s also because it was covid and I was bored and who doesn’t start irrationally bleaching and coloring their hair at 14. I think my mom thought she was a bad influence on that part too because she's the one that first started off coloring her hair like purple and pink etc. My mom never of course said anything to my friend but she made sure I would hear of her disapproval concerning her bad influence in my life. I stopped being friends with her freshman year since my parents banned me from having her over or going to her house, I couldn’t drive neither could she and hanging out at each other's houses was pretty much what we did 80% of the time. I was so frustrated and felt trapped because the only friend I really cared about was someone I wasn’t allowed to associate with anymore. I told her I was done being friends with her over text and blamed it on me just being in a dark place and breaking it off. She was confused and called me a week later about something personal but I just dismissed it. Granted there were other things going on in our friendship but I felt terrible about it especially since her parents were going through that divorce and I just left during such a sensitive time. I hate to admit it but I felt so much better since I started making new friends quickly and started sitting with a new group the next day. Mostly guys and other two girls, it worked out fine for the next year. Junior year my grades started dropping so my parents got stricter, started taking my phone, looking through it, screen time etc. I felt like it was a huge invasion of privacy since my mom would look through my texts. Me and my mom also started arguing weekly about whatever it was but when I mean arguing I mean like full on yelling for two hours down in the living room with no stopping. I can’t do anything about it because whenever I say something remotely disproving her so called “facts'' since she always speaks with so much authority on subjects she wouldn’t even know about I’m the one that has to quiet down from my fathers perspective, and I know this will be mostly about my mom but me and my dad have always been close even when we’re fighting within a week we at least make it up. We play the same sports, have the same humor etc. I understand this might look like us disregarding my mom and I know she cares and loves me yet in certain circumstances she doesn’t show it so of course there’s going to be reasons as to why I’m closer with my dad than her. For example I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 4th grade and of course I wouldn’t expect anyone to know that when you're low you need carbs or when your blood sugar is high you need insulin but my mom to this day still does not understand it. I wouldn’t care even if it’s my friend but as my mom you take so much authority over my life and who I can’t or can hangout with but you don’t know the basics of how I have to manage my life behind closed doors in the house that you and I live in every day. That might sound overdramatic but it’s just something I think about. Also growing up, I’m an only child by the way, I would always play by myself whenever we went on vacation for example to the beach etc. it was always my dad that came and played with me in the sand while at sharing his time with me and my mom so my mom wouldn’t gets upset over him leaving her to go play with me. Even now I notice how my mom would always make snarky comments regarding how my dad always treats me like a princess and cares too much over me. Anywho, since I know this is getting pretty long I’ll try to sum it up a bit more. I started liking one of the guys from that group, I would text him on a daily basis just about whatever. We were pretty awkward in person since I’ve never really talked to that many guys and I don’t think he really had much experience either so we stuck it to mostly phones, everyone else in the group also didn’t know. Once my mom went through my phone on one occasion that night, because she would collect it on some nights and read through my messages in bed she saw one message from that guy calling my mom bipolar and me responding with something like it’s fine like I still love her she freaked out. She told me to never talk to him again and that I’m a brat for talking about my family issues outside of the family etc. I honestly had nobody to talk to. The other two girls in the group didn’t really talk to me at this time, I later became really close with one of them though more on that later and I had no other friends in that town so it was really only him. He had a plethora of family issues that I couldn’t even imagine so I felt like he understood where I was coming from at times better than other kids with American parents. Not sure I mentioned but my parents were both born in Eastern Europe and grew up during heavy communism so that definitely affected them and their parenting style. Anywho, my mom sent me a paragraph to show to him, basically telling him to never talk to me again and that he has to apologize to her etc. After a couple months I think he took me out on a date. I'm not sure what to make of it since it was pretty casual. We just got ice cream. I told my parents that he was only picking me up so we could meet with the rest of the group when of course we’re not. The rest of the guys saw us downtown and found out about it. That kinda really sucked since I’m pretty sure one of them liked me so he got really mad and it kind of ruined the group dynamic. The guy I liked stopped talking to me a couple months in since I couldn’t really do much or go anywhere and dating as a result would be hard so he stopped really talking to me it was pretty off and on since I would get mad stop texting him and then he would try to get back texting at me and once I showed him I cared he’d stop. I was so mad at him and the situation that I refrained myself from talking to him, two weeks later he killed himself. I found out because one of the guys from the group faced me and told me. I went downstairs and started crying and formed the sentences explaining it the best I could, pushing a couple words out at a time. In that very moment I felt so hurt and vulnerable by what just happened my mom responded by just looking at me and saying that he had it coming for him since he probably vaped and drank. My dad ran downstairs since he probably heard me crying and the first thing he did without asking me any questions was hug me. For the first time ever he told my mom to shut up since her trying to ask me questions about how he died just made me sob harder. Over the next week my mom was pretty lenient about letting me go out. The next week she started asking what happened to him. Me and my mom were not close at all anymore at this time. You see mothers and daughters talking about guys or what dress they’re gonna wear to the prom etc in the movies. Me and my mom are not like that. On top of that I was overwhelmed with what happened and as someone does overthinking how things could have played out differently. Anyway I refused to tell her anything saying I was too uncomfortable and over the course of the next couple months of senior year she would get progressively mad and irritated at me to the point of arguing and yelling at me for not trusting her and telling her how he killed himself. I to this day told her nothing but she stopped asking. I don’t know how my dad feeds into this since he’s always so Switzerland about everything when I know I’m right in an argument between me and my mom, however when my mom has leverage he takes her side. Anyway, the beginning of senior year was rough. I hated being in that house and really started seriously considering the only options I felt like I had at the time. I started becoming closer to that one girl from the group earlier, spoiler alert my mom strongly dislikes her now too since she’s a liar and since she’s close with her mom but not her dad that means her parents are having marital issues and therefore her mom is a cheater etc. I don’t understand how she goes from one topic to another and sorts these things into her head. She’s my only friend that I’m really close with and I have been for the past these almost two so hearing this is very disheartening since I’m sending off senior year and I can’t do this again being so close to the end of the year. I forgot to mention but during homecoming I drank for the first time and I had one of my guy friends with his girlfriend and that friend that I’m not friends with drop me off. When he dropped me off he didn’t wave to my mom so she now thinks he’s a bastard in her words and disgusting and she deserves and apology for all the times he’s been over to my house etc. which I honestly think is insane because how do you always have so many issues over my friends and why are you so obsessed with 16 year olds, like you really have beef with high school kids as a 50 year old. Anyway the reason I bring that up is because I invited him over a couple weeks ago for some drills to help one of my other friends with mma since me and him used to wrestle and my mom got mad despite him not being there for me but for my other friends benefit. I’m not sure if this makes any sense. I'm trying to explain the issue best I can without saying too much. Anyway my friend, the one that I’m friends with now, the girl and that guy from the group that didn’t wave at my mom are both Latin so my mom started calling them cheaters and dirty etc when they had nothing to do with anything. This argument spiraled over me asking my mom if I can have a sleepover with those friends since we want to bring a new series on Netflix. Also during prom I asked my parents for 10 dollars since I already had twenty in my account and I wanted to buy hair stuff for prom. They gave me the 10 and I said how I was going to catch a ride with friend A so that when friend A picked me up but friend B that I did not mention in the plan picked me up my parents started calling and texting me. To give some background friend B has been close with me since freshman year, probably the only friend my mom has liked and also the only white friend I have not sure if that has anything do with it but there’s that. She’s really sweet and has been invited over multiple times to my house by my parents, they do really like her. Anywho yet since I didn’t mention that friend B was driving the car since my parents didn’t recognize the new car and knew it wasn’t friend A driving yet assumed it was indeed friend B but since I didn’t mention that they took all the money I had in my account which was only 30 dollars but it was what I needed to get my nails and hair gloss and hair spray for prom, I just started breaking down in the middle of target. I was so excited to get my stick on nails etc since I couldn’t afford to get the acrylics since I was paying for all my prom stuff for the most part. By the way I know that the 10 dollars was initially there so I understand taking away that but the other 20 I made selling my clothes on mercari and I had nothing else like no other cash nothing that was the money I worked on to get my prom stuff. It was mostly my dad actually that got mad at this point taking my money etc and than following a got a text from my mom saying I got what I was coming for by acting the way I have been. There were 3 others with me while I was at target so having three of my friends see me breakdown from me only having 14 cents left in my account was so humiliating. I ended up looking great at prom neither less so don’t even worry about that, my hair looked great and I found some old stick-ons in my laundry room and painted them white lol a couple of them popped off during prom but whatever. This has been really long and thanks to whoever spent their time reading through all of this I’m sorry if the read is a bit of a struggle but I just don’t know what to think or do of this situation. Keep in mind I’m 18 now, never have had a boyfriend, never have do anything, kissed, even held hands romantically etc. it’s one thing you know to not care about any of that but the thing is I do and I want to experience being a teenager and going out and going on dates and not worry about my mom flipping out on one of my friends. While we were in Italy one of the tour guys told her to move on the bus to make more room for others and she started cussing him out telling him to f himself etc for telling her a paying customer where to sit. Everyone started staring at us. I did not want to be there. I just kept my head down the entire time and didn’t really talk to my mom out of embarrassment for the next two days. Also after that prom incident I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere after as a result of go to friend B's birthday bash the next day so my mom texted her without my knowledge and told her not to tell me about how I’ve been acting up and one day I’ll learn when I’m her age but it will be too late and that I don’t know what I’m doing and finishing off my apologizing on my part for my behavior and I’m the reason why I can’t go to her party. Which I find so infuriating because one of the main reasons why I don’t tell my mom anything about my personal life is because I simply don’t want her to have that control of knowing what my life is like, I probably tell the teacher I TA for more than my own biological mother. The fact that she preached family issues in the family so heavily and that you should never talk about issues to others yet goes behind my back and tells my friend that my indecent behavior is the reason why I can’t go is so beyond me because where did your ideals go that you preached so heavily about. Every time I’m around my mom especially when she has her flares of anger I just start shaking like you know when you drink something with a lot of caffeine in the morning and you don’t eat anything so mid way through the day you just start getting jittery and anxious, kind of like that. Ok I think I’m done anyway thank you for tuning in cause I really have to start studying for human geo, thanks for reading up until here 🙂.

** BOTH FRI 5/17 AND SAT 5/18 *\*
Motorcycle Safety Foundation Ride Day New Mexico Motorcycle Safety Program, 3401 Pan American Fwy Take Your First Ride: Ride a motorcycle in 30 min or less for free. MOTO Intro provides the motorcycle, helmet, gloves, and coaching. Free Riding Skills Test: Take the challenge of an advanced MSF course! SKILL Check participants, bring your motorcycle and gear! Please wear over-the-ankle footwear, long pants and long sleeves

• Fri: 2 - 4 PM Skills Check, 4 - 6 PM Moto Intro
• Sat: 2 - 4:30 PM Moto Intro, 4:30 - 6:30 PM Skills Check

Niños and Teeños: Flamenco para todos Carlisle Gymnasium (Elizabeth Waters Center for Dance), UNM, 301 Yale Blvd. NE National Institute of Flamenco presents Niños y Teeños Flamencos in FUTUROS FLAMENCOS. Come see the high-energy flamenco of the National Institute of Flamenco's Student Companies. Don't miss this special showcase by talented youth in our community! (tickets)

• Fri: 7 PM
• Sat: 4 PM

** Fri 5/17 *\*
Fri 4:30 PM Bike to Wherever Day Canteen Brewhouse, 2381 Aztec Rd. NE Learn about exciting bike routes in Albuquerque and grab some cool giveaways to kickstart your cycling adventures. Whether you’re a seasoned cyclist or just starting out, there’s something for EVERYONE at our pop-up table! We'll have Canteen will be volunteering at a table from 6:30-9am and then again at 4:30-6:30am. Receive $1 off your beer if you arrive on your bike
Fri 5 PM Pistachio Cream Ale Release Tractor Brewing, ALL locations We're bringing back this seasonal favorite for American Craft Beer Week! Inspired by pistachios produced right here in New Mexico this brew is as smooth as silk and as tasty and a fresh roasted pistachio. This is a very limited one off for us, so come and get you a pint or growler while supplies last
Fri 5 – 7 PM May Babies Birthday Celebration Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW Starting at 5pm, the first 25 people with May birthdays to show Ryan proof of their birthday month will score a $5 Rio Bravo Brewing Gift Card...oh, and Beers are on special for birthday kids for just $5! But you spend your gift card however you want! Thanks to Cake Fetish...we'll have cupcakes for the May Birthday Kids (while supplies last) We'll have prizes JUST for the May Babies! We'll also have drawings for all you non-birthday folks too If you want to get their before us...All drinks are $1 Off for May Birthdays the whole day!
Fri 5:45 – 7:15 PM 22 Veterans Suicide Awareness WOD BFit505, 11500 Menaul Blvd. NE Each month, Team Bravo & Bfit505 team up to bring awareness to veteran suicide. Before our events, we will take a moment and talk about the issue. Then we will begin with our 22 reps WOD followed by a 2.2 mile ruck/walk/run. Afterwards, we will be going out to eat for social time with friends and family. This event is for all levels
Fri 6 PM Sandia Social - May Hangout Dawn Patrol Coffee Shop, 3619 Copper Ave NE We will be hanging out around the patio and inside starting at 6pm! Bring your friends and come hang out!
Fri 6 PM Pink Therapy, A Latin Dance Fundraiser for Breast Cancer Sobremesa, 3421 Coors Blvd. NW On The One and Pachanga Productions' "Salsa Therapy" night has made its mark in the Latin Dance community, now we are using the symbolism of "Therapy" under "Pink Therapy" but this time it is to fundraise in partnership with the Pink Warrior House Foundation in order to provide outreach and increase resources for those warriors battling against breast cancer. On The One and Pachanga productions will be involved in community outreach and utilizing our resources to help those in need. Cover charge is a SUGGESTED $20 donation (ALL PROCEEDS GO TO Pink Warrior House Foundation). Cocktail hour from 6-7 PM (purchases go to PWH on selected drinks). Dance lesson from 7-8 PM. Open dance floor 8-12 AM. Be aware of Media/News coverage. We need everyone's assistance with this, PLEASE SHARE FAR AND WIDE, those warriors battling breast cancer need our help. Let's do our part. We are asking for the entire Latin dance community to come out and support. This will be one of many fundraisers that we do for organizations like PWH. Lets use our dance skills to help those in need!
Fri 6 – 8 PM May Flowers Stampin' Bingo (in person) Hip Stitch, 2320 Wisconsin St. NE Cost is $35 for 6 rounds of bingo, prizes, and make n' takes! Message for more info or to register
Fri 6 – 8:30 PM Los Domingueros Live El Vado, 2500 Central Ave SW Prepare for an unforgettable fusion of Latin dance beats and rock energy as Friday Night Live at El Vado proudly presents New Mexico's premier menudo-based band, Los Domingueros! Few bands can match the infectious joy and vibrant rhythms that they bring to the stage. A multi-talented group of musicians, they take listeners on a musical journey like no other. From the pulsating rhythms of salsa, bachata, and cumbia to the high-energy vibes of ska and reggae, sprinkled with a dash of punk and thrash, their eclectic repertoire promises an exhilarating experience for all. As always, treat your taste buds to a delightful selection of culinary delights from our diverse food pods. From savory stir-fries to tantalizing Latin flavors and heavenly desserts, there's something to satisfy every craving. And don't overlook the opportunity to quench your thirst with a crisp craft beer from Ponderosa Brewing Company, conveniently available at the El Vado Tap Room
Fri 6 – 10 PM Fork Cancer Gala FUSION ABQ, 700-708 1st St. NW The American Cancer Society is hosting Albuquerque's second #ForkCancerAbq fundraising event. VIP 6pm - 7pm. Gala 7pm - 10pm. Dress Code: Gala Attire. #ForkCancerNM is a foodie's dream, with local restaurants and bars bringing out their best to truly showcase the Taste of Albuquerque while raising money for the American Cancer Society's life-saving mission in New Mexico supporting Access to Care like patient transportation, patient lodging and 24/7 support. Along with life saving research and grants. With great opportunities to raise money, we will also have live entertainment! (tickets)
Fri 6:30 – 10 PM Community Movie Night South Valley Multipurpose Center, 2008 Larrazolo Rd. SW Feature of the night: In The Heights. Bring your dinner, blankets and chairs. Please no glass containers
Fri 7 PM Movie In The Park ABQ Food Park, 6901-B San Antonio Dr. NE ABQ Food Park is bringing back Movies In The Park, starting off the summer with a screening of The Sandlot. Arrive early to get your face painted by Local Locas Facepainting before settling in with your blankets, chairs, and appetite for a delightful evening at the park with loved ones. Indulge in delicious fare from our food trucks while enjoying this timeless film under the stars. Please do not bring outside food as we have a variety of food options at the park. Please support our local food vendors. Entry is free! Reserve your tickets
Fri 7 – 10 PM Emerald Ball Holiday Dance Studio, 5200 Eubank Blvd. NE, Ste D Celebrate the enchanting month of May by donning your finest emerald attire. Bring in the vibrant spring season by joining us in elegant semi-formal wear of rich verdant colors and dance the night away! A Foxtrot lesson will begin the evening at 7pm followed by open dancing. Call 505-508-4020 for more information. $30 non-members
Fri 8 PM – 2 AM Sucia EDC Gogo Takeover Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Sucia Productions is bringing the Electric Sky to Sidewinders! No need to have EDC FOMO because Papa Sucia is ready to bring the party to you! Come join your Sucia Family for a Night of PLUR! Featuring the Sucia Gogos on multiple boxes and individual dances available in the Cabaret Room! Hosted by Papa Sucia and Sucia Gogo Madam Sativa Rico-Stratton. DJ Unzipped will be bringing the you the best EDM set for you to dance the night away!
Fri 9 PM – 1:30 AM Callaita Fridays Salt Yard West, 3700 Ellison Rd. NW DJ Soiree will be spinning under the stars in the Salt Yard, promising a night of electrifying Latin music. This 21+ event guarantees an atmosphere where you can fully embrace the rhythm without inhibition. Whether you're a die-hard fan of Reggaeton or simply seeking a night of unparalleled fun, "Callaita Fridays" is the place to be
Fri 10:30 PM – 12:15 AM FACELESS AFTER DARK - new meta horror starring Jenna Kanell of "Terrifier"! The Guild Cinema, 3405 Central Ave NE All Seats $8. Check out the trailer. Dir. Raymond Wood - 2023 - 82m. Following her breakout success as the star of a killer clown horror flick, Bowie (Jenna Kanell, TERRIFIER) now finds herself struggling to capitalize on its success. But when she is suddenly held hostage by an unhinged fan posing as that same killer clown, horror becomes her reality as she fights to survive the night and escape before he completes his sinister plan to recreate the film's fatal plot (tickets)
** Sat 5/18 *\*
Sat 8 – 10 AM Planting Corn Seeds Lynn Garden, 176 Manierre Rd., Corrales We will be planting corn seeds; a new crop for Seed2Need this year!
Sat 8 – 10 AM Run for Mercy 5K Sagebrush Community Church, 6440 Coors Blvd. NW Join our team to run with us to support Mercy Multiplied, which exists to provide opportunities for all to experience God's unconditional love, forgiveness, and life-transforming power. Mercy offers free-of-charge Residential and Outpatient Counseling Programs, as well as Outreach Services that include workshops and trainings, our Keys to Freedom discipleship study, and Keys to Freedom Retreat (register)
Sat 8 AM – 12 PM Downtown Growers' Market Robinson Park, 810 Copper Ave NW Every Saturday from 8 am - NOON! This vibrant community event connects local farmers, growers, artisans, wellness makers, and hot food vendors with the local community from mid-April to early-November. Bring friends / family or come solo to enjoy fresh food made on sight, a variety of seasonal produce, unique arts and crafts, live music, and special programming all in the heart of downtown
Sat 8 AM – 2 PM Rio Rancho's Biggest Yard Sale Cabezon Park and Community Center, 2307 Cabezon Blvd. SE, Rio Rancho FREE Admission! Clean out your garage, spare bedroom, attic and shed. Come join us to sell all of those items that were collecting dust, find a treasure that you didn’t know you needed, and enjoy a day in the park! Vendor space $35 for a 15’ x 15’ space (Tables and chairs are not provided) Must register online, NO Drop-Ins Accepted. Please call the Cabezon Community Center at 505-892-4499 for more info
Sat 9 AM Send Haley to Spain Sand Volleyball Tournament Charlie’s Sandbox, 4335 Paseo del Norte NE All proceeds go to Haley and her trip to Spain in July! $20/per player. All Skill levels! Prizes for 1st & 2nd place. 4-6 players Coed with 1 female on team. Check in @ 8:30am. More info: Jillian (505) 322-7228, Haley (505) 331-4788, Charlie (505) 239-2461
Sat 9 AM Invisible Heroes Run Believers Center of Albuquerque, 320 Waterfall Dr. SE Join Runfit and the American Society of Radiologic Technologists for the inaugural Invisible Heroes 5K Run/Walk. It is a community event being held to recognize the vital role that medical imaging professionals and radiation therapists play on the health care team and to introduce the public to these vital health care professionals. You are invited to run and walk to celebrate the important work done by invisible heroes. At packet pick-up, you will have an opportunity to tour the ASRT Museum and Archives. Age group, overall, and team awards, including a great t-shirt and finisher medals for all participants (register)
Sat 9 AM - 4 PM 16th Annual CTC Vintage Tractor & Car Show Corrales Recreation Center, 500 Jones Rd., Corrales Join us for a fun day in the Corrales Park. There will be music, food, hot rods, tractor, stationary engines and more. Proceeds Raised will benefit Corrales 4H and Historical Society. Free admission. $10 for show participants
Sat 10 AM – 12 PM Foraging for Fun(ds) Los Poblanos Open Space, 1800 Tierra Viva Pl. NW Join Rev. Ryan Tate on a foraging excursion! Rev. Tate, of the African American spiritual tradition and an IPL board member, wants to bring their loving knowledge of NM edibles and herbs to you. Discover the food right under your nose and how easy it is to enjoy! We’ll meet to explore and harvest native and edible plants. Enter the Open Space area from west bound Montano Boulevard. After foraging, we’ll gather to taste our harvest and other locally sourced treats. Sign up today to participate - space is limited. This is a fundraiser for our work for climate justice: Please give generously (Suggested minimum donation $10)
Sat 10 AM – 3 PM Homebrewer's Happy Hour Southwest Grape & Grain, 3401 Candelaria Blvd. NE Homebrewer's Happy Hour is the perfect chance for all homebrewers, wine makers, distillers, or anyone interested in learning, to connect with others, share a drink, and learn about a new subject each month! $1 off beers from 10am to 3pm. Presentation on monthly subject at 1pm with open forum to discuss after. Food truck on site for lunch! May 18th - Barley
Sat 10:30 – 11:30 AM Animal Tales with the ABQ BioPark Ernie Pyle Library, 900 Girard Blvd. SE Dive into the captivating world of animals with "Animal Tales" presented by the ABQ BioPark! Join us for a delightful reading session featuring an animal-themed book. Experience the magic as the BioPark brings along real animals and biofacts that connect to the story, giving kids an exciting opportunity to meet these creatures up close! Don't miss this engaging and educational adventure for young animal enthusiasts!
Sat 10:30 AM – 12:30 PM FolkMADS Third Saturday Family Dance Albuquerque Square Dance Center, 4915 Hawkins St. NE Dancing, song, and live music for kids of all ages. No experience needed to have fun! Children must be accompanied by an adult. Children dance free, Adults $10
Sat 11 AM – 1 PM Annual Summer Kick-Off Event! Matheson Park Elementary, 10809 Lexington Ave NE Join us as we kick off the summer with fun, a food truck, face painting, dunk tank, and more! Bring your family and your pets for a Blessing of the Pets. There is no cost to attend and all are welcome!
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Wine + Art Afternoons Gruet Winery, 8400 Pan American East Fwy NE Prism Arts presents a new public art and social series with a special one-day multi-artist event. Join us inside the Gruet Winery with a selection of fine art, prints, paintings, jewelry, and ceramics from local artists Vanessa Alvarado, Eric Romero, Margarita Paz-Pedro, & Aaron Richardson. Enjoy unique art, amazing fine, food, and a social environment with the artists and the public. *All art purchases receive a complimentary bottle of Gruet Wine*
Sat 11 AM – 3 PM Bernalillo Family Fun Festival! Calvary Church, 4001 Osuna Rd. NE Get connected to community and enjoy a Fun Family Day!
Sat 11:30 AM – 4 PM Imaginary Friends Fest Flix Brewhouse, 3200 La Orilla Rd. NW Let your imagination run wild! Join us in the lobby to celebrate the opening of IF! Enjoy photo ops, freebies, an in-theater giveaway, and activities for the whole family. All ages are welcome!
Sat 12 PM BBQ n' Crawl Supper Rock Park, 598 Monte Alto Pl. NE Mini Crawlers 505 and Duke City RC are throwing a BBQ and crawl sesh! All rigs welcome! Please mark going if you are, so we can get enough food!
Sat 12 PM May Brew Tour - Farewell Tour Rio Bravo Brewing, 1912 2nd St. NW This is the last NM Brew Ha-Ha Beer tour for the season. The 24-25 season will start in June 2025 so stay tuned for the season lineup release. Rio Bravo Brewing, Ponderosa Brewing, Bow & Arrow Brewing, Juno Brewery. At Rio Bravo, a DD will be selected, then we’ll head to the other breweries in the order listed. T-shirts, if ordered will be delivered. For safety, a breathalyzer is available, a DD will be established and a liability waiver will be signed by all participants. Safety is of utmost importance. We want everyone to enjoy their tour and arrive home safely
Sat 12 PM Drag Bingo & Brunch! All Ages Welcome! Sidewinders Bar and Grill, 4200 Central Ave SE Join us for a Drag Queen Bingo and Brunch benefitting The Albuquerque Roadrunner Tournament 2024 (coming up in September). Hosted by Priscilla Bouvier. Doors 12pm. Show 1pm. Bingo, Prizes, Giveaways, Raffles, Cocktails, Mocktails and Fun!
Sat 12 PM Empire's 9th Anniversary - FREE PLAY ALL DAY Empire Board Game Library, 3503 Central Ave NE It's Empire's 9th Anniversary celebration and you're invited! We've been here 9 years and it's all thanks to the support we get from you, so to show our appreciation, this Saturday's celebration is our gift to you: Come in and play for free all day! Every game is on sale all weekend! We're holding raffles over the course of the day to give away some great games! So come on down and let us thank you!
Sat 12 – 3 PM STOODIS!: An AIDS/LifeCycle Fundraising Event Soo Bak Seoul Bowl, 111 Hermosa Dr. SE Help Vanessa Bowen cross the finish line – the fundraising finish line, that is! Vanessa is on a mission to raise $3,500 to participate in the 2024 AIDS/LifeCycle, a 545-mile charity bike ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles from June 2nd to 8th, 2024. Join this special fundraising event and send-off party for an afternoon of entertainment, vendors, bike tune-ups, raffle, and food and drink specials. Come prepared to support our local vendors and find out how you can win our selected giveaways. AIDS/LifeCycle benefits, and is jointly produced by, San Francisco AIDS Foundation (Tax ID # 94-2927405) and Los Angeles LGBT Center (Tax ID # 95-3567895), each of which is a nonprofit, public benefit corporation recognized as tax exempt under IRS Code Section 501(c)(3). Donations to AIDS/LifeCycle are deductible for income tax purposes, to the extent permitted by law. Vanessa Bowen (They/Them) is a Diné (Navajo) product designer and cyclist. Their work gravitates toward the intersection of design and social equity. Bowen is a former Outride Ambassador, current Chamois Butt’r and Kuat Racks Ambassador, founder of Get Native Kids on Bikes, and a supporter of AIDS/LifeCycle. If not creating in their studio in Albuquerque, they are training for a cycling event or community building for a just, equitable future (more info)
Sat 12 – 5 PM Day Camp - A Festival for Families Tin Can Alley, 6013 Signal Ave NE Day Camp is where adventure meets education, creativity, and community in a fair-like environment where a variety of youth development organizations are excited to share their programs. In partnership with Warehouse 505, and featuring organizations such as Explora, there will be workshops ands expos for kids to discover new passions across music, art, science, and more. Supporting Youth Security & Education, all dedicated funds raised will be going to New Mexico non-profit organizations
Sat 12 – 5 PM Monthly Pinball Tournament Sister, 407 Central Ave NW All skill levels and players welcome! 21+ Sign up starts at 12 pm; tournament play starts at 1 p.m. Entry fee is $5 + coin drop
Sat 1 – 5 PM United in Beer Collaboration Festival Ex Novo Brewing, 4895 Corrales Rd., Corrales United in Beer is a New Mexico statewide collaborative beer festival that benefits the Somos Unidos Foundation with 26 participating breweries, which were randomly partnered through a live draft and then together selected the beer style they would collaborate on. All beers will be showcased at the festival. Tickets are limited. Portions of ticket sales will donated to Somos Unidos Foundation, a 501(c)(3) dedicated to creating positive outcomes for New Mexicans through art, sport, community, and unity. This will be a 21+ Event. Food trucks will be on site. Included with ticket purchase is: Festival access, 8 drink tokens, and a United In Beer glass! We recommend bringing: Sunscreen, your friends, and good vibes
Sat 1 – 10 PM Boots In The Park Presents Thomas Rhett, Chris Young & Friends! Balloon Fiesta Park, 5000 Balloon Fiesta Pkwy Dust off your boots and get ready to holler, because Boots In The Park is making it's way to Albuquerque, y'all! Join us for a rootin', tootin', two-steppin' good time with none other than Thomas Rhett, Chris Young, Chris Janson, Kameron Marlowe, Dylan Schneider, Leaving Austin and beats by Luwiss Lux. We're talking about an evening filled to the brim with live tunes, finger-lickin' craft food, and the smoothest cocktails. We'll be kicking up dust with some good ol' line dancing and a whole heap more, as Balloon Fiesta Park is transformed into Albuquerque's best country music party! Past folks to grace the Boots In The Park stage are Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton, Tim McGraw, Cody Johnson, Jon Pardi and a bunch of other country legends. But this day is gonna be one for the record books, a show that will leave y'all talking for years to come (tickets)
Sat 2 PM Annual Castro Concerto Competition Albuquerque Youth Symphony, 4407 Menaul Blvd. NE Join us to hear talented high school juniors compete for the privilege of performing with the Youth Symphony during the Albuquerque Youth Symphony Program's 2024-2025 concert season! This event is free and open to the public. We also plan to stream this event live on Facebook for anyone not able to attend in person
Sat 2 PM "Greatest Moments" - a fundraising concert for Opera On Tap New Mexico Central United Methodist Church, 201 University Blvd. NE Join us for an afternoon of music to help raise money for Opera on Tap - New Mexico! Featuring some faculty and students of University of New Mexico, along with other local professionals, we have put a program together highlighting some of the show-stopping, beautiful moments of opera and musical theater! Suggested donation $10
Sat 2 – 7 PM Rawking: An Afternoon Metal + Art + Comedy Extravaganza Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Featured performers include Light Thief, Destroy to Recreate, Guvtika, Abandoned Saviors. outdoors on the patio with Four Bands, Comedians, Artists, Vendors. Produced by Metal World Radio. 21+. $10 at the door or presales online
Sat 3 – 8 PM Albuquerque Roller Derby presents: Sandia Slammers vs. Bosque Bruisers! Expo New Mexico - Manuel Lujan Jr Exhibit Complex, 300 San Pedro Dr. NE Albuquerque Roller Derby has gotten SO big we’ve split into two teams! Sandia Slammers & Bosque Bruisers! Get your tickets for our first Home Game of the 2024 season
Sat 3:45 – 5:45 PM AND 7 - 9 PM The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 Flix Brewhouse, 3236 La Orilla Rd. NW Experience the Twilight saga's epic romance and thrilling fantasy BREAKING DAWN - PART 1 on the big screen! Bella and Edward, plus those they love, must deal with the chain of consequences brought on by a marriage, honeymoon, and the tumultuous birth of a child, which brings about unforeseen and shocking developments for Jacob Black (tickets)
Sat 4 – 8 PM Drink Local Downtown ABQ - May Step into the heart of Albuquerque with our thrilling, free monthly bar crawl event! Immerse yourself in the local charm as we celebrate community, culture, and creativity right in the heart of ABQ. In partnership with ABQCore Neighborhood Association, a locally organized and hosted event, we're bringing you a bar crawl experience like no other. This isn't just a crawl; it's a vibrant celebration of local businesses, a showcase of community talent, and a monthly escape into the unique flavors that make ABQ special
Sat 4 – 9 PM Summer Market ABQ Food Park, 6951 San Antonio Dr. NE Dive into the magic of summer evenings at ABQ Food Park with our captivating Summer Market! Join us for a delightful evening, where you can browse an enchanting array of offerings from local artisans and support our vibrant community businesses. Discover unique treasures crafted with love and passion by talented artisans, from handcrafted jewelry to exquisite home decor. Every purchase you make supports local creators and contributes to the thriving arts scene in our city
Sat 5 – 8 PM National Astronomy Day! Rainbow Park Observatory, 301 Southern Blvd SE, Rio Rancho The Rio Rancho Astronomical Society will host National Astronomy Day at Rainbow Park Observatory. There will be food for a donation, family activities and safe solar viewing. Dr. Tony Hull will appeal at 7 pm about his work on the James Webb Space Telescope. He will also have some info on light pollution
Sat 5 – 11 PM Beer & Jazz on the Hill Tractor Brewing, 122 Tulane Dr. SE We're bringing you a full night of brews and Jazz with the very talented Rona & Meli opening things up at 5pm and our house Jazz band Basilaris Trio closing things down at 8!
Sat 6 PM Bear Affair 4: Spanish Tapas Beer Pairing Dinner Boxing Bear Brewing, 8420 Firestone Ln. NE Join us on our patio for an ALMOST summer night paired with a variety of our seasonal beers, chef-crafted Spanish tapas, and flamenco. Featuring chef Christopher Midyette And the artist dance group Spanish Broom. Tickets are $65 per person and include a welcome beer, three course tapas style meal with beer pairings and entertainment for the evening
Sat 6 PM One Year Anniversary Celebration Urbanmama505 Kombucha, 1014 Central Ave SW, Ste A Celebrating one year of love, abundance, and sharing wellness. Right after Open Mic 4-6pm, we will be graced with a jazz concert by Davis Nelson-Hooker, an amazing local musician. Elixirs and small plates for purchase
Sat 6 – 9 PM Gone Country Saturdays with DJ Soiree Ponderosa Brewing, 1761 Bellamah Ave NW It's Gone Country Saturdays featuring the amazing DJ Soiree! Start your evening with free dance lessons at 5 pm, followed by family-friendly entertainment
Sat 7:30 – 9 PM Saturday Night Stand-Up Bosque Brewing Co - Nob Hill, 106 Girard Blvd. SE Live from ABQ, it’s… Saturday Night Stand-Up Hosted by Nax Davis! Every third Saturday of the month! Seating at 7:30 - Comedy at 8. Featured line-up of local comics includes: MEG FINN, BRYAN LAMBE, SARINA OCHOA, MARY BYRD, ROBERT EYSTER
Sat 8 PM – 1:15 AM Apparition Goth Night Historic El Rey Theater, 622 Central Ave SW A hauntingly dark, classic goth night featuring the Apparition team: DJ Ren, DJ Batboy, DJ Moonside. Doors at 8. $10 all night. 21+ Tickets at the door. Expect goth, darkwave, death rock, synthpop, dark post punk, ebm, dark dance, industrial, witch house, horror punk and more
Sat 8:30 PM – 1 AM SABOR Latin Night - SATURDAYS Bama's 1865, 6007 Osuna Rd. NE May 11th - SPECIAL GUEST DJ ITALIA! DJ Gabriel Goza & DJ Pedro will be serving you the saucy Salsa, Bachata, Cumbia, Merengue y Mas! Ample Parking, Safe Environment, Beautiful Venue, Good Food, Good Music, Good Vibes. 21+ / $10 cover
Sat 9 PM – 1 AM Cumbia + Rock en Espanol Juno, 1501 1st St. NW Grupo Super Verza with Ave. 69 and Lot Beat and DJ Tony. Baila! 21+, $15 at the door or online
** Sun 5/19 *\*
Sun 9 – 11 AM Elevated Roller Derby May Training Scrimmage Heights Community Center, 823 Buena Vista Dr. SE Officials' huddle 9:00AM. Captains' meeting at 9:20AM. First whistle 9:30AM. This is simply a black/white scrimmage. It will be used as an educational opportunity. NSO paperwork will be used as appropriate. You are encouraged to stretch your skills. Hospitality: This is a low/no production scrimmage, bring beverages and snacks for your own use. Bathrooms: The community center may not be open during the scrimmage. (That's the trade-off for a free space). You can stop at the nearby Starbucks before the event. Expectations: Skaters and Skating and Non-skating Officials are expected to follow all WFTDA Risk Management Guidelines. The venue is a designated alcohol, drug, and smoke-free space by the city of Albuquerque (sign up)
Sun 10 AM – 2 PM The Great Burque Bake On Rail Yards Market, 777 1st St. SW Get ready to whisk it all at the "Great Burque Bake-on," a special fundraiser for the non-profit Rail Yards Market: One dozen of Albuquerque's most talented bakers will dough head-to-head in a crusty competition for the ultimate bakery glory! Bakers brawl... You vote for the winners! This sugar-dusted showdown promises a blend of flour-fueled drama and buttery bravado, making it the yeast you can do to support your local confectionery champions. As these culinary wizards knead their way to the top, we guarantee you'll find their efforts both batter and sweeter than anything you've tasted before. Join us for a day of laughter, pastry, and a chance to see who rises as the crème de la crème of Burque's baking scene! 1) ORDER > Claim your Bake-on Box & exclusive market swag by ordering online May 10-16th, 2024. 2) LEARN > Follow our social media to learn about each contestant & their offering. 3) PICKUP > Grab your box of baked goodies & swag at the info booth Sunday May 19th. 4) ENJOY > Eat all the delectable goodies, savor the flavor, and read about all the contestants 5) VOTE >> Submit your votes online to choose the winners! (tickets) The Farmers' Market event is going down simultaneously with 175+ local vendors to explore, and is still FREE to enter and welcome to all. This funky fundraiser is going down during the FREE Rail Yards Farmers' Market. So you can peruse 150+ small businesses and enjoy the historic architecture while you enjoy your Great Burque Bake-on Box of goodies! All proceeds will benefit the Rail Yards Market. The Rail Yards market of Albuquerque is a certified 501(c)3 non-profit focused on building a resilient, sustainable, local economy where the surrounding historic communities thrive, all can participate, and everyone is enriched and inspired. Through food, art, education, and music, we invite the community together in an inclusive and festive atmosphere
Sun 11:30 AM The Addams Family Historic Lobo Theater, 3013 Central Ave NE THE HISTORIC LOBO THEATER is excited to bring The Addams Family to the big screen! Showing Starts at 11:30 am Tickets are ONLY $10 for General Admission $25 Brunch and a Movie Ticket $21 Brunch Only ticket
Sun 12:30 PM Annual Spring Tea Asbury UMC, 10000 Candelaria Rd. NE All are welcome to attend our Annual Spring Tea! This year's theme is "The Tapestries of Our Lives." Life can be like a tapestry; our quilt, with events, feelings, accomplishments, and even disappointments "stitched" in. Join us, for tea, while Cindy Kurey, AQS-certified quilted textiles appraiser, shares how quilting and her faith have helped her navigate life. She will also show her collection of antique, vintage, and modern quilts! There is no cost to attend, though RSVPs are required. Please call the church office 505-299-0643 or message us on Facebook to RSVP
Sun 1 PM Ruck Club May Callout - Rain Ruck North Domingo Baca Park, 8301 Wyoming Blvd. NE Since we are in Albuquerque, we will get creative to find water. No weight requirement; use your regular training weight. We will be rucking at least 5 miles. Hosted by F3 Albuquerque, which plants free, peer-led workout groups for men, but this event isn't just for men! Everybody is welcomed and encouraged to participate in this GORUCK monthly callout. Bring water, electrolytes, sunscreen. Expect to get wet, and dress accordingly
Sun 2 - 4 PM Film Screening: "Between the Stone and the Flower" JCC of Greater Albuquerque, 5520 Wyoming Blvd. NE The film follows the journey of Genie of Milgrom and her decades long quest for her Jewish lineage inspired the film. She was born in Havana, Cuba and raised in Miami as a full Catholic. She was always burdened with a deep-rooted feeling of not belonging in her Spanish Catholic environment. Genie becomes more and more convinced that her family was Jewish in the Iberian Peninsula centuries before. Intro and Q&A with Filmmaker, Genie Milgrom (register for free)
Sun 2 – 3:30 PM Cuidando los Niños Fundraiser Cookie Class Sweet Pea Bakery, 2500 Central Ave SW Join us for a fun night out while making an impact in our community! Light House Studio and Sweet Pea Bakery are teaming up to host a cookie decorating class to benefit Cuidando los Ninos. This will be a full 1.5 hour class where local cookie artist Katie Sacoman walks you through decorating three floral themed sugar cookies. Each participant also receives a personalized cookie with their name on it. 50% of each ticket sold goes to benefit Cuidando los Ninos, a local organization working to break the cycle of homelessness for children and families by providing high-quality early childhood education, case management, supportive housing, and parent education. *This class will be good for participants age 10 and up. Please keep in mind it is an hour and a half long guided class. You know your child best!*

Without going into too much detail based off childhood experiences, I definitely ended up caring too much about what others think of me or perceive of me. I lack self confidence and esteem admittedly. I knew I was a boy ever since I could remember during childhood and everyone thought it was just a phase and me being a tomboy. I somewhat normalized to my assigned gender halfway through middle school to end of junior year in high school. It never felt right and I was often uncomfortable with myself. I even forced myself to wear dresses and I just couldn’t feel good about it. I would get extremely offended by sexist comments, whether it be in movies or in real life.
I realized the summer of my junior year in high school after taking a creative writing and media studies class that I actually was a guy inside this whole time. I was so scared to tell my mom that I wrote it on flash card. I’ve never felt a pain like I did that summer. I literally locked myself in the bathroom for hours on end just hating my body, and not once did my parents take me in to start transitioning. I was very close to being suicidal. I feel like if I just asked to be taken in then transitioning would have been so much easier. Now here I am a decade later and very fearful of my parents seeing the physical changes. I feel like a coward that I care so much what they think. My dad is extremely judgmental and anything he doesn’t agree with he can get angry and almost belligerent. He isn’t outwardly transphobic but seems to not acknowledge me as a guy. He basically called me fat recently to give an example of him being judgmental.
I feel so angry at my parents in all honesty. Angry that I’ve let myself down for this long in fear of what others would think of me. I’m just so anxious and I feel myself trying to convince myself to not go through with this. It’s a constant wavering of am I doing this or not. It’s exhausting.
Tldr; Very scared to start T in fear of others reactions to me, especially my parents. I don’t know how to quell the anxiety but I’ve sacrificed my authentic self for people pleasing long enough

Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!

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"Thank you, Sister Song, for your mercy. I apologize for my impulsiveness and arrogance," Qin Bai said humbly. He respectfully cupped his hands and bowed his head towards Song Jia.
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Upon hearing Qin Bai's unexpected words of apology, one of his burlier underlings gasped loudly in shock, his eyes widening. "Brother Qin..." he muttered under his breath.
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"No need to apologize. It was our fault for causing trouble," another wiry underling exclaimed tearfully, his voice cracking with emotion as he drew the attention of the rest of the surrounding disciples.
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A young man with a mop of unruly brown hair pushed his way through the tightly packed crowd, concern furrowing his brow as he observed the doubt and skepticism on the faces of Qin Bai's underlings.
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"It wasn't Brother Qin's fault," he spoke up firmly, his words cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
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All eyes turned towards him as the courtyard fell into an uneasy silence broken only by the faint rustling of the willows in the warm breeze. "We were the ones who harassed Sister Song. Brother Qin tried to stop us, but we didn't listen. Please, don't blame our Brother for our mistakes."
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Some of the disciples who had witnessed the earlier confrontation were about to protest vehemently, their mouths opening to object, but their voices were drowned out by a rising swell of murmuring whispers and incredulous mutters.
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"So it wasn't Qin Bai who harassed Sister Song?"
‎
"What a kind-hearted person! Qin Bai truly possesses the noble spirit of a warrior, even willing to shield his misguided brothers from the consequences of their errors!"
‎
The majority of the late-arriving male disciples, unaware of the deception and lies surrounding the incident, were moved by this apparent show of brotherhood and loyalty, causing the female disciples to clench their jaws in frustration, exchanging exasperated looks and rolling their eyes.
‎
"What's wrong with them...disgusting!" A petite girl with fiery brown hair tied back in a long braid spat out through gritted teeth.
‎
"You think it's acceptable to bully and harass women just because you perceive them as weak?!" Another young woman wearing a sleeveless white robe called out harshly, her voice dripping with scorn as the sunlight glinted off her toned arms.
‎
"Sister Song, please tell them the truth! Don't let them twist the facts!" Cries imploring Song Jia to speak up rang out as disapproving comments and displeased looks were directed at the males vehemently defending Qin Bai's underlings one after another.
‎
Song Jia's lips pressed into a tense line as her focus shifted towards Qin Bai, who still had his head respectfully bowed, his expression unreadable.
‎
If he had spoken out in agreement, it would have surely validated the false accusations against him. However, his loyal underlings spoke as if they themselves were guilty, deliberately complicating the situation.
‎
Qin Bai's words and sincere tone seemed to suggest that nothing untoward had happened from his perspective, causing both Song Jia and the stern-faced Lian Rougang to narrow their eyes suspiciously at him, wondering about his true intentions.
‎
Meanwhile, Lian Rougang shook her head slowly and massaged her temples with her fingers, exhaling a weary sigh. "Sigh...whatever, if you insist, then take responsibility," she muttered under her breath.
‎
Her piercing gaze bored into the eyes of Qin Bai's uneasy underlings, who flinched visibly. She snorted derisively before shifting her penetrating stare towards Qin Bai, who remained utterly still with his head bowed in a posture of contrition.
‎
The salty tang of sweat and tension hung thick in the warm air as Lian Rougang broke the heavy silence. "As members of our esteemed sect, we should not hold deep grudges against one another. We are essentially a family, united by our bond, so..." Her words trailed off as she glanced sidelong at Song Jia from the corner of her eye.
‎
Their eyes met briefly, and although mistrust still flickered behind Song Jia's guarded expression, she gave a reluctant nod, grudgingly accepting Qin Bai's apologies for the sake of harmony within the sect.
‎
Once she accepted, Qin Bai cupped his hands and bowed his head again, this time not towards Song Jia, but towards the stern-faced Lian Rougang.
‎
"Thank you, Senior Sister Lian, for overseeing this meaningless battle," he expressed his gratitude, his deep voice sincere.
‎
In response, Lian Rougang waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, implying that it was not a significant matter. As the gathered disciples surrounded them, observing Qin Bai's second apology with a mix of emotions, the central figure of Wu Gao finally arrived onto the scene.
‎
"Huh? What's going on here?" Wu Gao, dressed in the same austere martial robes as Lian Rougang, strode into the outer disciple courtyard. He found all the Outer Disciples ringed around the center in a loose circle, as if giving a wide berth to something distasteful.
‎
"Greetings, Martial Brother Wu," Lian Rougang called out immediately upon noticing the arrival of Wu Gao, her clear voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.
‎
"Ah, Martial Sister Lian, greetings," Wu Gao responded with a slightly startled blink, recovering quickly to return the courtesy with a polite nod as his observant gaze swept over the gathered disciples ringed around the courtyard.
‎
"Greetings, Senior Brother Wu," the remaining Outer Disciples chorused in respectful unison, following Lian Rougang's prompt. Her posture straightened as she proceeded to recount a brief explanation of the confrontation that had just transpired.
‎
Wu Gao listened with an increasingly widening smile, nodding repeatedly in understanding. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he caught sight of Song Jia standing tall with chin raised confidently.
‎
He then shifted his evaluating gaze towards Qin Bai, noting the absence of any lingering resentment or hostility in the young man's clear, guileless eyes.
‎
"Ah, that's good, good. Both of you have done well in resolving the matter," Wu Gao declared heartily, his rich baritone voice carrying easily across the courtyard.
‎
"But unfortunately, I missed this exciting battle. No matter, let us now prepare for the morning exercise!"
‎
"Please wait, Senior Brother Wu!" However, just as the disciples began to disperse and take their positions, Qin Bai's sudden shout caused Wu Gao's bushy brows to furrow in surprise.
‎
Even Lian Rougang, who had already started to fade back into the background, eager to observe the coming exercises, paused and turned her sharp gaze back towards Qin Bai with renewed interest.
‎
A heavy, expectant silence fell over the courtyard once more as all eyes focused intently on the young disciple. The warm morning breeze carried the faint fragrance of willow blossoms, teasing strands of hair across flushed cheeks.
‎
"Speak, Junior Brother," Wu Gao urged after a prolonged moment, his deep voice resonant.
‎
...
‎
As the gathered disciples leaned in with rapt attention, Ji Wuye, who had been watching the proceedings with a carefully impassive expression from within the crowd, allowed the barest flicker of a sneer to crease his thin lips in secret.
‎
‘So this is what you're truly aiming for? You think you can regain your tarnished reputation and take it out on me in the process?’
‎
The disdainful thoughts flickered through his mind like a fleeting shadow as he noticed Qin Bai's brief sidelong glance in his direction. Their eyes met for the briefest of instants, but Ji Wuye did not flinch or waver, holding the other's gaze with a practiced insouciance.
‎
"I would like to request another official sparring session with Brother Ji," Qin Bai proclaimed boldly, his resonant words instantly capturing the rapt attention of every disciple present.
‎
A surprised murmur rippled through the ranks as heads swiveled towards the object of this unexpected challenge.
‎
Qin Bai's lips curved into a thin, enigmatic smile as he continued, "Isn't that right, Brother Ji? We did make an agreement, after all."
‎
Instead of immediately responding, Ji Wuye's cold eyes scanned the surrounding sea of faces with a calculating weighing gaze.
‎
It was only then that he noticed the unmistakable figure of an Elder observing the unfolding scene from a vantage point on the higher ground near the stairs leading into the central courtyard.
‎
Ji Wuye's sneer deepened minutely as his gaze flickered towards the watching Elder. ‘He's also watching this unfold...’ he muttered under his breath, so low as to be inaudible to those around him.
‎
Unlike many other sects, the prestigious Kunlun Sect was renowned throughout the entire jianghu. Their name and reputation preceded them far and wide.
‎
As such, during the periodic registration periods when they opened their doors to potential new disciples, numerous talented youths would flock from all corners in hopes of being accepted into the hallowed ranks.
‎
However, with the sect's facilities and resources being ultimately limited, they simply could not accept every applicant who showed promise.
‎
To maintain standards and cull the weaker chaff, there was a stringent system in place to expel any Outer Disciples who proved untalented or lacking the required aptitude over time.
‎
In addition to pruning their own rosters, Kunlun, much like the Wudang Sect, also had a certain prestigious reputation to uphold in the Jianghu.
‎
What if word spread that their Outer Disciples were being routinely defeated and humiliated by lowly wandering thugs or ruffians?
‎
Such demoralizing incidents would not only greatly tarnish Kunlun's prestigious name, but could also result in a marked decrease in the number of employment opportunities and mission requests extended to the sect from secular authorities and nobility across the lands.
‎
This, in turn, would translate into a steep decline in their primary source of income and operating funds.
‎
At its core, while internally a bastion of martial artists, a sect like Kunlun was also essentially a professional body of highly-skilled martial artist who earned their keep by rendering specialized protective services to those requiring their martial prowess.
‎
As long as there existed Unorthodox Sects pursuing nefarious ends or Evil Cults wreaking havoc on the populace, there would always be a constant stream of defensive and security missions for Righteous Sects like Kunlun to be contracted.
‎
It was an age-old dynamic, expressed in the simple Jianghu saying: The righteous protect, while the evil robs.
‎
Unlike the Outer Disciple ranks, however, which were culled ruthlessly, every new officially accepted Inner Disciple was essentially guaranteed a permanent place within the sect's ranks by virtue of having demonstrated sufficient skill and talent to potentially handle the various matters and missions the sect was routinely contracted for externally.
‎
It was the Outer Disciples who ultimately bore the brunt of winnowing - those unable to prove their worth were inevitably expelled to open up space and resources for the next crop of hopefuls.
‎
And the sole reason why the openly underwhelming Ji Wuye had been allowed to remain and avoid expulsion thus far despite being widely acknowledged as the weakest disciple in his year...
‎
Ji Wuye heaved an inward sigh as his thoughts turned towards the upcoming evaluation and testing period all Outer Disciples would undergo.
‎
‘This time, it's either submit to being a political pawn in some arranged marriage alliance... or I need to seriously explore other options outside the sect.’
‎
There were undoubtedly both pros and cons to possessing a naturally handsome visage, he knew from bitter experience. The fleetingly wry thought passed through his mind as his sharp eyes caught the subtle, meaningful looks the observing Elder was sending his way.
‎
Indeed, in order to avoid the expelling, that particular Elder had been surreptitiously shielding and protecting Ji Wuye's continued presence within Kunlun's ranks all this time behind the scenes...
‎
So at least, he should have shown some worth, even though he still intends to let the outcome remain the same as in the previous timeline.
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
‎‎‎[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

Yelena watched the doorway through which the young Ashfield scion had just left for a few moments more as she pondered over the meeting they’d just had.
Precocious indeed, she thought with a smile.
A smile that only grew as her gaze flitted over to her childhood friend’s… complicated expression.
It seemed young William’s decision had come as much a surprise to his instructor as it had come to Yelena herself.
“He said no,” Joana said after a few moments.
Yelena nodded slowly as she reclined into her friend’s surprisingly comfortable chair. Given what she knew of Griffith, the Queen had half expected the thing to be harder than mithril when she first sat down - but it was surprisingly plush.
“Not without good reason,” Yelena said as she shifted about.
“Good reason?” Joana scoffed. “You offered him your daughter’s hand.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You offered all of your daughter’s hands.”
Yelena rolled her eyes at her friend’s tone. “And if he’d accepted I would have considered it a bargain.”
A minor scandal and the loss of a number of future marriage alliances was ultimately nothing compared to the ability to raid Kraken nests. And that was ignoring that a hypothetical means to slay kraken in deep water would undoubtedly have other applications.
Applications that would be incredibly useful in the months to come.
Though, perhaps, if young William’s plans came to fruition that coming storm could be delayed by a few years.
“…Are things truly that desperate?” Joana asked quietly.
“They’re not great,” Yelena admitted, massaging the bridge of her nose. “The Blackstones… I knew they’d resist the reforms, but to threaten open rebellion?”
She’d not expected that. Not even in her wildest dreams. Lindholm’s only human ducal house had ever been wilful, and their antipathy towards the Orcs who dwelled in the Sunlands was well documented, but surely even they could see why Yelena was doing what she was.
Regardless of what her critics said, her decision to end the slave trade in Lindholm was most assuredly not the result of ‘useless sentiment’.
Far from it.
Oh certainly, Yelena had no love for the institution of slavery, for reasons both moral and financial, but that wasn’t why she’d created the abolitionist movement.
With each passing year, the Homeland’s view of Lindholm grew ever more covetous. More and more the Sun Empress and Desert Khan’s rhetoric centred less on their ongoing deadlock with each other and more on the idea of ‘recovering wayward territories’.
Certainly, that could have been a reference to Old Growth as much as Lindholm, but Yelena doubted it.
Lindholm might have scared the Solites and Lunites into retreating by choosing to engage them over deep water, but ultimately those victories were borne of a lack of conviction on the part of her foes.
Had the two disparate fleets been willing to risk the permanent loss of a small portion of their mithril cores in order to achieve victory and push towards the mainland, they may well have been able to flip the allegiances of a number of Lindholmian houses.
Oh, certainly, the high elves and dark elves of Lindholm might have prided themselves on maintaining the strictures of equality that defined the Old Empire – but with either Solite or Lunite airships hovering over their family castles, she couldn’t help but wonder if some might reconsider their stances on their fellow elves.
No, while an invasion of Lindholm would certainly be costly, it was entirely within the realm of reason.
An invasion of the Old Growth however?
There was a reason the Wood Elves – as they named themselves – had managed to remain independent of both the other two, much larger, nations despite sharing land borders with both of them.
Their strange magics might have been muted and weak beyond the borders of their home, but within their territory they were nigh invincible.
No, if there was to be any ‘reclamation’ of any territory belonging to the old Aelven Imperium, it was likely to come from Lindholm.
To that end, the kingdom could ill afford to keep feeding people and iron into the meatgrinder that was the Sunlands. Could ill afford to keep orcs that might otherwise be valuable mages laboring in the fields under the eyes of watchful taskmasters.
Lindholm needed every mage-knight it could get – regardless of the color of their skin or the shape of their ears.
Yet after year and years of negotiations and attempts to shift public opinion on the matter, the North still remained willfully ignorant of that truth.
“Surely they know that even if they win, any kind of division between us will just see the Homeland sweep over them?” Joana said.
Yelena shrugged. “I have a feeling that Duchess Blackstone’s victories over both the Lunites and Solites has left her confident of repeating the fact should it come to that.”
Foolhardy, in her eyes, but no one had ever accused the Blackstones of being meek. Nor being incapable of backing up their sometimes insane claims. What other House could lay claim to an ancestry that had once beaten back the Old Imperium at the height of its power?
Where other human nobles had been sworn into the Old Imperium on their knees with their battered armies scattered to the winds, the Blackstones managed to resist long and hard enough that the Imperial Legions had been forced to come to the negotiating table.
Ultimately, the Blackstones had still been absorbed into the Empire, but they’d done so on their terms with their heads unbowed.
…Though it was somewhat ironic that nearly a thousand years on, it was now those same humans in the position of the old Imperial Legion while it was the free orcs who now utilized the same strategies as the old Blackstone tribes – right down to the Wyvern riders.
“I could imagine that,” Joana muttered.
“Is it strange that I think she might pull it off?” Yelena said – though only because she was sure that no one beyond her friend and silent guards was listening.
“Part of me wants to argue that, but… do you think it’s a human thing?”
Yelena thought about the Blackstones and the young man who’d just turned down a chance to be king one day.
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
Personally she thought it was because humans didn’t live as long – and there was more of them. When your life could be measured in but a single century, perhaps you were a bit more inclined towards taking risks that might make an elf balk?
…Risks like trying to take your first year team up against a third year team in the name of trying to avoid a war.
Or at least delay it.
“I still can’t believe he said no to your offer,” Joana said, something… complicated in her friend’s expression.
Yelena grinned at the sight, though she wrestled down the urge to ask a number of probing questions of her normally straight laced friend, who seemed to have a childish crush on a young man nearly ten years her junior – and her student beside.
Normally she’d be all over a scandal that delicious.
Alas, right now was work time. “I can. He gave me his reasons and they were solid.”
Well, solid enough. If you squinted a bit. And tried to think ‘human’.
Rather than all-but guarantee a war by having the Crown break off his betrothal, he intended to do it himself.
Loudly and publicly.
And if he won – and that was a big if – he’d all but destroy any kind of excuse the Blackstones might have to declare war in response. Indeed, by being ‘shamed’ in such a public manner they’d need to spend a few years at least regathering lost support.
After all, who would want to follow a house into a civil war just after their heir was publicly humiliated by a team of cadets two years her junior?
Academy fights weren’t just schoolyard squabbles. They were civil conflicts writ small. A microcosm of the constant jostling and jockeying of Lindholm’s houses.
In other words, they held weight.
If Willaim could beat his fiancée, Yelena knew she’d owe him more than she could ever truly repay. A few more years of preparation would turn an almost guaranteed defeat into something much more even.
Especially if she could scoop up who knows how many mithril cores that were otherwise just littering the ocean. Ninety percent of them would be of limited use immediately, but a few years would give her time to construct at least a few more airship hulls to house the devices.
All that was required was for William to win.
“Solid,” Joana scoffed. “His plan is to go up against a group of third years with a team of firsties.”
Yelena tried to keep the intensity she was feeling out of her tone as she leaned forward. “You don’t think he can do it?”
Joana opened her mouth before hesitating. “I… normally I’d say no. Talented as they are, the gap in experience is just too wide.”
“But…”
The dark elf rolled her silver eyes behind her glasses. “But, with William’s newest invention…” The woman paused. “Son of a bitch.”
For just a moment Yelena was treated to the rare sight of her friend laughing. “I can’t believe I thought he ‘just wanted to use it in a schoolyard fight’,” the Instructor said.
“Well, he sort of is, in a way.” Yelena shrugged. “It just so happens to be a very important schoolyard fight.”
Joana laughed. “I suppose it is.”
“Still, do you think he can win?”
Joana straightened up. “I genuinely don’t know. With his new invention he might be able to catch her off guard. If he can skew the numbers in his favor at the start, they might have a chance.”
Yelena frowned. Not exactly the ringing endorsement she wanted to hear, but that was part of why she valued Joana’s friendship.
Always had really, even when the girl had first come to court at the age of ten as a potential playmate for Yelena’s daughters and told her that her dress made her look like some kind of tropical bird.
Something Yelena realized upon closer inspection was true.
Ever since, the Queen had made a point of checking in with the girl from time to time, if only for the occasional shot of unvarnished truth.
It was a strange ‘friendship’ from the outside looking in, but one that got less so as time went by and the age gap became less stark.
“Well, let’s hope the human capacity for the nigh impossible isn’t relegated entirely to the Blackstones,” Yelena muttered.
Because if it wasn’t, the boy would either have to marry one of Yelena’s daughters or die.
She could not afford the knowledge in his head to reach the Blackstones. To that end, he’d either accept her offer – rolling the dice on the onset of war and all that might come with it – or he’d suffer an accident.
As much as it pained the royal sovereign’s heart to see such a bright and enterprising soul be snuffed out before its time.
Being forced to make such decisions was simply the price of wearing the crown.
“Still,” Joana said, and Yelena was grateful for the distraction as she looked up. “Will you actually leave him alone if he pulls this off?”
Yelena scoffed.
“Of course not. If anything I’ll up my offer.” She shrugged. “I’ll give him you, myself and half my court if it means getting my hands on what’s in his head.”
It was actually a little amusing how Joana flushed at her words, even as she shook her head.
“Yes, that sounds a lot more like you.”
Yelena nodded. Damn right it did.
Though as she did, a thought occurred to her. “Hey Joana?”
“Yes?”
“In your reports to me, didn’t you mention the Ashfield boy having some kind of nickname.”
The dark elf pondered the words for a moment before stiffening. “Hmm, he does actually. A rather apt one considering. Apt enough that I’m wondering if whatever he used to kill Al’Hundra is related.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
Joana leaned back, her head craned upwards, as if seeking strength from above.
“Kraken Slayer.”
Yelena laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Of course it is.”
“You killed Al’Hundra.”
William was still reeling a little from the conversation he’d just had, so he was actually a little caught off guard by a finger being shoved into his face the moment he stepped back into his teams quarters.
Ah, he thought. I promised answers.
Though it seemed that in his absence his team had managed to figure out some of those answers without him.
Glancing past Olzenya’s outstretched arm, he saw Marline shaking her head – as if to vehemently deny she’d told them anything.
She needn’t have bothered, her geass precluded it as an option. Hell, even once everyone found out it would preclude it as an option.
Which was for the best for the moment because now he wasn’t so much trying to hide what he’d done as how he’d done it. Admittedly, Marline didn’t know anything beyond the broadest details, but she knew enough to know that it was some kind of enchantment combined with alchemy.
Now it was possible the forces working against him – or rather simply to profit off him – had already figured that out and he’d hear the alchemy lab exploded any moment now, but he’d sooner put it off for as long as he could.
To that end, he turned to Olzenya – though not before politely lowering her pointing arm.
Something that, to her credit, the high elf allowed – actually looking a little embarrassed by her outburst and thus rudeness.
“Honestly, I was expecting something like that to come from Bonnlyn, not you,” he said to the slightly flushed high elf.
As he glanced over toward where the dwarf was sitting, she shrugged. “I realize I may not be the most classically polite individual around, but I’ve been a merchant long enough to recognize when someone’s got a trade secret they want to keep close to their chests.”
If anything, Olzenya flushed harder, as while she might not have been familiar with trade secrets, she was most definitely familiar with the notion of house spells that needed to be kept secret.
“I also thought ambushing him at the door was a little rude,” Verity murmured from the back of the room.
Olzenya coughed, before backing up. “Of course, I apologize for that William.”
More bemused than anything else, especially as the elf curtsied, he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Or, understandable, I guess.”
“Good,” Ozlenya smiled, glad for his acceptance… before she shouted again. “Because you lied to us.”
“I did?”
“He didn’t,” Marline said. “He said he had something to bet against Tala.”
Indeed he had, something he’d kept hidden under a sheet. After all, he’d not wanted his big surprise to be spoiled by the rumors of his coming beating him to the cafeteria.
And they would.
Rumors in the academy somehow managed to move at light speed.
“He implied it was gold,” Olzenya shot back.
“And you said Tala wouldn’t go for it, but you came with us anyway,” Bonnlyn said.
Indeed, he had implied it was gold. Or ‘something valuable enough to catch her interest’.
“To comfort him after she shot him down,” Olzenya said. “Instead I damn near tripped over my own feet in front of everyone when he pulled an honest to goddess mithril core out of his ass.”
William was actually a little thrown off – and amused – by the sudden display of crassness from the noble girl.
“But he didn’t lie.” It was actually a little surprising – and heartwarming – to hear Verity speaking so forcefully.
And that Olzenya didn’t immediately snap at her for doing so. The team really had come a long way in just a few months.
Ah, the joys of shared suffering, William thought as he watched the girls bicker amongst themselves.
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have indeed been less than open about a few things,” he said, silencing all of them – except Marline who’d yet to speak in the first place. “With that said, I’ve never once lied to you about my end goal.”
“Breaking off your betrothal,” Marline said finally.
“Breaking off my betrothal without starting a war,” he said. “If it were that easy, the Queen would have done it for me just now.”
“You met the Queen?” Olzenya sounded a little faint.
“I did.”
Oh, how he did.
“Oh ancestors, please don’t tell me you hit on the queen!?” This time Marline sounded a little faint.
And he actually felt a little offended. “What!? Why would you think that.”
“You’re doing the same thing you do when we talk about Instructor Griffith,” Bonnlyn said with studiously neutral voice. “Or Instructor Morline. Or Instructor Flen. Or some of the guards.”
“Or that one cafeteria lady,” Verity chimed in, a little red in the face.
“Or the-”
“I do not!” He’d finally had enough of these aspersion on his character.
Across the room, a number of sighs rang out, even from the elves.
“At least now I knew why he never checked me out,” Bonnlyn said. “He’s got mommy issues. And I’m not old enough to tickle them.”
“Still, the Queen?” Olzenya hissed.
“I mean, have you seen her?” Marline muttered back. “I mean, I don’t agree with him… but I get it.”
“I didn’t ‘perv’ on the Queen.” Some part of him died on using such childish language. “We had a meeting about my plans and… what occurred with Al’Hundra. Needless to say, the fact that I’m here means she’s agreed to go ahead with them and I’m also to keep quiet about anything I may or may not have had to do with any Kraken going missing. Or their cores.”
He deliberately left out the royal marriage offer.
Still, with those words the room went silent. After all, if the Queen had told him to say nothing, he was expected to say nothing. Just because the North in general didn’t have much respect for royal authority didn’t mean the rest of the kingdom did.
Quite the opposite.
“Well, if the Queen has commanded you to remain silent, I suppose there’s nothing to be done,” Olzenya muttered. “Though I would like answers some day.”
“Hell, I’d like to know why you brought Marline in on your plans,” Bonnlyn said, glancing at the Dark Elf. “You know, and not the rest of us.”
There was no missing the hint of hurt there – which he understood.
“I can promise you it was purely a matter of convenient circumstance,” he said. “And I can promise you, I didn’t confide in Marline for free.”
All the girls glanced up as the dark elf nodded slowly. “He’s not lying – though I can’t say anymore. Literally. It’s a price I paid willingly, but one I doubt any of you would be interested in.”
Almost as one, he could see the lightbulbs turn on in everyone’s brain simultaneously – except for Verity, who took a few seconds.
‘Geass,’ thought none of them said it.
This time though, when the girls looked between him and Marline, there was a definite sense of wariness to it.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to say then,” Bonnyln said. “I guess we should…”
“…Go to bed,” Olzenya nodded warily.
William grinned. “Good idea. Big day tomorrow and all that.”
That was an understatement, and he could tell everyone was thinking it as they made their way over to their rooms.
Still, it was true all the same.
They’d need their rest if they wanted to stand a chance tomorrow.
Indeed, they’d need every advantage they could get.
To that end, William could only hope he’d stacked the deck in their favor enough to matter.
…It took him a long time to get to sleep.
When he did awake, in the early hours of the morning, it was to the sound of an explosion.
In the direction of the old alchemy labs if I’m not wrong, he thought with a grim smile.
It seemed someone had decided to investigate his storage room even sooner than he’d anticipated.
Annoying, but it hardly mattered at this point in time.
All that really mattered was going back to sleep.
He had a big day ahead of him, after all.
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I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

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mechanism, media, medical, medication, medicine, medium, meet, meeting, member, membership, memory, mental, mention, menu, mere, merely, mess, message, metal, meter, method, Mexican, middle, might, military, milk, million, mind, mine, minister, minor, minority, minute, miracle, mirror, miss, missile, mission, mistake, mix, mixture, mm-hmm, mode, model, moderate, modern, modest, mom, moment, money, monitor, month, mood, moon, moral, more, moreover, morning, mortgage, most, mostly, mother, motion, motivation, motor, mountain, mouse, mouth, move, movement, movie, Mr, Mrs, Ms, much, multiple, murder, muscle, museum, music, musical, musician, Muslim, must, mutual, my, myself, mystery, myth, naked, name, narrative, narrow, nation, national, native, natural, naturally, nature, near, nearby, nearly, necessarily, necessary, neck, need, negative, negotiate, negotiation, neighbor, neighborhood, neither, nerve, nervous, net, network, never, nevertheless, new, newly, news, newspaper, next, nice, night, nine, no, nobody, nod, noise, nomination, nominee, none, nonetheless, nor, normal, normally, north, northern, nose, not, note, nothing, notice, notion, novel, now, nowhere, nuclear, number, numerous, nurse, nut, object, objective, obligation, observation, observe, observer, obtain, obvious, obviously, occasion, occasionally, occupation, occupy, occur, ocean, odd, odds, of, off, offense, offensive, offer, office, officer, official, often, oh, oil, okay, old, Olympic, on, once, one, ongoing, onion, online, only, onto, open, opening, operate, operating, operation, operator, opinion, opponent, opportunity, oppose, opposed, opposite, opposition, option, or, orange, order, ordinary, organic, organization, organize, orientation, origin, original, originally, other, others, otherwise, ought, our, ours, ourselves, out, outcome, outside, oven, over, overall, overcome, overlook, owe, own, owner, pace, pack, package, page, pain, painful, paint, painter, painting, pair, pale, Palestinian, palm, pan, panel, panic, pant, paper, paragraph, parent, park, parking, part, participant, participate, participation, particle, particular, particularly, partly, partner, partnership, party, pass, passage, passenger, passion, past, patch, path, patient, pattern, pause, pay, payment, PC, peace, peak, peer, pen, penalty, people, pepper, per, perceive, percentage, perception, perfect, perfectly, perform, performance, perhaps, period, permanent, permission, permit, person, personal, personality, personally, personnel, perspective, persuade, pet, phase, phenomenon, philosophy, phone, photo, photographer, phrase, physical, physically, physician, piano, pick, picture, pie, piece, pile, pilot, pine, pink, pipe, pitch, place, plan, plane, planet, planning, plant, plastic, plate, platform, play, player, please, pleasure, plenty, plot, plus, PM, pocket, poem, poet, poetry, point, police, policy, political, politically, politician, politics, poll, pollution, pool, poor, pop, popular, population, porch, port, portion, portrait, portray, pose, position, positive, possess, possession, possibility, possible, possibly, post, pot, potato, potential, potentially, pound, pour, poverty, powder, power, powerful, practical, practice, prayer, preach, precisely, predict, prediction, prefer, preference, pregnancy, pregnant, preparation, prepare, prescription, presence, present, presentation, preserve, president, presidential, press, pressure, pretend, pretty, prevent, previous, previously, price, pride, priest, primarily, primary, prime, principal, principle, print, prior, priority, prison, prisoner, privacy, private, probably, problem, procedure, proceed, process, processing, processor, proclaim, produce, producer, product, production, profession, professional, professor, profile, profit, program, progress, progressive, project, prominent, promise, promote, prompt, proof, proper, properly, property, proportion, proposal, propose, prosecutor, prospect, protect, protection, protein, protest, proud, prove, provide, provider, province, provision, psychological, psychology, public, publication, publicity, publish, publisher, pull, punishment, purchase, pure, purpose, pursue, push, put, qualify, quality, quarter, quarterback, quarterly, queen, quest, question, quick, quickly, quiet, quietly, quit, quite, quote, race, racial, radiation, radical, radio, rail, rain, raise, range, rank, rapid, rapidly, rare, rarely, rate, rather, rating, ratio, raw, reach, react, reaction, reader, reading, ready, real, reality, realize, really, reason, reasonable, recall, receive, recent, recently, reception, recipe, recipient, recognition, recognize, recommend, recommendation, record, recording, recover, recovery, recruit, red, reduce, reduction, refer, reference, reflect, reflection, reform, refugee, refuse, regard, regarding, regardless, regime, region, regional, register, regular, regularly, regulate, regulation, regulator, reinforce, reject, relate, relation, relationship, relative, relatively, relax, release, relevant, relief, religion, religious, rely, remain, remaining, remarkable, remember, remind, remote, remove, repeat, repeatedly, replace, replacement, reply, report, reporter, represent, representation, representative, Republican, reputation, request, require, requirement, research, researcher, resemble, reservation, resident, residential, resign, resist, resistance, resolution, resolve, resort, resource, respect, respond, response, responsibility, responsible, rest, restaurant, restore, restriction, result, retain, retire, retirement, return, reveal, revenue, review, revolution, rhythm, rice, rich, rid, ride, rifle, right, ring, rise, risk, river, road, rock, role, roll, romantic, roof, room, root, rope, rose, rough, roughly, round, route, routine, row, rub, rubber, rude, ruin, rule, run, running, rural, rush, Russian, sacred, sad, safe, safety, sake, salad, salary, sale, sales, salt, same, sample, sanction, sand, satellite, satisfaction, satisfied, satisfy, sauce, save, saving, say, scale, scandal, scare, scatter, scenario, scene, schedule, scheme, scholar, scholarship, school, science, scientific, scientist, scope, score, scream, screen, script, sea, search, season, seat, second, secondary, secret, secretary, section, sector, secure, security, see, seed, seek, seem, segment, seize, select, selection, self, sell, Senate, senator, send, senior, sense, sensitive, sentence, separate, sequence, series, serious, seriously, servant, serve, service, session, set, setting, settle, settlement, seven, several, severe, sex, sexual, shade, shadow, shake, shall, shallow, shape, share, sharp, she, sheet, shelf, shell, shelter, shift, shine, ship, shirt, shock, shoe, shoot, shooting, shop, shopping, short, shortly, shot, should, shoulder, shout, show, shower, shrug, shut, shy, sibling, sick, side, sigh, sight, sign, signal, significant, significantly, silence, silent, silver, similar, similarly, simple, simply, sin, since, sing, singer, single, sink, sir, sister, sit, site, situation, six, size, ski, skill, skin, skirt, sky, slave, sleep, slice, slide, slight, slightly, slip, slow, slowly, small, smart, smell, smile, smoke, smooth, snap, snow, so, so-called, soccer, social, society, soft, software, soil, solar, soldier, sole, solid, solution, solve, some, somebody, somehow, someone, something, sometimes, somewhat, somewhere, son, song, soon, sophisticated, sorry, sort, soul, sound, soup, source, south, southern, Soviet, space, Spanish, speak, speaker, special, specialist, species, specific, specifically, specify, speech, speed, spend, spending, spin, spirit, spiritual, split, spoil, sponsor, sport, spot, spray, spread, spring, square, squeeze, stability, stable, staff, stage, stain, stair, stake, stand, standard, standing, star, stare, start, state, statement, station, statistical, status, stay, steady, steal, steel, steep, stem, step, stick, still, stimulate, stimulus, stir, stock, stomach, stone, stop, storage, store, storm, story, straight, strange, stranger, strategic, strategy, stream, street, strength, strengthen, stress, stretch, strike, string, strip, stroke, strong, strongly, structural, structure, struggle, student, studio, study, stuff, stupid, style, subject, submit, subsequent, substance, substantial, substitute, succeed, success, successful, successfully, such, sudden, suddenly, sue, suffer, sufficient, sugar, suggest, suggestion, suicide, suit, summer, summit, sun, super, supply, support, supporter, suppose, supposed, Supreme, sure, surely, surface, surgery, surprise, surprised, surprising, surprisingly, surround, survey, survival, survive, survivor, suspect, sustain, swear, sweep, sweet, swim, swing, switch, symbol, symptom, system, table, tactic, tail, take, tale, talent, talk, tall, tank, tap, tape, target, task, taste, tax, taxi, tea, teach, teacher, teaching, team, tear, technical, technique, technology, teen, teenager, telephone, telescope, television, tell, temperature, temporary, ten, tend, tendency, tennis, tension, tent, term, terms, terrible, territory, terror, terrorist, test, testimony, testing, text, than, thank, thanks, that, the, theater, their, them, theme, themselves, then, theory, therapy, there, therefore, these, they, thick, thin, thing, think, thinking, third, thirty, this, those, though, thought, thousand, threat, threaten, three, throat, through, throughout, throw, thus, ticket, tie, tight, time, tiny, tip, tire, tissue, title, to, tobacco, today, toe, together, toilet, token, tolerate, tomato, tomorrow, tone, tongue, tonight, too, tool, tooth, top, topic, toss, total, totally, touch, tough, tour, tourist, tournament, toward, towards, tower, town, toy, trace, track, trade, tradition, traditional, traffic, tragedy, trail, train, training, transfer, transform, transformation, transition, translate, translation, transmission, transmit, transport, transportation, travel, treat, treatment, treaty, tree, tremendous, trend, trial, tribe, trick, trip, troop, trouble, truck, true, truly, trust, truth, try, tube, tunnel, turn, TV, twelve, twenty, twice, twin, two, type, typical, typically, ugly, ultimate, ultimately, unable, uncle, undergo, understand, understanding, unfortunately, uniform, union, unique, unit, United, universal, universe, university, unknown, unless, unlike, until, unusual, up, upon, upper, urban, urge, us, use, used, useful, user, usual, usually, utility, utilize, vacation, valley, valuable, value, variable, variation, variety, various, vary, vast, vegetable, vehicle, venture, version, versus, very, vessel, veteran, via, victim, victory, video, view, viewer, village, violate, violation, violence, violent, virtually, virtue, virus, visibility, visible, vision, visit, visitor, visual, vital, voice, volume, voluntary, volunteer, vote, voter, voting, wage, wait, wake, walk, wall, wander, want, war, warm, warn, warning, wash, waste, watch, water, wave, way, we, weak, weakness, wealth, wealthy, weapon, wear, weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.