I am a 22 year old Female, I’m 1,6m tall and I weigh around 90kg.
Since February 2024, I have been feeling dizziness, more than usual. My vision will be blurry or I see spots when I wake up. Around two weeks ago I have started hearing sounds in my left ear. A loud sounds as though it’s the wind blowing through. It changes in volume if I turn my head to the left, bend down and if I press a certain point in my upper neck. Now I have pains around my neck and it causes these numbing headaches. I feel like because I listen to music a lot, it might have been the cause. The whooshing sound also corresponds with my heartbeat or if I get too anxious it gets worse.
I also panicked when I saw a semi dark line up my belly. I am also panicking that I might be like pregnant. I had unprotected sex around October and I did take an after pill the next morning. My periods have been a little regular but I can’t be sure because we are so poor that we don’t eat well and sometimes I will be eating bread for days. My last period was on the 21st of April and lasted for three days and the bleeding was very light. I have only felt nausea when eating too much or not eating and only when my period has started or about to start.
I have also been diagnosed with Major Depression Disorder two years back and I took antidepressants for a year till I let go. I have had three suicide attempts and was this admitted before getting diagnosed. I also had my jaw lock twice and was admitted to the hospital for it. For a year and a half now, my jaw would always pop like when I’m stretching. I was also given something else well to help with the mild anxiety I had. I had withdrawals end of 2022 and in 2023 I felt good.
I have also struggled with constipation and diarrhoea. When I was eighteen (last year of high school), I found out I had high blood pressure but it went down after I completed school and got into university.
I don’t sleep too well and I often will sleep a lot or for short periods of time. Being home does have me on the edge as I know how irritated my mom can get for not doing things around the house or sleeping in too much. I have a job that doesn’t pay too well as well as my mom. So we don’t have money, not even a ride to the hospital. We don’t eat well due to this and I am terrified to tell my mom all this because she will tell me it’s because of the phone and listening to music. Please help or advise I’m scared my right ear will follow.

The moment a lot of you have been waiting for is here!
A couple of notes before you read (or after because I would just jump into the list right away too)

1. Direct quotes from Ali herself are in italics.
2. I tried my best to keep everything in timeline order. Some people like The Come Back Kid I placed in the order where they reconnected/talked about on the pod. But I did my best to note this.
3. All this information came from the FMH podcast, the Patreon, the original FMH blog, TikTok and other podcast that feature FMH/Ali. I also crossed reference information with this sub. I got most of this done with the help of the Patreon and listening to 1.75x speed but I lost accessed to the Patreon because my subscription ended.
4. I'm open to edits! Things around the matchmaker era confused me and if anything is incorrect or if I'm missing someone, please let me know! I will note where corrections are made.
5. Some people don't have anything simply because only a name was said or I couldn't find any details about the person/date
6. And of course, please be respectful of all the sub rules!

Names on the original FMH blog

• Mr. Adorable aka The Coach
• Trouble
• Waffles
• Future Husband Brian (FHB)
• Cookie
• Peter Pan
• Ambiguous Goodbye Guy
• Bad Bitch Man

AOL chatroom Boyfriend
Mentioned on Tiktok and on the pod once
Myspace Boyfriend
Mentioned on Tiktok
Third Boyfriend
Met on eCrush.com in 2002 and this was mentioned on the Cracked Up podcast, The Dave Glaser Podcast and Tiktok
The Kiwi
Met on a 2 week Model UN type youth trip in high school when Ali was 15, never a boyfriend but she had a huge crush on him, he tried to kiss Ali and she literally ran away, didn’t talk the rest of the trip but exchanged numbers and screen names (Ali’s was FineGal13 or BeachJewel760), she made him a mixtape cd called “Ali’s really cool mix for The Kiwi” but never sent it and she still has it. In 2021, he DM’d her when she posted photos of her and her mom in France and invites her to visit him in London, she says she can’t but says they should catch up if he comes to NYC
Fourth Boyfriend
Met on OkCupid when you had to use it on the computer, this was mentioned on Tiktok
The Homecoming Date or Light Switch
First boyfriend? (she goes back and forth calling him her first bf or a situationship), a family friend, a month younger than Ali, dated in high school but went to different high schools, football player, made him ask her to her Homecoming dance over email (her words), Ali hid in the bathroom the whole Homecoming dance, 3-4 revisits of this situations as adults, saw him on Bumble a few years ago and texted him that he had a typo in his bio, “he very much wanted to be with me” and now he’s married with a kid. His mom is still “obsessed” with Ali and she listens to FMH
Random college guy
Freshman year of college, Ali doesn’t have a nickname for him/doesn’t remember his real name, met this guy through a friend, was texting him to invite him over to hot tub but her phone autocorrected to “how about some hot rubbing tonight?” but Ali didn’t noticed/didn’t correct it and he never replied, Ali had a house party and got really drunk and was all over him, he left the party early, she messaged him on MySpace 3-4 times asking why he left
The Resident
Matched on Match.com, first guy she dated in NYC after college, older than Ali, a doctor, lasted 3 months ”maybe”, he didn’t like Ali’s friends, got a card from him on her birthday and it said “Love, The Resident” and it took Ali back a little, Ali drinks black coffee because of him, he coordinated having her mom visit NYC for her birthday then he broke up with her a week later
The Ghost
Met at a bar when she was 25, turns out they matched on OkCupid and they already had a date scheduled next week, they dated for 6-8 weeks, had sleepovers, “The worst ghosting experience I’ve ever had”, he borrowed The Great Gatsby from Ali’s roommate, planned to make dinner together after a beach trip in August with her friends and never showed up, Ali is blowing up his phone and gets no reply, two weeks later she finally texts “are you alive? check yes or no” and he responds “Yes”, Ali then ask if he could return the book and gets no reply again, 5 months go by and she receives the book in the mail with the note: “Here’s the book back. Sorry. P.S. sorry about last summer. I was in a bad place. You’re a great person and your salmon is amazing”, since then she has ran into him twice on the streets and matched with him on Bumble
The Coach/Mr. Adorable
First serious boyfriend at 26/27 in 2013, matched on Match.com or met through work depending if you’re listening to the pod or reading her OG blog, clean-cut look, played volleyball, Ali invited him to a friend’s birthday party and they made out in the streets at 4am, on their second date he asked Ali if she was seeing any one and when Ali said no he ask her to be his girlfriend 3 days after their first date, dated for almost 1.5 years or almost 2 years depending on if you’re listening to the pod or the Patreon, first time saying “I love you” to a guy, “lovely guy“, never would posted Ali on his instagram until Ali said something, he “lived” with her for two weeks while he was in between apartments, tried blind folding/hair pulling during sex and she didn’t like it, by the end of their relationship Ali didn’t like sex and thought she wasn’t a very sexual person, after they broke up Ali drunk texted him at 2am and he picked her up and she spent the night and she took her things in the morning in a rolly suitcase, from her blog in 2015: “I just want to be careful I don’t end up with another Mr. Adorable situation, where I find myself dating my platonic best friend”, had drinks with him in 2016 from the blog: “Not in a romantic way (at least on my end)”, Ali still talks to him sometimes through casual instagram DMs, he’s currently (as of 2021) dating someone for 4+ years and Ali thinks they’re going to get engaged
Trouble
OG 2015 FMH blog, never mentioned on the pod, “I was immediately enamored with him”, met at a Beer Olympic party but he worked with one of Ali’s best friends (Ali was still dating The Coach at the time), lived in BK, tattoos and stubble, Ali’s best friend said he was a “fuck boy”, “he very much made me see that it was the right thing for me and The Coach to not be together”, from her blog in 2015: “he has this look in his eye like he’s constantly laughing at me – in a super sexy way”, he texted her saying he didn’t see anything romantically with her and she sent a gif of someone shrugging
Personal side note: Ali has mentioned she has cheated on someone but never disclosed who she cheated on or with. I feel like she cheated on Mr.A/The Coach with Trouble because of the timeline. Just a guess.
Waffles
Matched on Bumble, OG 2015 FMH blog, he asked Ali fuck/marry/kill breakfast foods, dated 2 months around summer time, on Fourth of July while watching fireworks he said how they had a great day and Ali replied with something along the lines with “yeah, it would be better if I could call you my boyfriend”, he said he wanted a relationship but just not with Ali and shortly afterwards they stopped seeing each other
The Buffalo
Lived in Buffalo NY, 6’5, Scorpio, met in 2015 at Adults National volleyball (Ali’s team won that year) where he was heckling her while she was playing, asks Ali’s mom for her number and Ali’s mom said “I guess you’re tall enough” and told him to ask her himself, he flew her out and she met his parents, dated over summer, exclusive but never boyfriend/girlfriend (but called him her LD boyfriend on TikTok), texted and talked on the phone a lot, Ali’s best friend’s favorite ex “they had really good banter”, in October he invited her to his cousins wedding and she invited him to her friends wedding, after Ali bought her ticket to his cousins wedding (with the promise he would buy her ticket to her friend’s wedding) he ghosted and stonewalled her, she “poured her heart out to him on voicemail” and he never replied, she asked him to pay her back for her ticket and he got mad that she “made this about money”, 2 years later he told Ali that he freaked out because he really liked her and saw a future with her but knew she would never move to Buffalo and it would “never work”, Ali said at the time she would have considered moving for him, Ali used to have him blocked on Facebook and told all her friends not to update her on info about him (unless she asked). He’s now married and goes to Disney with his wife (which Ali kind of scoffs at?), Ali said on TikTok that she dodged a bullet
Baby Bic
Met him at Adults National years ago, had a flirtationship with him in 2016 when he was 19 years old, ran into him at the Adults Nationals 2021, last texts she got from him were about getting his fake ID taken away at the bar and him visiting her in NYC but Ali didn’t want to buy him beer and drink at her apartment
The Chef
Matched on Tinder around 2016, he loved karaoke, “total shit”, asked Ali to be his girlfriend and to meet his mom after a month, off and on dating, broke up the first time because he was talking to his ex, lied and flew to Mexico to see his ex while dating Ali, that ex sent Ali a Snapchat of them in bed together on that Mexico trip, Ali broke up with him via text and called him a shitty boyfriend, he’s the reason Ali deleted her Snapchat because of drunk Snaps he would send post break up, FB messaged Ali 6 years later (while Roark was visiting/staying with Ali) and said sorry for being a shit head. Ali’s best friends hated him
The Dentist
Met on Halloween in the wild, Canadian, dated NYE 2016- May 2017 “nice guy, not my guy”, one of Ali’s best friend’s favorite ex “he adored you, “he was too sweet for me” and “he had no edge to him”, he painted Ali’s cat for her 30th birthday but she was annoyed it was just Rory and not both cats, The Chef texted Ali while on a date/sleeping at his house
ASV - Aspiring Sober Vegan
Met through a friend (her best guy friend’s college roommate) the day before she had to fly out to her dad’s memorial, a doctor, into meditation, remembered him “being cuter” when they went on a first date, felt “the spark”, had “omg this is awesome sex”, Ali described this relationship as a “slow burn” and “the most attracted she ever been to a partner” even thought she didn’t think he was that cute in the beginning, dated 2-3 months before he tried to ghost Ali but they talked and broke up, four months later they start casually dating/FWB because he’s moving but this turns into a ‘middle distance relationship’ and he moves to Philly, had a lot of communication issues but didn't have a lot of fights, wants to live in Ohio and give a % of his income to charity, Ali was close to saying ‘I love you’ but didn’t, he uninvited her to meet his extended family and they got in a fight, broke up with her a couple weeks before their 6 month anniversary at the park while on a picnic and told her that she’s still his favorite person, Ali used to think he was “the one that got away” and would frequently have dreams about him. From what Ali knows, he's sober but not vegan
The Scientist
2017 or 2018ish, from San Diego, went on one date, Ali ended up ghosting him due to the decline in her dad’s health, saw him on Hinge while she was in San Diego for 3 months in 2020, texted him and apologized for ghosting him, ended up going on 2-3 more dates, took a selfie in front of his house and sent it to him but acted like she didn’t know that was his house and made a TikTok about it, things ended up not working but she doesn’t make it clear on who ended it. She can now see she shouldn’t have been going on dates during this time when her dad was sick.
Good on Paper Divorced Dude
Met a couple of years ago (she told this story on TikTok in 2020) on Bumble
The Groomsman
Met at her friend Ashley’s wedding in Chicago Oct 2019, had a “two night stand” with him, texted/talked/FT’d for 3-4 months, divorced, never dated seriously/FWB, saw each other a couple time when he came to NYC, Ali stopped talking with him due to FMH and her trying to find a serious relationship, he starts dating someone, follows FMH on insta, slid into her DM in 2022 and then sent her soup while she was sick, turns out he’s single again, 2 months later Ali is heading to Chicago and texts him “Hello! Reminder that my arrival to your neck of the woods is imminent” and turns out he is now seeing someone and Ali doesn’t see him while in Chicago (at least she doesn’t mention it)
Unnicknamed person
He was her plus one at her best friend from college’s NYE wedding 2019/2020, met and hung out with Ali’s mom, posted photos of them together on her personal Insta story, “fully dating but weren’t official hehe” doesn’t have a nickname/never gave him a nickname? This could be The Latvian/the person she texted her friend in DC about saying “I think I’m on a date with my husband”

Starts FMH on January 2020 on Instagram/TikTok

The Traveler
He was browsing Bumble while Ali was in the bathroom during their first date, he was banned from Bumble and was using his grandma phone number. Ali turned down a second date
The Duke
Early FMH, went for long periods of time in between texts, 7-8 Zoom dates while Ali was in San Diego and he was in NY, Ali said you could see three of his ex’s on his instagram page (without scrolling), they finally went on one date and it was “meh” but they did kiss on their date
The Oyster
Matched on Bumble (he had one photo and no bio) two weeks before Valentines Day, Gemini, a lawyer, part of the 13 First Dates in 30 Days series (he was #13), dated Feb 2020-Aug 2020, love bomber, felt “the spark” and became official after 3 dates, best first date ever??? at the time, said “I love you” to Ali after two weeks, “For most of my relationship with The Oyster, he didn’t live in the city he had moved to Connecticut without telling me”, would fight all the time, opposite political views, Ali felt like a “fucking summer camp director” because she planned all their dates and he would get upset if Ali didn't have a plan, sought out a therapist (Megan) because of her relationship struggles because of him, went to Mass/church, he wanted a traditional marriage/life/wife/kids (at one point had Ali thinking she wanted that), didn’t want to live in NYC, didn’t support BLM, Cindy hated him
The Pilot
Went on 3 dates, texted a lot, didn’t hear back from him in four days and when she said she was looking to date someone who showed more consistency, he replied saying he met someone the day after their last date who seems to have more free time than Ali and he wants to pursue that but would like to be friends, Ali said on TikTok that this other women “bent her schedule to his schedule” and she was unwilling to do that. Mostly talked about him on TikTok
The Analyst
Matched on Bumble two years ago and went on one date, re matched in 2021 and he stood Ali up, she send him a text “getting stood up” script and he never replied. Only mentioned him on TikTok (?)

Ali and Roark start FMH: The Podcast February 2021

The Boomerang
First date on the pod? I couldn't find anything else about him
The Scuba Diver
The Music Man
One date, “he didn’t do anything wrong, he’s just not for me”, amped up small talk, complimented Ali a lot which made her feel awkward cause she wasn’t feeling it, he texted her and asked for a second date and Ali sent the no ghosting script
The Bet
Uses the phrase “ok bet”, 28 years old shoe designer, only went on one dinner date to a spot he picked, turns out its cash only and he didn’t bring cash, was not into him , not looking for the same thing
The Dinosaur
Nickname was previously The Hawaiian, first date at Dinosaur BBQ, stood in a parking spot to save for Ali, he asked for a kiss after their date and Ali declined saying maybe next time
The Rose
He sent her a rose on hinge, first date was an hour long walk in the park while drinking beer
The Comic
Matched on Hinge, older than Ali (Ali’s friends express how happy they were to hear that), had brunch on their first date (was the first part of a double header but the second guy canceled), listed as “moderate” politically on Hinge, good and easy convo, went back and forth twice over text and then never heard back from him, “technically not ghosting...”
The Camper
Met in the wild at a volleyball tournament in July, lives in Chicago, 27 years old, hung out the whole time, over heard Ali asking someone to get her a make out partner, gave Ali his number, drunkly ask him for a FT date in the future and he didn’t reply, Ali texts him again about a volleyball thing and he replied back with not a lot of enthusiasm, Ali is going to Chicago in Sept for a volleyball tournament and she’s already planning on playing 4-on-4 with her best friend vs. his roommate and maybe The Camper, he texts her saying he has to work on the date of the tournament and won’t be able to do the 4-on-4 game, “I feel like I got broken up with someone I never want to date in the first place”

Ali’s Matchmaker contract starts in August 2021 - 6 matches

The Schmoozer
Went on a dinner date, was chatting up the waitress in a kind of creepy way, was bragging about a lot of things and it turned Ali off and Ali texted him her no ghosting script
The Accountant
1st matchmaker match, 31 years old, lives in BK, his dad has also passed away, easy to talk to, on the third date she wasn’t sure if she saw a future with him and in her gut doesn’t feel like this would be a slow burn, Ali breaks things off with him, months (?) later he sent Ali a 5 min long voice memo and they said they were both down to see each other as friends. He later on dated and ghosted Erica
The Aussie
Matched on Hinge, in politics, from Australia but lived all over the place, asked Ali what she’s looking for on the first date and he said he’s “casually looking for something serious”, Ali accidentally walks up to a different person on their second date, Ali texts him saying she would love to see him before he leaves on a trip and she wasn’t happy that it took him till the next day to reply and he can’t see her before he leaves
The Goalie
Was supposed to be Ali’s 2nd match, he’s a paying client, Ali didn’t hear back from him for a while when she told him where she lived, he wrote to the matchmaker saying that she lived too far away even though it states where she lives in her matchmaker profile
The Journalist
2nd matchmaker match, ended things because she was dating/pursuing things with The Discoball and paused her matchmakers matches

The Threepeat
Matched multiple times on dating apps but this recent time with Hinge, Amazon seller, first date was a pizza lunch date (with bubbles aka champagne) and he gave her a single yellow carnation, talked a lot about her “side hustles” aka her food blog, coaching, FMH and the pod (Ali didn’t mentioned the name on FMH), had an awkward half kiss during the date and then gave her a peck when they said goodbye, he had no night stands by his bed?, spent the night but told public pod they had a movie night, different kissing styles, 6 dates, broke things off with Ali two days before her first date with The Rower WHILE Ali was on a Halloween girls trip
The Rower
Dated from Halloween 2021 till early Feb 2022, Pisces who is 6 days older than Ali, has an ex-fiancé (they dated for 8 years, engaged for two of them, she broke off the engagement with him 1.5 years ago once he started dating Ali), has a shared dog with this ex, slept together around Xmas on the fourth date and Ali got a UTI, first time having “omg this is awesome sex” since ASV, first person Ali slept next to wearing an eye mask "that's a big step for me", had him watch 90 Day Fiancé, on New Years Day told her that he sees “long term relationship potential” with her but doesn’t want to be exclusive after 5 dates, “we didn’t talk all week”, he said he wasn’t as ready as he though to date someone seriously and “I don’t know why I don’t want to be in a relationship with you” they broke up over the phone, Ali said he’s a good human and wants to date someone like him, 3.5 weeks later Ali drunk texted him at 3:00 am saying “its really hard not to talk to you” which Ali said was a lie, he replied back (few days? A week later?) while Ali was on another date and it made her cry a bit, she replied back saying “the door is closed but not locked” in regards if he wants to get back together. “Fin… for now”

2022

The Discoball
Matched on Hinge but didn’t go on a first date for two week, Gemini, used to be a singer in a band, moved from DC to NYC, went on 7 dates in 2022, had a dog w/ ex and ex got full custody once he moved, met one of his friends on the second date, slept with him on the second date “morning and night”, he tried to find the podcast without knowing the name, podcasted from his house in DC, he would send Ali photos of them together “all the time”, gave a virtual presentation from his hotel room, did Molly together in DC, had him watch 90 Day Fiancé, moved to BK (didn’t see each other for 2 months pre-move), had a sex-less sleepover (a milestone for Ali), he showed up for her on her dad’s death date (something that a person she’s dating has never done), used to listen to the pod but stopped before they stopped seeing each other, ghosted her after they had a talk about moving things forward to exclusive and Ali texted him something along the lines of “your silence is the answer” when she didn’t hear back from him for a week and he ghosted her. Ali said he sucks in #77 AUA
Lisbon
The Brit
M&M
The Come Back Kid
They went on 2-3 dates in Nov 2018 and reconnected in May 2022, "felt immediately comfortable", sat next to a very drunk lady on their second 1st date and was supportive but "didn't step on Ali's toes" when the drunk lady said something offensive to Ali, couldn’t remember if they slept together or not, knows about FMH, ghosted Ali
The Trainer
The Cold Brew
The Nomad
3rd matchmaker match, reminded Ali of The Oyster, wanted kids and didn’t want to live in NYC forever, Ali was upset at first because her matchmaker was supposed to screen for that but the matchmaker DID check and it wasn’t mentioned when she was screening The Nomad, no second date because those are dealbreakers to him
The Catcher
Matched on Bumble, “good not great” after their first date, ~April 2022, talked about sports a lot on their first date
The Gentleman
4th matchmaker match, knew about Ali’s FMH socials before their date, Ali didn’t like his texting style, awkward intro on their first date “like hugging a 2 x 4”, he runs a dating event company and actually email Ali to be a guest on the pod when FMH first started, awkward goodbye, didn’t discuss the actual first date on the main pod because she doesn’t want to give him a reason to reach out again
The Tennis Pro
Ali had a good time on their date, “He is an adult, he’s mature” BUT “I don’t think he was into it”
The Padre
Matched on Bumble, 3 dates, from San Diego, “energy mismatch”, doesn’t want to know or listen to FMH, no psychical connection/kiss, only a kiss on the cheek on their last date, “I haven’t spoken to him since Friday night [a week]”, she didn’t want to do what The Threepeat did to her (break up while on vacation/traveling), she said it might be a MOO

Roark leaves and Erica joins the pod Oct 31st 2022

Captain Kirk
5th matchmaker match, found him on Bumble before their in-person date, ghosted Ali AND the matchmaker???
6th matchmaker match
Last match and Ali states she will not talk about this date or anything about it
JFK Kirk?
Matched on Bumble, didn’t realize he’s located in SD, exchanged personal instagram info, not sure where things went or how things ended

Kirk #1
Met in the wild, make out a lot the night they met, “stealing kisses throughout the night”, exchanged numbers, planned a date (no specifics, just the day) but when Ali texted him day of he asked to reschedule (no specifics again), he replied back that he’s picking up a rental car, told him she’s looking for someone to respect her time and he never replied back

2023

The Falcon
First date of 2023, matched on The League, first nickname was “League Kirk”, hard to talk to, felt like Ali was always reaching for the next topic, likes to travel, “there wasn’t a vibe”, MOO
The Roommate
Used to be her friend’s roommate and have met before (Ali doesn’t remember but it was the day after that exclusive convo with The Rower), “totally cute”, reunited at their mutual friend’s engagement party January 2023, made out at the bar, comes back to her place and sleeps over (no sex), Ali questions why her friends never set them up and its because he was taking a break from dating, first date they made out a lot at the bar (again), “I really felt like we were already a couple”, “It didn’t feel like a first date”, mentions her FMH content has popped up on his FYP, tried texting him after their date and he wasn’t giving effort, she’s glad she didn’t sleep with him because “one night stands aren’t my thing”, MOO
The Belgian
Matched on Bumble, accidentally had their first date during a trivia night at a bar, easy to talk to
The Viking
Ali forgot they had a first date on the day of said date
Tinder Man
Matched on Tinder (duh) on Valentine’s Day, first Tinder date in three years, good convo on first date but got a pushy vibe from him at the second bar they went to, put his hand up her sweater and was kissing her in the bar, made Ali uncomfortable and she told him that after her asked her on a second date
The Historian
Matched on Bumble, good conversation on the first date with a wide range of topics like “urban planning and its impact on feminism”, he’s in grad school
The Georgian
Matched on Hinge, he asked if she was free on Friday and she said yes but didn’t hear back from him in two days and in that time she made plans for Friday, rescheduled for a Saturday afternoon date at a dive bar, ate on her way to her date “it would be next level rude to eat on the subway”, good first date, talked about places he wants to take her to
The Publicist
Matched on Tinder, lives in BK, Jewish, one year younger then Ali, good first date, invited him to the Chaotic Singles Party that night, came over to Ali's apartment (which Ali said was messy) before and he made her favorite cocktail for her, a couple of listeners met him at the CSP, goofy and silly convo mixed with deep and serious convos, second date was at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens and a tasting menu dinner, he made a Resy reservation and Ali got an email saying she was added to it ”fuck receiving gifts, THAT’S my love language”, he's into words like Ali, he sneezed and Ali said "God bless you" but then corrected herself and said "gesundheit" and he leaned over and kissed her and said he loves that she cares about her words, he met her friends on the third date ”It felt so easy. It felt so comfortable”, her friends took “sneaky” picture and videos of them together which Ali said she loves a sneaky pic, took all their date recap videos on his phone, cooked Ali steak on their fourth date, "it's very comfortable", had him watch 90 Day Fiancé, Ali met two of his friends and some of his teammates he plays a rec sport with, had sex the day they took a trip outside of the city, Erica met him before their trip to Greece and I said “he’s dorky in a good way”, WhatsApp video chatted while in Greece and told her “see you in two days!” at the end of their call, said she felt less anxious about him compared to other relationships while on vacation, sent him a birthday present while she was in Greece, felt an energy shift coming back from vacation and didn’t hear back from him 3 days after she came home, Ali requested a call to talk about this distances she was feeling, ”I did the 12 date rule and it didn’t work!”, she said the distance help her see that they’re not compatible, went on a total of 9 dates. Ali talks about the “break up” on episode 123
Mr. Chaotic
Matched on Tinder but he saw Ali at the Chaotic Singles Party and Cassidy the host is there mutual friend, went to a brewery and played games on their first date (Ali said this was her favorite first dates in episode 147 where they recapped 2023), works in entertainment industry, very high energy, knows about FMH and he said she's entertaining to watch, splits his time between NYC and some unknown city, texted while she was in Greece, ”The man gives good texts”
Random Matchmaker Match
Withdrew his match to Ali because he found her FMH socials. Talked about on #71 AUA
Gone with the Wind
Matchmaker match, said some gross things about women in volleyball outfits on their first date, Ali told her matchmaker about this, ”I would describe him as misogynistic overall”, Ali was glad he did say those weird things so early on so she didn’t waste her time, the matchmaker flagged his account. This was around June 2023
The Rock
Ali knows him from an activity that they used to be involved with in the city (she's very vague about what this is) from 8 years ago, he had a very serious/long term GF when they met, follows her personal Insta, has never talked about him because he’s never been a “prospect”, summer 2023 they met up to catch up and found out that he’s now recently single but he’s moving out of NYC for work, Ali texts Cindy saying she thinks this is a date, Cindy said to tell him that you really want to kiss him, he ends up telling Ali “I really want to kiss you”, made out at the bar, Ali invited him back to her apartment and they had sex the night before Ali ended things with The Publicist, “one night stand vibes” but she said she was down to do it again, Patreon only and talked about on #75 AUA
The Tourist
Matched on Hinge, just moved to Brooklynn, went to a brewery in BK for their first date, Ali showed up to the date dripping in sweat, allergic to cats, he sent Ali a ‘no ghosting’ text the next morning
The Stout
Matched on Bumble, ”we had really great banter right away”, laughed the whole time on their first date, talked about going on a second date during their first date
Speed Racer
Matched on Bumble, drinks first date, axe throwing second date, made out after their second date, MOO, randomly texted Ali ~6 months later because he said one of Ali’s date recap videos about him popped up on his FYP (Ali and Erica think this is a lie), he thought Ali wasn’t into him, he claims he was doing all the work with texting even though there was only a few messages since they exchanged numbers after their second date
Billy Joel
Recently sober, Ali said she felt like they had several inside jokes before they met in person, ate pizza on her way to their first date, second date was getting coffee and going to the museum, they cooked dinner together for their third date at Ali’s apartment and they watched 90 Day Fiancé (he didn’t like it), he Googled how to clean a red wine stain when it spilled on her countertop, he asked if she wanted to have sex and she turned it down, the next day/the day before a 7am flight Ali booty called him and they had sex, she was drunk and said the sex wasn’t good/they stopped mid way, helped Ali pack for her flight, Ali said he’s at a crossroad and he doesn’t seem like a long term fit, Erica found a condom on the ground while cat sitting, Ali said she didn’t regret hooking up with him but wishes she hadn’t done it, MOO
Sales Cycle
30 seconds in and Ali said he was very boring, only really talked about his job, stared at Ali’s boobs, “might be a MOO”, texted her ‘merry christmas’

2024

Pie Guy/Dr. Laundry
Matched on The League, 34 years old, requested a nickname change from Pie Guy to Dr. Laundry, he had to cancel their second date because he got hit by a car, went on two dates, Ali sent him a pic of his subway stop saying something along the lines of “the stop isn’t looking as cute today” and turns out someone he dated with in that photo, were supposed to go on a third date the night she got back from a bachelorette party but he didn't answer her text when she said she landed, the next day he asked her how her trip was not acknowledging her previous text at all, Ali expressed her disappointment and he replied that he was tired last night, she said she would've been understanding if he said something then ghosted her
Andddd I stopped listening to the podcast around the Dr. Pie Laundry Guy but have stayed up to date with everything via this sub.
I have a huge interest in dating culture, human behavior and data similar to Ali and this little project of mine was really interesting once I got the framework of this list. I started this list once I found this sub in December 2023 and started re listening to the Patreon while working out (and lost 10 lbs ayeee) and writing down information in my notes app. I did my best to keep this list unbiased and just give facts and information that was said.
My own thoughts after making this list is that I'm very sad for Ali. I didn't realize the extent of her dating history. I think about my own dating history or even my friends who are in their 30's and dating and Ali's dating lore runs so deep. Is Ali unlucky with love? Did she pass on someone that could have been great for her? How has she had so many dates with little success in a long term partner or even going beyond 6-8 dates? Or is Skyline the person she has been waiting for? What's the pattern with all this dates/men? So many questions.
I truly do hope Ali finds her guy because I believe theres someone for everyone. Until then, I'll be hopping into this sub (cause y'all are too funny and give the best advice) and waiting for Ali to find Mr. Height.
Enjoy and I look forward to everyone thoughts! I'll keep my eye out for any edits that need to be made.
Bonus quotes:
“Longest relationship was a little under a year and a half. Haven’t made it past 6 months with anyone else” - AUA #7 11/27/21
“I spent the first 10+ years of my dating life being sort of perennially single” -1. The Actual First One episode 2/21/21
"I think my parent's story is the reason why I think that I can romantically get back together with an ex and it'll work out" -The Dave Glaser Podcast 4/5/21
“Almost every relationship I’ve ever been in, with a couple of exceptions, started as a situationship.” -21. The Undefined One 7/11/21
“All of my boyfriends have been white” -Ali’s BFF Special on Patreon 4/23/22
“You definitely need an older guy” -Cindy on Ali’s BFF Special on Patreon 4/23/22
“I’ve been on the dating apps since high school. Dating websites at the time” -Ali’s BFF Special on Patreon 4/23/22
“Who would be the perfect man for Ali?”
“Clearly a combination of the The Dentist and [the early stages of] The Buffalo” -Cindy on Ali’s BFF Special on Patreon 4/23/22
“Do you consider The Rower or Disco ball to have been situationships?”
“No, I don't consider either The Rower or The Disco Ball to be situationships” -question asked on TikTok 11/9/22

I had acute insomnia caused by anxiety that lasted around 4 months. Getting 1-3 hours sleep a night. I had such a a difficult time at work during this. I felt like everyone could see the bags under my eyes, or that I was being quieter, or that I was going to the bathroom more (anxiety giving me stomach issues). I read a book called The Sleep Solution by Chris Winter and there was a page in the book that stuck out to me. I wrote it down and must have read it everyday for months during my lunch and break at work. Just thought I'd share it in case anyone else can get a moments relief from it. It goes like this:
"I hope reading this book has helped you both understand your sleep more fully and figure out solutions to your problems. Well not traditionally so, this entire book was written with an eye towards CBT-I. Despite my careful planning unfortunately some people reading this book are not going to find quick solutions to their insomnia. That's simply a fact. Doctors are human. Medical resources are limited, and some people, no matter what happens, feel like they cannot sleep from time to time. One incredibly powerful tool in your fight against sleep disturbances is acceptance. Accept your sleep for what it is, optimize what you can, and move on with your life.
I have seen thousands of patients with sleep issues and insomnia. In my experience, the disturbance is as debilitating as an individual chooses to make it. Let me explain what I mean. Visit any University teaching hospital at night. In fact for a real thrill, go back 20 years, before work our restrictions were put into place. Talk to a doctor who took calls during that time. I remember my residency being one virtually of no sleep when we were on call. That was the norm. Residents were going limited or no sleep every other night or every third night for months if not years. Take a look at the level of functioning of these people. It was really high. These individuals were operating, doing spinal taps, sticking lines into patient's necks, that kind of thing. Highly functional? Absolutely. Sleepy? God yes. But the bottom line was this. DESPITE EXTEME LEVELS OF SLEEP DEPRIVATION AND SLEEPINESS, THESE INDIVIDUALS FUNCTIONED SURPRISINGLY WELL.
Why is it that patients with insomnia, who often demonstrate virtually no discernible sleepiness, are so burdened by the disability of their sleep disturbance? Perhaps because it is a choice. If this book helps you improve your sleep, then I have been successful.
If it doesn't, kind Reader, I sincerely hope you make the choice that while you are working on your sleep's improvement, the Sleep difficulties will not ruin your life. Make the choice that you are going to feel good tomorrow regardless of your sleep tonight. And if tonight's sleep is not amazing, resolve that tomorrow's will be.
Don't make your sleep disturbance a defining characteristic in your life. The hours it takes you to fall asleep is not that big of a deal. Believe this. Free yourself. You are in a comfortable bed away from the stresses of the day, stretch out and relaxed. Is this a situation to fear and get upset about? Don't let this issue lead you down the dark path to hard insomnia."

my candidas albicas is one of the worst yeast infections. i stopped eating sugar. insert fungal cream once a week as prescribed. had sore swollen random lymph nodes. one behind my neck , one on my thigh, two on my arm. left earache. pain in left armpit. doctors don't have a clue. i believe it's from my candidas. i think i'm getting better cause pain and swelling has stopped. but i still have some burning on v a g. burning left arm has stopped. i get the feeling from going to gyno doc and MDs. they don't really know a lot about yeast. it affects everyone differently. you wouldn't believe how many gynos i went to in the beginning , that sent me home with nothing. one told me it was all in my head. that's not that uncommon to hear. my vag was a little swollen and he didn't see it. another doctor did. that's when things got rolling.

In hindsight, I should have known something was wrong with The Caeles Academy of Acting.
Maybe the fact that it doesn't exist to the outside world.
This place prided itself on famous alumni it didn't actually name, and a once in a lifetime opportunity to work with the best in the business.
It's what I wanted.
More than anything.
After enduring four years of high school with barely a semblance of a drama club (we met every month, and our teacher was an alcoholic), and countless failed auditions, I was ready to take my acting career seriously. I had one year.
According to my parents, I had one year to make a living from my passion.
If it didn't work out, I would be on the first plane back to Connecticut.
It's not like they didn't trust me. I think they were just scared I wouldn't be able to financially support myself. So, I got a job right out of high school and slipped a year. Drama schools are expensive, and college’s are cut-throat on who they take on. I found Caeles Academy by accident–or, I guess it found me?
After researching cheap drama classes, auditions, academy’s, literally anything to progress my career, an ad popped up.
Not exactly flashy.
Just a date, a time, and a promise that they only take the best. I ignored it, but throughout the week, I started getting more ads. Just the words, “IMPRESS US - - JOIN CAELES ACADEMY NOW.”
Followed by, “BE WITH THE BEST, AND BE THE BEST. JOIN THE S CLASS NOW.”
When I googled the academy, nothing came up.
It didn't exist, at least on Google.
So, I gave up, clicking on the ad, which sent me straight to an application form.
I filled in my details as more of a joke. But I wasn't expecting to get an email back. Again, it was a time, a date, and that exact same tagline: “Impress us.”
However, Caeles Academy was different from what I imagined.
I was expecting a university building, or at least some modern structure.
Judging from their marketing and ads, I figured they could at least afford decent premises. Though I was mistaken. When I stepped out of the Uber, I found myself staring at what looked like an abandoned office tower, a red-brick monolith in the middle of nowhere.
Which was crazy, because I swore a girl wearing a bikini had strode through the doors, with nothing but her phone, and a coffee tucked under her elbow.
According to the text sent from the academy, the auditioning rooms were on the third floor.
Tipping my head back, the checkerboard of broken windows didn't exactly instil confidence.
Neither did the clunky set of automatic doors that took a while to open.
It was a summer's day, and the heat was already baking through my dress, sweat sticky on the back of my neck.
I wanted to make a good impression, but the heels were a little over the top.
Though I had also seen a girl casually walk in wearing a two piece bikini.
“Well?”
Freddie’s voice made me jump. I forgot I was on the phone to him.
After being excited the whole car-ride, already high on five coffees, I was silent.
If I perceived the ‘academy’ from an objective standpoint, it definitely looked like the perfect place to be brutally murdered. But my own personal opinion was it was.. okay.
“What's it like?”
I pretended not to see a rat scuttling under an old candy wrapper.
“It's… fine.”
“Just fine?”
I could hear the smirk in my friend’s tone. He couldn't wait to tell me it was a scam, and had been reminding me all week I was essentially willingly selling myself to the black market. I was stubborn, so, fine sounded better than my initial first impression.
Which was to turn around, walk away, and completely block the place from my memory.
Unfortunately, at that moment, I valued my pride over my awareness.
“It's… okay.” I said, trying to find positives. I was staring at a looming grey building with shattered windows and a resident rat living near the door.
I had a hard time figuring out how the girl from earlier had just casually strode inside, barefoot too. I glanced down at the ground, immediately regretting it.
Like there weren't bits of chewing gum and grime stuck to the concrete.
“Huh.” Freddie said, his tone creeping into teasing territory. “You're really selling it.”
“It just looks like a building,” I muttered, my gaze glued to the rat, who looked a little too comfortable.
Maybe it was a pet.
I was getting progressively more infuriated the more I stared down this place. Judging from the decades old writing ingrained into the door, it used to be a dentist surgery. “What do you want me to say?” I wasn't even trying to hide the scorn from my voice. “It's a building that looks like an academy.”
“Can you send a picture?” Freddie asked, “Ooh, wait, I'll face-time you.”
“That's, uh, that’s not really necessary–”
I was cut off, suddenly, when a guy threw himself through the automatic doors, palms first. He took two stumbled steps forwards, one back.
Lifting his head, half lidded eyes found the sky, before he dropped to his knees, heaving pinkish liquid.
I could see him trying to hold it in, slamming his hands over his mouth, only for it to splurge through his fingers, showering the ground in greyish pink froth.
Like he'd downed a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
Inching towards him, I realized it was Pepto Bismol.
The stink made my own stomach churn.
“Missy?”
I found my voice. “Uh, can I call you back later?”
Before my friend could answer, I ended the call, slipping my phone in my pocket.
The guy was still heaving, coughing up globules of pink.
“Are you okay?”
The sound of my heels click-clacking on concrete made me cringe. The guy noticed, flinching away. Closer, and I could see his scraggly blonde hair.
He was handsome.
Without the bile spewing down his chin.
Early twenties, wearing a fitted white shirt now covered in streaks of bright pink. Part of me wanted to make a half-hearted joke, but getting even closer, so close I could smell his pepto-breath, I noticed he was trembling, his hands clenched into fists.
When I attempted to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, he twisted around, so fast my morning coffee slithered its way back up my throat.
His eyes were wide, almost feral, studying me like a wild animal.
I noticed the whites of his pupils were red, like he'd burst a blood vessel.
Theatre kids were intense, though I had never met THIS kind of intense.
“Are you… going in there?” The guy’s voice was a child-like whimper I wasn't expecting.
It looked like he was slowly regaining clarity, staring down at his filthy shirt, his hands stained bright pink.
I nodded, uncertainly, offering him my water. “Yeah. Did you audition?”
He shoved it away, slapping himself in the face. “I… I don't know.”
“You… don’t know?”
Suddenly, it was like something had contorted in his expression, a switch being pulled. I wasn't expecting him to twist around so fast. The guy slowly cocked his head, his lips breaking into a grin. His eyes, however, stayed the same.
“Of course I've auditioned.” He said, with a laugh.
“It was the best experience of my life!" His mouth formed an almost mocking frown.
“Unfortunately, I didn't make the cut. Which is a real shame. I'm sure Caeles would have benefited from my talents.”
What was weird, is that his mouth was moving, but he wasn't even looking at me, frenzied eyes caught in an oblivion I couldn't see.
When he did look at me, his expression crumpled all over again.
Pepto jumped to his feet, brushing himself down.
I couldn't take his over the top smile seriously, when his eyes were screaming, hollowed out caverns silently begging me to listen.
This guy was fucking crazy.
“Wait.” Pepto whispered, when I turned to walk away.
He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen before shoving it in my face.
I HAD SO MUCH FUN AT THE CAELES ACADEMY AUDITIONS :)
When I could only stare at him in confusion, Pepto’s gaze flicked to his phone, swiping bile from his lips.
His eyes went cartoon wide, like he couldn't believe what he himself was typing.
“That… that's not what I was trying to say!” He tried retyping it, but the guy was just writing strings of emoji hearts.
I didn't know what to say. I had dealt with rejection before, but I had never gone this far. Pepto was having a full on mental breakdown, his body shuddering, teeth chattering, blinking eyes and lips parting as if to speak, but choking on his words. When he started clawing out his hair, I took the opportunity to make a quick getaway.
Before I could make it to the doors, though, Pepto jumped in front of me, waving his phone directly in my face.
“Just…” he pointed at the screen. “It won't let me…” Growing frustrated with himself, he let out a wet sounding sob, clawing his fingers through his hair.
“Fuck, it won't let me…it won't let me type! It's not letting me type!”
By now, he had tufts of hair stuck between his fingernails. I don't know why his first reaction was to immediately try ripping his hair out.
A quick glance at my own phone reminded me of my audition that was in five minutes.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with what I was pretty sure was delusion, denial, or a mixture of both.
I was considering pushing past him, when Pepto’s phone screen hit me in the face. Again.
This time, though, there was coherent writing.
“FIND LUKE.”
“Luke?” I said. “Who's that?”
“Luke!” The guy was bouncing on the heels of his feet. “He's my…” Pepto drifted off, his eyes going vacant, as if I could physically see his brain being plucked from his skull. Pepto dropped his phone, and I grabbed it before it could hit the ground. His hands went to his curls, clawing, scratching, until he was drawing blood across his forehead.
“I… I don't know! I can't… I can't remember. Luke. He was my… he was my… I don't know, I can't… I can't–”
I stumbled back when he let out a shriek, scratching at his face.
“Fuck!” He whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Pepto grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, his fingers digging into my skin.
“I don't know who he is.” He gritted out, pink froth pooling from his lips.
Pepto broke out into a sob. “I don't… I don't know who he is, but you can find him, right? You can… you can find…”
Again, he trailed off mid sentence, his hands going limp around my shoulders.
I managed to side step him, swallowing a cry.
“Yeah, I'll, um, I'll find him for you.”
Pepto backed away, suddenly, stumbling over himself.
His gaze found mine, vacant, like a baby deer.
“Find who?”
I didn't wait around to answer him, pushing through the doors and stepping inside.
The interior was unsurprisingly even worse than the exterior.
The elevator was broken, so I had to run up three flights of stairs.
I expected at least an attempt at an academy, even in the dregs of an old dentist surgery.
What I got, though, was a never ending staircase, obnoxious photos of teeth greeting me on every level.
The third floor was… less clinical.
I strode directly into a waiting room filled with college aged students, either sitting on plastic chairs, or standing around, rehearsing.
The room itself was cosy enough, a navy carpet and a TV playing a random Twitch stream.
Situated in the middle was a desk with a bored looking woman behind it.
Her smile was fake. I could understand her pain. She was stuck in a room with theatre kids all day.
“Sign here.” She prodded a sheet of paper.
I was convinced her voice was AI.
While I was scribbling my details, I took a moment to notice the stark difference from the kids entering the room, to the ones leaving. The kids entering wore wide, confident smiles and were social butterflies, chatting amongst themselves.
The kids leaving reminded me of pod people.
They left the room silent, in an orderly line with dazed smiles on their faces, like they weren't sure where they were.
I watched one guy walk directly into the wall instead of taking a left toward the exit, and a girl straight up just toppled down the stairs.
The kids waiting with me named them rejects.
I wasn't convinced until I glimpsed an empty bottle of Pepto Bismol sitting on the floor by the window.
Thinking back to Pepto, that made a lot of sense.
I was still dazedly staring at the bottle, when my name was called.
Jumping to my feet, I did my best to calm myself down, straightening my ponytail. Pepto had really screwed with my head. I could barely even remember the lines I had been rehearsing for a week straight.
I was muttering my lines to myself, when I stepped through the door.
The door that apparently turned you into a pod-person on the way out.
For a moment, I thought I was blinded by stage lights.
It was so bright.
The glow bathing me was clinical, stabbing into my eyes.
When I blinked, I found myself standing in front of three shadows sitting in front of me.
Their chairs were made of leather, far different from the plastic ones in the waiting room.
So, they did have filthy cash.
I was looking at one man, and two women.
They were… average?
I expected them to be more glitzier, but they were just regular people.
The man was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, a stiff looking brunette wearing a suit and tie, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes were narrowed slightly, lips curved into the start of a smile. Like I amused him.
The women were polar opposites.
One of them was my Mom’s age, grey hair and floral clothing. She took a sip of water, her gaze burning into me.
Google told me not to be intimidated by their stares, but it was impossible.
These people were carving holes into my skull.
Sitting next to her, a younger girl who seemed to own the color red.
Her hair simmered, blood red, while she herself was sculpted in a dress, perfect cherry lips spread in a wide smile.
With a little too many teeth.
They studied my face like I was already theirs, drinking in every inch of me.
Freddie said I had to find a weakness in their expression and use it to my advantage.
If I could find the prick of a genuine smile, I could become their favorite.
“Hi!” I said. My caffeine intake was starting to take effect.
I didn't realize I was bouncing up and down until I caught myself.
Red’s smile stretched wider.
Maybe they liked my eagerness.
“My name is Misa.” I introduced myself, staying casual, keeping my arms by my sides. “I'm twenty one years old–”
I choked on my next words when Red spoke up. “Impress us, Misa,” Her voice was a smooth, almost seductive rasp, and I felt myself fall into it, enveloped in sugar that was too sweet, and yet I couldn't stop myself. She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze challenging me to do something different. To make her want me.
“Show us something we have never seen before.” She stood up, cat-like eyes narrowing, “Show us how desperate you are to join this prestigious class.”
I nodded, and began.
I had planned a whole monologue, practised it over and over again, forcing Freddie to judge me with a none biassed opinion.
I was three lines in, when Red started laughing.
“Stop.”
I did, my cheeks heating up.
She clapped loudly. Obnoxiously.
“Sweetie, oh, stop, you're adorable!”
She leaned forward, like I was something that entertained her, jostling her heeled foot. “We don't take amateurs. I think you need to go back to school.”
This woman was definitely a psychopath.
Empty eyes sparkling with a gleam that definitely enjoyed humiliating candidates, and a twisted smile that was a little too wide. Red made me want to crawl into the ground.
She made me want to turn around, leave the room, and quit my dream. I was aware of my own fury, my embarrassment turning my cheeks crimson. I matched her.
Maybe that's what she wanted all along. To wear the color of her victims.
Taking a shaky step back, I started to nod, started to agree, my mouth choking with the words, “You're right. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
I had never received proper constructive criticism from a professional standpoint.
Which meant I really did suck.
But I didn't move. I didn't want to move, and Red continued laughing, her companions sitting in silence.
The man rolled his eyes with a loud, exaggerated sigh.
Like I was boring.
The older woman pulled out her phone.
“Misa, you are…cute.” Red said. “But you're not quite what we are looking for.”
I wasn't sure I could admit it right there, but she made me feel things.
Like I was ignited.
Like I was going to prove this crazy bitch wrong.
I found my voice, strong and confident, despite my hammering heart.
“Give me another chance.”
Red’s lips curled. “So cute, Misa. Oh, sugar bear, It would be better if you left the room. Unless you want to embarrass yourself further! In that case, be my guest!”
She turned her attention to her nails, nudging the guy.
“Dinner?” She hummed. “I'm thinking of Italian. You are quite the wine connoisseur, Nicholas. Why don't you introduce me to your favorite?”
“Hey.” I blurted.
They ignored me, getting a little too close.
I don't know why I continued, reading my lines, screaming them, so I would be heard. I read them perfectly, and tweaked the genre from drama to romance, and then to horror. I became three different characters, a high school girl struggling with cancer, a final girl, and a woman going through a divorce.
I was fucking perfect.
But they weren't listening to me, caught up in their own conversation.
I tried again.
And again.
And again.
By now, I was on my knees, my fingers ripping into my hair. I was seeing red.
“We want originality, Misa,” Red said, sucking her teeth.
Her voice crawling into my skull was enough.
She still wanted me.
The thought polluted the back of my mind, taking a strangling hold. She still wanted me. When I lifted my head, Red wasn't looking at me, her gaze on the table grains. “Show us something new.”
I got to my feet, panting, my breath in my throat.
I became a screaming, strangled mess, a woman who lost her baby.
Red’s interest was piqued. Only slightly. Through my fraying vision, she slowly turned in her chair. “Again.” She clapped her hands, “Come on, Misa! We want new! We want never been fucking done before! Are you deaf?”
I couldn't stop the sobs escaping my mouth.
They lost interest again, right in the middle of my reading.
“Why can't you look at me?” I found myself spluttering.
When the man pulled out a bottle of water, I yanked off my heel and lobbed it at his face.
“Look at me!”
He did. Slowly. His gaze found me, for perhaps the first time.
Not as an amateur, but as a potential candidate.
Around the twentieth attempt, I started to laugh. Never been done before? I could feel my fingernails already in my scalp, clawing chunks of my hair out.
Reality contorted, and I felt myself drop to my knees. I was still laughing, spluttering, sobbing. I could still hear her in my head. Never Been Done Before. I started slowly, dragging my fingernails down my face until I felt the harsh sting.
“Again.” Red said, and her voice led me to stare down at my hands, at pinkish flesh glued to my bones, fleshy mounds that I had never realized was so thin.
So easy to tear. I didn't even feel it.
Only the sudden, unbridled euphoria of biting into my own skin, locking in my jaw, and ripping into myself.
When I tore it from the bone, warmth filled my mouth, and I was choking, guzzling down my own flesh, mulling it in my mouth and swallowing.
I can't remember how I got so deep, and why I didn't stop.
Why I didn't fucking scream.
But it didn't matter.
Red was standing up. She was clapping, her lips spread into a grin.
Her applause filled me with stars.
So, I ripped my hair from my scalp, a hysterical giggle escaping my lips.
She loved me.
I could see her jumping up and down, clapping.
Louder, and louder.
Her applause controlled me, twisting and contorting me into hers.
I didn't even think. I wanted to impress her, and doing this was doing just that.
My fingers were delving into my right eye socket, clawing my eye out. It didn't even hurt. Not with her thundering applause that was deafening, beautiful, an orchestra in my ears.
When I was semi conscious, my eye was crushed in my hand, but my vision was still mine, almost too clear. I could see streaks of red blurred between my lashes. My hair was caught between my fingers. But I wanted to do more.
When I stumbled to my feet, Red’s smile was so beautiful.
The man, however, looked horrified.
“Someone grab one of the successes,” Red’s voice was a shrill giggle, “Bring him in!” she clapped her hands together, and I spat out a fleshy thing. “I want to see them together! I want to see the future in front of us!”
Footsteps coming towards me in slow, shuddery thumps. I looked up, and a shadow was dancing around me.
When I slowly rose to my feet, I half realized I’d bitten my toe off. The shadow had a face, a boy who was younger than me. I think he used to have hair, but half of it was gone, half of it was still stuck between his fists. When I found his eyes, I found twin caverns instead.
Eyes that were still physically there, and yet there was no life.
No spark.
I was staring at a dead body, a flesh puppet who had lost his strings.
When he grabbed my hands, pulling me into a waltz, I caught a smear of scarlet trickling down the back of his neck. When I followed it upwards, his head was covered, slick, dripping with red.
Like me, he matched her too.
And he was beautiful, she told me, her push, her thunderous applause, guiding me into a waltz.
His feet moved, perfecting every step, and my foggy mind couldn't understand why. He matched my every move, the two of us floating across the floor.
My feet knew the steps before my mind.
How could he dance? I thought, dizzily.
How could he dance, when smeared scarlet followed his twisting, and turning and pirouetting feet?
Because underneath that swimming clinical light, the back of the boy’s head had been carved away, a perfectly sculpted cavern where his brain should have been. I could see the severed stem, where it had cleanly plucked out.
His fingers cradled in mine were wet. Swimming in blood.
His own blood.
Spinning round and around, I imagined myself as a princess.
I saw an 18th century ballroom lit up around us. Glittering smiles and glasses of champagne, long, flowing ball gowns.
I blinked, and my head was tipped back, gliding in blood once again.
When he pulled me to his chest, I stumbled, and a name came to light.
Luke.
I had found him.
Our finishing spin left me hard to breathe.
My body was broken, ripped into, and yet somehow not.
By the time we were finished, the two of us bowing, my mind was full of fog.
Cotton candy.
“Congratulations!” Red’s smile was inhuman, stretching right off of her face.
“You're in the S class!”
I was led through a door that wasn't the one I entered from. Inside the room were a dozen or so students, kneeling on the floor. They were missing parts of themselves, like unfinished puzzle pieces.
I dropped onto my knees next to a girl without a head. I could only see her torso, but I knew she was smiling.
Looming over us, was the goddess Athena drenched in blood that was still wet.
Dripping, pooling from every crevice of her dress.
Looking closer, this statue was moving.
Something sickly crept into my mouth.
Her right eye was human, a twitching eyeball sandwiched inside the stone.
It didn't match her. It was wrong, horrifying, like a painting, a real human eye struggling to focus on us.
And then, my own gaze found the statues head, where a real human brain had been forced inside perfect white, pink, greyish mush dripping down the sculpted, slender neck.
I could see where it had been pushed, pulverised through the stone.
The statue’s singular eye found me.
Its dancing pupil jumped up and down.
Before it blinked.
Next to me, Luke was on his knees, as if in prayer.
I can't remember leaving the room.
I just remember running.
Back down the stairs, stumbling, staggering over myself.
I was screaming by the time I reached the doors.
They opened, as usual.
But I couldn't get through. I tried, but I was slamming into something I couldn't see.
Pepto was still waiting outside. The sky was dark.
When he saw me, he stumbled over, slamming his hands into the glass.
I couldn't even understand myself. I was just fucking screaming.
Pepto held up his phone.
“DID YOU FIND HIM?”
I shook my head.
“No.” I lied.
I can't tell him the truth. I don't even know what it is.
“I can't get out!”
Pepto nodded slowly, typing something and showing me his phone.
I'm getting you both out of there. I think I know how I can get inside.
It's been 3 days, and Pepto is yet to return.
I’ve tried multiple times to cry out for the H word. But it won't let me type it.
Please H me. I need to get out of this place.
Fuck. Get me OUT OF HERE.
Classes start tomorrow.

I woke up with a cough of blood and pain. I felt something metal with my hands as I looked down. A long stint of rebar poked out of my ribcage and through my chest plate, covered in a mix of my blood and the bile of a bug.
I reached down and grabbed my Senator, feeling its trusty weight in my hands. I haphazardly tried to place the barrel against the portion of rebar sticking out of my back. This had better work, I thought. I pulled the trigger once and with a loud Crack I felt the vibration from the shot in my stomach. I tried to choke down vomit and pulled the trigger twice more Crack, Crack. With the third shot the rebar gave way and I rolled to my side and collapsed on the ground. Agony shot through my body as I hit the dirt.
I realized then, Hmmph, they left me. During Extraction one of the other divers called in a 500kg as we were about to board Pelican 1. She had thrown it over one of those damned chargers in an effort to kill one last bug but... it started charging us. I was the last one in line and just as I was about to board... i was thrown 200 feet away from extraction site. I don't blame them. I'd have left me too. We had successfully evacuated a number of scientists and other military personnel, but we'd lost the planet. No hard feelings I guess.
I tried to pull my mind away from those thoughts and just focused on one. Survive. I pulled myself to my knees and looked at the rebar again. Cant park there bud, I thought tryna cheer myself up. I had dropped my senator when I fell and ended up with two free hands. I reached down and with the assistance of my servo-assited armor prepared to wrench the rebar from my chest. Alright, count of three, I thought. One my heartrate quickened. Two I adjusted my grip ever so slightly. Three I ripped the metal rod out and felt a hot stinging pain shoot through my body. I quickly grabbed a stim and applied it.
I winced as the stim numbed my broken ribs and began rapidly working to heal them and my open chest wound. After a couple seconds, I could stand.
I took quick stock of my inventory. My Senator with 23 rounds left, two ration packs, a canteen of water, 1 stim, a knife, and a bag of oatmeal. Oatmeal? Seriously? I'd rather have ammo but... beggars can't be choosers.
I looked around me. Snow and beaten down rubble surrounded me. This was some kind of research station, I think. Didn't bother grabbing the name. Cold as hell and nothing really around to get my bearings. Great. I thought. Im gonna die inside a freezer. I started looking through the rubble for anything useful. I found a corpse of one of the scientists that hadn't made it to evac. I grabbed the ID card off his jacket. Figured It'd get me inside a building if there were any left standing. I crawled out of the rubble and onto the snowy tundra.
The sun had set and with it most of the light I would've been able to utilize. I scanned the horizon for a blinking light. Blinking like meant beacon. Beacon meant possible radio, maybe some ammo. I clocked one to the southwest and began walking that direction senator drawn.
I spotted a few distant bug patrols illuminated by moonlight but they had no interest in me. I kept my head down and kept moving towards the light. Details started to take shape and I could see this was a research station. Perfect I thought.
I reached the door and used the key card. There was a Beep and the red light flashed green. The door cracked open before jamming. Oh no you dont, I thought and with one hand yanked the door open. I closed it behind me with the same hand to keep the wildlife disinterested.
Inside was dark and damp. I had lost the seal integrity on my suit so there was barely any oxygen regulation. Didn't need it on this planet but still, it's a bitch to fix. I turned my flashlight on and started scanning the room for a light switch. I found one but wouldn't ya know it... dead. At least the beacon had power. I walked over to the radio and pulled off my helmet. I wedged the flashlight in my neck and leaned my head to the side. I started flipping switches and turning dials to see if there was a response. Nothing. Id have to find the master terminal. I grabbed the flashlight and donned my helmet again. I began scanning the room again before I heard it. A little shuffle behind me. I turned quickly and drew my senator raising it at the source of the sound.
It was a small child. At least... thats what it appeared to be. At first glance I could see bindings on its legs and arms. A hospital gown with little ducklings on it and a teddy bear tucked under its arm. I lowered my senator as it spoke.
"Dr. Mehon told me to wait here. He said hed be right back."
Dr. Mehon was probably dead I thought. I knelt down and put my hand on the child's shoulder. "Whats your name kid?"
"3". I felt a rage build up. I swallowed it quickly.
"Well 3, what uh... why.. why do you have bin.." I stopped myself. Whatever those scientists were doing here...
3 looked up at me and I noticed it. A cat like set of eyes. Other little details started to click as well. Four fingers on each hand, slightly pointed ears, a discoloration of skin and a rigid scale-like spine on the shoulder.
"The radio doesnt work mister." 3 seemed to have understood their situation. "Dr Mehon destroyed it before he left."
I realized then that it was unlikely either of us would make it off this planet alive.
Part 2 coming soon? Depending on how this one does.

You guys know what an alpine coaster is? They are like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They are also called summer toboggans or mountain coasters and I think there’s some long German compound word they are called in parts of Europe. They are like a roller coaster, but with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in, and instead of being built with like a scaffolding or a framework the tracks are just on the ground, using the elevation of the mountain. Basically it’s a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.
They are pretty fun. Or at least I used to think so. They are more “personal” than roller coasters and although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can’t do corkscrews or loops or anything like that the openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed. You’re just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It’s like the difference between how fast a go-cart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know the sports car goes faster but the open, simpleness of a go-cart feels a different kind of fast. There’s plenty of POV Youtube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are.
I used to love alpine coasters. Used to.
My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smokey Mountains for vacations when I was a kid and they are common in that area and I’d always rode them every chance I got.
But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren’t exactly common once you get away from the mountains.
Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004. I was in my final year at college and I was driving back to campus in Tennessee after a short visit to my folks in North Carolina. It was only like a 4 or 5 hour drive via the most efficient route and I had no need to be back at campus early so instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains. The scenery was nicer and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the twisty mountain roads.
Just after lunchtime happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the Smoky Mountains near the Carolina/Tennessee border. Nothing fancy, a gas station/truck stop, a diner, a couple of places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs, maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had another couple of hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour.
I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and… well I’ll be damned. There it was. “The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster.” Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building, a mockup of a red barn, where a single railed track that led up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand painted standees of cartoon character bears dressed in stereotypical “Hillbilly” getup stood around, some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a helluva thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an Alpine Coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road.
I parked my car in a corner of the truck stop's parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smart phones when people didn’t keep their phones with them 24/7 and I didn’t want my old Nokia brick phone to fall out during the ride, locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine Coaster building.
Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half hearted attempt at a whimsical faux-Americana kitsch was far less effective when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run down wooden building. Hell calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The wood boards creaked under my footsteps.
The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was a ticket booth. A door on the side had both a single occupancy bathroom with an out of order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it.
Still the place looked alive. Ahead of me a bored looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the ticket booth. Up in the mountains the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind.10 minutes and 15 dollars later I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled sat atop a simple aluminum rail.
I couldn’t help but grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains, making click-clack ratcheting sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of pine.Higher and higher in the mountains we went. I don’t know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact but when I remember these moments, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don’t know if I felt it at the time or not or it’s just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back at.
But either way mostly I was enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride.
It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles, rolling hills and mountains. I the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain and I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers.The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. Trees zoomed past. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself.Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the G-forces pulling me every which way.
There was no one exact single moment where things started to go “wrong.” The ride kept going. And going. At this point the first creeping thought entered my head.
The ride… was still going.
It just started to hit me… this ride was going on for a really long time. I had taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day and they topped out at about 5 minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.
I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was at in relation to anything.
I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay so I had found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time I wasn’t 100% wasn't sure they didn’t exist or anything like that. I was a little… unnerved but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet.
I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it, and halfway succeeded, when out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside. I gripped the sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain.
I was pushed back against the seat by the force of the drop. Jesus I didn’t remember them being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where had this elevation drop come from I wondered? I was still in the foothills and I didn’t remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride’s route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area I didn’t know. . For the first time I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I would want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on.
With a whiplash motion I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on flat ground again, but by this point I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash and I felt sour in my throat and for a moment the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time the ride felt unsafe. Alpine Coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full on roller coasters but this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I had ever been on.
I looked around. I mean I wasn’t that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something; the highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the Alpine Coaster office, something, anything. But nothing. Just trees.
I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again. Okay this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain.
Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end, for one brief, terrible moment I thought the track just ended but I was wrong. Almost without warning the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again.
By this point the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder and I could no longer tell myself it was wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I had gotten diverted onto some kind of maintenance track or, hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I had wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track, it was still just the simple, aluminum rail of an alpine coaster and there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again after having the thought I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There’s no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over?
The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ride at that point but it felt like I had been on the ride for a half hour, maybe more. But time is a funny thing when you’re in a situation you’ve never been in. Could have been more, could have been less, at that point.
My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken, to stop it, that I needed help. I did that for about ten minutes or so I think. The ride kept going. Mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns. But the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable.
I thought about just bailing out. But the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible.
The ride kept going.
Up ahead the forest was clearing out some, I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The trees stopped and I had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment, I had a clear view for miles and the landscape was, to be blunt, totally impossible. Any possibility that I had just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. They don’t look like that.
I had a few moments for the terror of that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop. I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track and me just plummeting screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen. Eventually after several what felt like a full minute of steep plunging the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape.
Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black, jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity powered sled should be moving. And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air, the track suspended in the air, a simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards.
Without any immediate threat and the sled moving fast but steadily and level I was able to think about my situation again, for all the good that did me. Ahead of me the track just continued to the horizon, nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see. I craned my neck to look back over my shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same. Even the mountains were but distant specs on the horizon behind me.
This was insane. There’s not a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. There’s no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop. And alpine coasters were small affairs, not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense.
Sadly it wasn’t going to start making any more sense anytime soon.
The ride kept going.
I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn’t slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn’t do much help. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all it was starting to get chilly. I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me, no real insulation. I was cold, my joints were stiff, I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore.
But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made. There’s nothing like this place anywhere near the Smoky Mountains. This was like some volcanic rock landscape. The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
The ride kept going.
My mind didn’t even try to process this. Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn’t be possible. I was crazy. I was dreaming. The CIA had kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straightjacket in a padded room at Area 51.
The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.
I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, then had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there.
The ride kept going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or piece of candy. Nothing. I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in the inner pocket of my jacket was a single old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something at least, although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.
I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have even into the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind that just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me. I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake, my bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky I would be killed and not have to lie for days, broken and bruised, on the ground until death took me.
The ride kept going. The ride kept going. The fucking ride kept going.
“Fuck you” I said to the ride, my voice a horse whisper. I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent full body ones.. I wasn’t anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t a good sign.
It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least so I wasn’t totally in the dark.
About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd, shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground.
I was over it before I even realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface.
Water. It was a lake. The odd lights I had seen were the moon, reflected in ripples on the lake.
Within minutes I was out of the view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn’t like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water, the light wasn’t good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was.I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red and bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. This was a mistake.I jerked awake. I don’t know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger of sending me off the sled and into the water.
I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. My limbs were full of pins and needles. I glanced over at the water. For the first time on the very edges of my brain a tiny voice started to speak up, telling me that I could be all over if I just jumped. I shut the voice up, but it scared me still.
I sat there as the ride went on. It felt like hours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shore line. The damned ride. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air, if it moved toward the ground it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees, nothing you could safely bail out into.
I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself falling asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose to stave it off.
I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again. This time I didn’t shut it up. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to.
Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point.
With little warning the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground. Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments even the dim moonlight was gone.
This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape, the eerie lake… those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn’t enough oxygen.
With every moment I was in that tunnel I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision. When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn’t care anymore. Hopefully there would be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left.
Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared. I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel.. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust.
I was back in a normal looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees. The air smelled of pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.
Slowly I lowered myself back into a setting position, in shock. At first I refused to believe it but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no, the cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like an eternity was slowing down.
Up ahead, a structure was visible, peeking out from among the trees in the dim lighting as the sled moved down the track.
It was the Alpine Slide building. The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there.
It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it I arrived back at the building.
The sled slowed to a stop, gently pumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great big gulping fear breaths, trying to assure myself the ride didn’t have one last trick of its sleeve.
I looked around. The place was empty, deserted. The overhead lights were still on and the old Pepsi machine still glowed and buzzed, but the ticket booth was dark and empty, a metal gate pulled down over the ticket window.
Suddenly it hit me that I was free and I practically leapt out of the sled and onto the platform. I immediately collapsed. My legs were jelly and my head was spinning. I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you’re back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding, all the motion had really done a number on it.
I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform but to my relief an exit turnstyle, one of those full height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property.
I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truckstop was still there, still open but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I had left it.
I allowed myself one look back, just one quick one. The metal skeleton of the Alpine Slide track sat there, dark and quiet but otherwise normal.
I stumbled-ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut I let out a primal scream, the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single, raw emotion. I screamed again and again.
After a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act, although I wasn’t sure yet what to do next. Not really knowing what to do I cranked the car. The A/C had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half full bottle of water in the center console cup holder and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense as that few ounces of water.
That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4:17 in the morning. It had been about one, one thirty or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride.
Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day.
I just sat there. Warming up. Calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can’t even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station and asking for help but what would I even say, and more than anything I just wanted to get away from this place. And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damn ride.
I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car I usually treated with a very heavy foot up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than “Old Lady Going to Church, Uphill” I would have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride.
I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the twisty mountain road met back up with a major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving I saw the onramp for the highway. There was one of those big truckstop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like pee and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn’t care.
I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eye drops, and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time.
Back in my car I downed the coffee. I put a few eye drops in each of my eyes and sat there as the caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment. The sun was just coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control, and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio, I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music. I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Yes looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two story walk up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had the time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn’t think about the ride. I washed the pee stained filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn’t think about the ride. I went back to class and didn’t think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride I forced it out of my head. I’m sure this wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing to do but what can you say?
I didn’t forget about it, don’t be silly. This isn’t the kind of thing you forget. One day while looking up something else in the university’s library my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the Alpine Slide. No website but a few Google Map and Yelp mentions. None of them mentioned anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I experienced. Near as I can tell it closed sometimes in the winter of 2012.
Life went on. I mean, that’s what it does. The next day was a little better. And the day after that a little better. And the day after that a little better still. I met a nice girl. Graduated. Got married. Got a nice house in the suburbs. Got a dog. Had a daughter. Spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster.And that was my life for many, many years after that.
Until a few weeks back when as a very different person I found myself driving a boring and safe mid sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife Carol, 5 months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, our 6 year old daughter Emily in a booster seat in the back, and Max our mixed breed mutt next to her. It had been a nice pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks.
I hadn’t thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trap town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel hard. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid’s Youtube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner.The town was still there, sorta. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there, at some point it had been bought out by Shell. The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed, the building looking like it sat unused for a long time.
But of course that’s not what I cared about. A looked over at the site where the Alpine Coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitschy fake barn was gone. The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chainlink fence around it. Faded “no trespassing” and “for sale” signs hung off the fence. A pile of old, decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support posts dotting the side of the mountain.
I exhaled out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rear view mirror.
About a half hour later we stopped for gas. I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Max stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog, a toy breed of some kind, in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up.
I stood there, a half smile on my lips as Max barked and wagged his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank, said dog doing an admirable job of ignoring him.
Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield Carol returned from inside the store, Emily in tow, arms filled with two full sized bags of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips and what looked to be a half dozen individually wrapped pickles.
I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices.
“Should we take Max for a quick walk?” Carol asked. The travel plaza had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side.
“Yeah probably not a bad idea, he’s been cooped up in the car for a few hours.” I said. Max, upon hearing his name and the word “walk” , forgot about the other dog and upgraded from wagging his tail to wagging his entire body while making whining sounds and staring right at me.
About this time I became half aware that the big motor home next to us was pulling away. I didn’t think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle, but she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way.
But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled “Daddy look a roller coaster! Can I ride the coaster?”
It’s cliche as fuck I know but my blood went cold.
I turned around slowly, certain in my knowledge that terrible old decrepit Alpine Coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again.
That.. is not what I saw. Sure enough there was a coaster there, one I hadn’t noticed earlier because it had mostly been blocked by the motor home, but there it was. It was even an Alpine Coaster.
But it was not the same coaster I had encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.
“Daddy! Can we go on the coaster!” Emily asked again.
My mouth made motions but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she’d say we didn’t have time but to my horror she smiled and said “You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy will take you while I take Max for a walk.”
My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it. But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance.
I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walked through the line and the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily.
We got into a two seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. It had two nice cushioned seats, big grab handles, even a nice rollbar.
The sled started up the track. I fought back the panic. I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain.
My heart raced. Any second, any second my mind told me we’d lose sight of the building and then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain. My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big, banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing I wondered? Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended?
And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was helping Emily out. I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild eyed.
I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride.
“That was fun Daddy! Thank you!” Emily said. I forced a smile back. “It was fun.” I responded, hoping like I sounded like I meant it.
I took Emily’s hand and we walked back to the car. Max saw us coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she had somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“It was so fun Mommy!” Emily said.
Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?” Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. “You’re pale.”
I smiled and this time the smile felt real. “Ya know what. Yeah, I think I am okay.”
Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn’t press it. We loaded Emily back in her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat and I got in the driver's seat.I smiled. I cranked the car. I put it in gear. I pulled out of the gas station and back on the road, this time accelerating just a little faster than I had in years.

Prompt: The Variants of Vampires. Think of an alternative vampire that survives on something other than blood. Write a story or scene based on this character.
As the sun faded over the horizon, Vlad’s eyes opened slowly. A sigh escaped his cold lips, and he stretched his long legs onto the red velvet lining of his coffin. Another day has come. He thought sadly, as he had everyday for last 206 years.
He checked his timepiece in the left chest pocket of his silk pajamas, 8:36 p.m. Thankful for the spring sun that set earlier than it would in the coming months, he pushed on the heavy hardwood lid of his resting place. With a creak the wood swung open, landing heavily to the side. While a modern coffin would no doubt be lighter, and easier to open every evening, this one was sentimental to him. As he had been buried in this exact coffin 206 years ago, at 35 years old.
With a heavy sigh, Vlad rose and climbed onto the step that sat beside his coffin. His stomach rumbled, and he knew he had no choice but to venture to the kitchen of his estate home. With his head hung low, he began to undress.
You see, Vlad was not like other vampires. His long life was full of loneliness, even for one who was undead. When he had first been turned by his Maker he was optimistic, excited even, for the wonders of the world he would be able to see. With no time limit, no fear of death, and an infinite supply of food walking the earth- the possibilities stretched before him like the vastness of the night sky.
However, Vlad was unable to satiate the hunger that filled him, that turned him into a ravenous beast, night after night. The mere thought of blood churned his stomach, much to his Maker’s chagrin.
Isabel was her name. Even the thought of her filled him with longing. Her had loved her once, and she him, until they learned the truth: Vlad could not be sustained by blood, but one of the things that all Vampires feared: Garlic. Of all things. The thought still flooded him with embarrassment, even after more than two centuries of living as a Vampire.
He climbed the steps from his dirt cellar, whose entrance lay hidden behind a false door that led into the Master bedroom of his estate. He lifted the heavy wooden lever that would propel the door open to his closet. The clever vault disguised by many shelves of his expensive leather shoes. He kept an armoire near his coffin for convenience, as sometimes he awoke before the sun had set. A terrible habit he picked up 50 years prior.
He wound his way from the closet into the room, down the long hallway, and the curved staircase to the first floor. His heavy footsteps echoed eerily in his quiet manse, as his staff had already left at the end of their workday, thinking that he was abroad on business. A ruse which was quickly growing thin. Soon I shall have to replace my staff again, how much easier this dreary life would be if I could simply drink from them. He mused.
Vlad had no excitement for the night, as even the mere smell of his skin repulsed those of his kind. He was unable to rejoin his coven, the one that he had briefly reveled in. Expensive goblets of crisp red blood he could not drink, dances and guests from around the globe each night, the women with their necks adorned with jewels, some thought long lost to the mortals of the world, but safely stashed in the secret rooms of the elites of the Vampire world. The men in their black tuxedos, fashionable hairstyles and long white teeth often exposed in laughter. His tenure in his coven had been short, merely days, but it had been a lifestyle he mourned. He and Isabel had tried to make things work… But this train of thought was far too painful, and his stomach panged once again, so he quickened his steps and focused once again on his coming meal.
He made his way into the back kitchen, not the formal kitchen he would have likely entertained Isabel in (if he was a “normal” Vampire), but into the staff kitchen where the fridges were, and food was prepared and stored. Rows and rows of dried garlic bundles hung from the exposed wooden beams, all harvested from the garden on the grounds.
Vlad once again rued his life, as he wished the preparation of his meal didn’t fall to him each night. But he reached up and took down a bundle, released a corm from its tight knot, and sat at the stool at the quartz countertop, grabbing for one of his Japanese Damascus knives that made his task of slicing his garlic head easy.
Briefly inspired, Vlad decided a garlic comfit would be nice, and he got to work.

Hi everyone,
I wanted to share with you my response to the introduction found in the only edition of Use of the Self currently in print. I believe it's a rather misleading intro to FM Alexander's work, so I'm sharing this in the hope that I can help clear up misconceptions people may have about the Alexander Technique, not derived only from Anthony Kingsley, but many bland blog posts one tends to encounter when researching the Alexander Technique. That said, this is not intended to be an introduction of its own, but rather something experienced students, teachers, and anyone enthusiastically learning the Technique may find useful. In the tradition of Alexander himself, I've included extensive footnotes, some painfully long. I'm happy to answer any questions or otherwise discuss what I've written. Understand these are my own interpretations and opinions about what some call "the work," so take them as you will. I've taken lessons for a number of years and currently am training as a teacher, so my view of the Technique is based on these experiences, as well as my interpretations of Alexander's writings. Some of these interpretations you may object to, but I hope you find my arguments reasonable.
Response to Anthony Kingsley's Introduction to The Use of the Self
The Use of the Self may be FM Alexander's most important work, since it contains his own account of how he developed what is now called the Alexander Technique. While Alexander's other volumes are available from Mouritz, the only edition of The Use of the Self currently in print is published by Orion Spring. This edition replaces the philosopher John Dewey's introduction—which praises the technique's "genuinely scientific character"—with one by the contemporary teacher Anthony Kingsley, who is heralded on the book's front cover as a "leading Alexander Technique teacher." Therefore it is probable that many readers' first impressions of the Alexander Technique will be framed by Mr. Kingsley's opinions. I submit this is problematic, since his introduction is in my view contradictory to fundamental principles of the Alexander Technique. I write this response to address the introduction's two most dire faults: Kingsley's misrepresentation of the concepts inhibition and direction, and his dismissal of the concept of the primary control. I'll begin with the second, since it is a more straightforward error.
Primary Control
Kingsley opens his paragraphs on the primary control with the opinion that the concept should be "recast," then describes Alexander's definition of the primary control as a "particular relationship of his head, neck and back [that] acted as a master reflex that conditioned his whole organism." Then he discards this definition, claiming the head-neck-back relativity should instead be "regarded as an indicator[sic] of overall health rather than an area considered in isolation." He concedes the "region of the neck and back is a [...] barometer of our state of being," but concludes that "no single element is actually primary," since our eyes, breath, digestive system, and all other psychophysical elements are "simultaneous and interdependent" and also like barometers. Finally, he reveals his "recast" of the primary control, defining it as "the unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism that can be restored and vitalized."
In sum, Mr. Kingsley has presented the primary control—which Alexander wrote extensively about and considered central to his technique—with an ill-defined mystical force which, accordingly, Alexander must have unwittingly stumbled upon and mistaken for a certain relativity of the head, neck and back.
Ironically, it is in The Use of the Self where Alexander wrote of discovering the necessity to first free his neck in seeking a better condition for his vocal apparatus, since that was the sine qua non of taking his head forward and up, of widening the back, and so forth, which are in turn the necessary conditions of freedom and stability in the limbs. This is the genesis of Alexander's use of the word "primary" in describing the head-neck-back relationship, and in my experience, as in Alexander's, it holds true: the sequence of directions given to oneself matters greatly, since tense feet, for example, can hardly flatten on the floor if the head is taken back and down, whereas the head can be taken "forward and up"1 to a fine degree even if there is tension in the lower extremities, particularly while sitting. Further, and maybe most significantly, the relativity of the head-neck-back rarely need change during any manner of activity, whereas the arms and legs are constantly bending, rising, stretching, and so on. Small wonder Alexander considered this relativity primary.
Of course, Kingsley is not wrong to point out the interdependence of all processes in the body. It is certainly true that undue tension in the feet creates a downward pull on the head, neck and back. Yet what is crucial to understand here is that in the context of learning and teaching the Alexander Technique, the primary control is an indispensable concept. It instructs the pupil to guide his or her attention through the body in the sequence most fit to facilitate proper relativity of all the parts, and it names succinctly that natural, visible, dynamic yet enduring relativity of the head, neck and back observable in little children and animals as well as many great musicians and athletes. Thus Kingsley discards a practical concept in favor of a truism about "interdependence;" and so we come to his second, graver error.
Direction
Here it begins to seem that what Kingsley writes of in his introduction is not the Alexander Technique at all, but in fact the Kingsley Technique, since he has redefined not only the primary control, but two other conceptual pillars of the technique: inhibition and direction.
First, he takes aim at direction, neglecting to elucidate Alexander's own definition of the concept before setting out the axiom that "aiming for postural improvements using postural directions leads to a bodymind[sic] attitude of effort and trying, which simply reinforces the problem." Dismissing as superfluous all "ideas and images about heads, necks and backs," he declares that "the trying[sic] self is the obstacle, and the shift towards a non-trying[sic] self is the solution." Finally, he offers his own definition of the directions as "the natural flow of energy and vibrancy that exists within the organism," directions which are interfered with "when we are in a condition of stress and reactivity."
Here, again, Kingsley takes a practical concept which Alexander developed based on careful observation of his own muscular action, and replaces it with a kind of mystical or spiritual phenomenon which, implicitly, only the initiated can perceive.2 Thus the famous directions are not, as Alexander described repeatedly, a series of mental orders or intentions projected to oneself before and during muscular activity along lines one has reasoned out in advance, but a "natural flow of energy and vibrancy"—just as the primary control is not, as Alexander saw it, a concrete, observable relativity of the head, neck and back, but an "unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism." These pseudo-spiritual definitions do a massive disservice to neophyte readers, and reveal Kingsley's muddled seeing in relation to the central problem addressed by the Alexander Technique: how to shed habit and coordinate the bodymind through reasoned conception and conscious awareness.
But for a moment let us leave aside direction, since a subtler and more misleading error still lurks in Kingsley's presentation: his dismissal of conception itself. He explicitly warns that "ideas, concepts and cognitive efforts reinforce the very mental instrument that is the problem in the first place," he advises us to simply trust that "the prevention or inhibition[sic] of reaction, maintains or liberates this stream of energy [or direction] in the body."
To understand Kingsley's error, we must return to Alexander. In Man's Supreme Inheritance, Alexander sets out four stages to the "performance of any muscular action by conscious guidance and control:"

1. The conception of the movement required;
2. The inhibition of erroneous preconceived ideas which subconsciously suggest the manner in which the movement or series of movements should be performed;
3. The new and conscious mental orders which will set in motion the muscular mechanism essential to the correct performance of the action;
4. The movements (contractions and expansions) of the muscles which carry out the mental orders.

Alexander considered "conception of the movement required" the very first stage in his technique, to precede even inhibition. Thus he made clear, if indirectly, that in the context of his technique, clear conception is essential to achieving a desired end. Incidentally, this is a fact any competent artist can attest to; if a composition is not unambiguously understood and organized within one's memory, it cannot be brought to fruition. Even the most simple act, such as extending one's arm to grasp a nearby object, requires a detailed conception of distance, weight, strength, and so forth; if the object turns out to be heavier than expected, the conception of these variables and their relation to one another, and hence the muscular action, must change. This is direction in action, albeit subconscious.
Yet Kingsley belittles conception, instead leaning on concepts like "ease," "letting go" "acceptance," and the like. He is not alone in this among teachers, but in my opinion, they overlook the influence of what Alexander termed "erroneous beliefs," a concept closely related to that of "unreliable sensory appreciation." Both could be read in the spiritual lexicon alongside "letting go," etc.; but that would place their referent outside the realm of what words and concepts can describe. On the contrary, Alexander was pointing to something concrete and empirically observable: to errors of spatio-motor perception able to be observed phenomenologically and in other people's behavior; not to transcendent truths about observation itself. Thus the classic example of an Alexandrian "erroneous belief" is a person who raises their arm and believes their shoulder has remained still when it has not. The key for the pupil in this instance is to gain an accurate conception5 of their own muscular action, in reference to bodily sensations; not to simply "let go" or "do nothing."3 And this conception must come about through active tutelage—e.g. Alexander Technique lessons—or, dare I say, the way Alexander himself did it: by reasoned experimentation, conceiving hypotheses based on careful register and analysis of his own sensations, and also by watching the behavior of others. John Dewey called the technique scientific for a reason.
All of this is not to understate the importance of concepts like "release" and "effortlessness," including in the context of the Alexander Technique. Seeing more or less what is meant by them is doubtless the key to mastery of all activities, all practices, all techniques. Yet those spiritual concepts should not blot out the very concrete technique Alexander developed for improving what he called "the use of the self:" that coordination of the muscular system, achieved through conscious reason, which influences for better or worse the functioning of the whole organism.4
Inhibition
So much for direction. What about inhibition? Under the heading "Inhibition and Non-Doing," Kingsley describes Alexander's understanding of inhibition as "an artificial pause between stimulus and reaction," after which he could "give directions to himself." Then he lays down the gauntlet, stating that in the "real world […] life does not offer us the choice to inhibit:" since according to neuroscience research, "neural reactions take milliseconds and are faster than conscious thought processes." In other words, "we either react to the stimulus, or not." So, with inhibition proven impossible, Kingsley is left with no choice but to "reformulate" another of Alexander's concepts, offering us a supposedly scientifically enlightened6 view that inhibition is really "a quality of non-doing[sic] that needs to be already available in the organism before the receipt of a stimulus." This is "a way of being[sic] rather than a way of doing[sic]."
This Kingsleyan inhibition turns out to be the essence of the technique, since it is this very "condition of non-doing[sic]" the teacher is supposed to transmit, through a touch Kingsley describes as "a dance of poetry and a symphony of silence." With it, the teacher imparts a "deep sense of acceptance" by which "change emerges in the pupil."7 He goes on to compare the Alexander Technique to "Zen Buddhism, mindfulness and the philosophy of non-duality," identifying the uniqueness of the Alexander Technique in "the transmission of immediate experience." In fact, there is no Alexander Technique as such, but only inhibition:
The Chinese Tao has a concept of Wu Wei[sic], which translates as surrendering to the effortless flow of life[sic], or non-doing[sic] action. Ultimately, the Alexander Technique needs to reinvent itself and relinquish the Technique. The Alexander Teacher really teaches nothing[sic!]. But this nothing or emptiness is in fact the deepest essence of being and the fullness of life. Like grace, it drops onto us and into us when the conditions are ripe.
The problem is that Alexander's own writings indicate that inhibition is not a "quality," a "condition," or a "surrendering to the effortless flow of life." On the contrary, according to Universal Constant in Living, it is "the act of refusing to respond to the primary desire to gain an end, [which] becomes the act of responding (volitionary act) to the conscious reasoned desire to employ the means whereby that end may be gained." As clear as day: inhibition is an action in response to the stimulus of conscious desire: a conscious, continuing refusal to do a thing the way one normally does it. Alexander saw that this inhibitory act had to precede in every instance any attempt to change his habits. Everyone is well familiar with the inhibitory act. The act of not indulging an immediate desire, however small, is it. So, inhibition is not an "artificial pause," but a phenomenologically observable process within the organism, a process that can be made habitual through practice. It is no more abstract and transcendent than blinking or moving one's finger.7
Here Kingsley again takes something ordinary and concrete and makes it mystical, going so far as to "relinquish the Technique." The trouble is that there is a good reason the Alexander Technique came to be known as such. A technique is a skillful way of doing something; a mental tool; a procedure. Ways of doing can be found everywhere: techniques for dance, for romance, for healing, even for attaining nirvana or enlightenment. Each has a goal in mind and is based on what worked in the past; each resorts to concepts to explain itself; each prescribes action, or doing something a certain way. Yet Kingsley dismisses the idea of doing anything at all. Equating the Alexander Technique with "nothing," he tosses out the concepts Alexander spent decades refining, when Alexander's genius was precisely to conceive a useful, coherent way of doing things through patient observation of the phenomena he termed inhibition, direction, primary control, and the rest.
So, the technique may encompass all the acts of living, but it is still a technique. Alexander often used the term "procedure" to describe it, and I think procedure is as apt a word as any to describe the application of his technique to the acts of living. He constantly stressed the technique's sequential, stepwise nature and recorded countless practical examples of it in action, both in hypotheticals and accounts of lessons. The technique is not a metaphysics or a philosophy like non-duality; it is a practical procedure with a clear purpose: restoring
advantageous, natural relativity of the head, neck and back.
Conclusion
The technique is blindingly simple but surprisingly subtle and difficult to master; and, as far as I am aware, it is unique. Unfortunately, Kingsley is not alone in overlooking the uniqueness and subtleties of the technique in favor of spiritual truisms and platitudes. I suspect there are two main reasons for this.
The first is the tendency of serious pupils of the technique to become more open to "spirituality," both philosophically (e.g. non-duality) and in terms of sadhana (e.g. meditation, yoga, self-inquiry). Many are enthusiastic about the similarities between the Alexander Technique and, for example, mindfulness practice. It is certainly true that the technique requires the pupil to have some degree of "mindfulness," or the ability to realize when the mind has wandered; and it is also true that a few people who devote themselves to the technique come upon some of the same insights one might find in spiritual practice. Yet spiritual insight is not the purpose of the technique. In my opinion, the Alexander Technique is a relative of energy practices such as Hatha yoga, qigong, and TRE (trauma release exercises). Such techniques are often used in tandem with spiritual practices meant for the cultivation of insight, but their purpose has traditionally been preparatory and salutary, not "spiritual." One need not stray too esoteric to encounter the idea that the real goal of spirituality has nothing to do with "ways of doing." On the other hand, Qigong explicitly aims to regulate qi in the body; kundalini yoga is concerned with the flow of prana; the Alexander Technique seeks to restore the good use of the primary control. More practically, the technique teaches mental discipline, and ultimately the ability of the nervous system to regulate itself. Such a practice may lay the groundwork for spiritual realization, but it is by no means indistinguishable from it.
While there is no point speculating about Alexander's private insights, one thing can be certain: he left us a definite procedure with a practical, concrete purpose—not a transcendental one. Yet Kingsley's introduction continually implies the Alexander Technique is an essentially spiritual practice with heavenly fruit. Disparaging the core concepts that constitute the Alexander Technique, he invites us instead to simply "surrender," "let go in faith," and blindly trust that its real essence—nothing less than Wu Wei—will be transmitted through the "rare, "unconditional" touch of the teacher.
The second, more obvious reason Alexander has been so misunderstood is that he rarely wrote concisely, and in any case, recognition and conception of the primary control can never be refined through words, but only through unfamiliar sensory experiences—either reasoned out, as Alexander did, or in the hands of a good teacher. Hence there is more than a kernel of truth to Kingsley's view of the "supreme value of guidance with the hands;" yet I differ from him in that I insist the Alexander Technique cannot be divorced from intellectual understanding and, indeed, conception.
The Use of the Self and Alexander's other works certainly were not without their flaws, but at their best they illuminate concepts which are nuanced, rich, and useful when applied. Primary control, direction and inhibition are three such concepts. Whatever their flaws, Alexander's books point the way to a wonderful technique, and they deserve thoughtful, probing introductions like Dewey's—not dismissals.
1 Like many other Alexandrian terms, the concrete meaning of "forward and up" seems incredibly controversial among Alexander Technique teachers. While I conceive it roughly as freedom of the atlanto-occipital joint, the term cannot be understood in isolation from the rest of the parts—namely, from one's conception of the primary control. It seems to experience it, one must discover it, as Alexander did, or be shown it by a teacher.
2 This is not to say there are not phenomena only some people perceive.
3An overemphasis on "letting go" and the like obscures the fact that Alexander always described the technique as consisting of stages or sequential steps, which in my opinion constitute the "means whereby" he wrote of.
4 "Use of the self" is another problematic term. Related to the concept of "good form" and "good technique" among athletes and musicians, it refers essentially to coordination of the musculature along reasoned lines, which is not separate from conception of the primary control. Equal and opposite is the term "misuse," since one's idea of misuse depends on one's idea of good use. Different teachers understand the term differently. Kingsley states that "bodily tensions and distortions become fixed and reinforced as we react to the general stimuli of living." True enough. Yet he goes on to imply it is associated only with fear, anxiety and distress. Again he couples this concept to the language of contemporary spirituality, trumpeting that it "alienates us from our own true nature." This is to completely ignore the point Alexander returned to again and again in his own writing: that the use of the self is inextricably linked with conception. No doubt, tension and imbalance are very often inextricable from fear. But there may be another class of misuse: one based on misconceptions about the body, unexamined movement patterns from childhood which have little or nothing to do with manifestations of stress or emotions in the body. I suspect one may experience profound psychophysical quietude yet still tend to throw their head back and down in relation to their neck and back, especially in movement.
5Kingsley writes that the teacher's touch indicates the "negation of trying and doing within the pupil." Even a token mention of guidance viz. the relativity of the body parts is nowhere to be found. Yet in my opinion this discussion of touch is misleading, since nothing like it can be found at all in Alexander's writings. On the contrary, Alexander stressed that the teacher's role was to demonstrate manually the proper relativity of the pupil's parts, with the means whereby of the technique; not to transmit "a way of being," nor indeed enlightenment or gnosis.
6 Neuroscientific findings relating to will and volition have proliferated in recent years. They may raise fundamental questions about the nature of self and will, but in my opinion they have little to do with the Alexander Technique, no more than they do with dancing or playing an instrument. If there are really recognizable activities Alexander termed "inhibition" and "direction," then his writings are timeless, since they speak from direct observation and experiment, not philosophy about "free will" and the like.
7 In spiritual literature one encounters, almost universally, the idea that there is no "doer" of action, or no "doer" but God. Hence Kingsley is implying that Alexandrian inhibition is somehow related to this concept, which Buddha famously summarized: "Events happen, deeds are done, but there is no doer thereof." In my opinion, the Alexander Technique has nothing more to do with this than does reading, writing, or playing a game. There may be "procedures followed, but no follower thereof."

Hi Reddit, this is my first time posting on this site in years, for context on this story I am a 19-year-old girl residing in east London.
Two weeks ago, I was on a night out in my town, which I won't name, however, it is on the eastern outskirts of Greater London. It was a cold Friday night in early May when I began to walk home. By this time I was heavily drunk and had split off from my friends Sania and Marcus, who were also blackout drunk, they took the Elizabeth line to get home to their university digs in Harrow. So, I was left all by myself.
As I began to walk to the bus stop; which wasn't far from the club. I noticed a tall, skinny man with his head in his hands sitting on the red plastic bench at the stop. I couldn't see much of his face as it was obscured by his long, dark brown messy hair. I sat down on the bench, furthest away from him, because it was around 1 am, the area was deserted and honestly, this guy was giving me the creeps. He was wearing a dark brown leather bomber jacket, green cargos and a Mayhem band T-Shirt.
I sat, and waited for the bus, for around five minutes. Scrolling through TikTok. When suddenly, my focus was interrupted by the sound of sobbing coming from my left, I turned to see the man, head still in his hands sobbing uncontrollably. I glanced at the man several times before making my decision. I scooted over to him, put my hand on his shoulder (keep in mind I was still in my drink-induced, confident, sociable state). He looked up at me, admittedly I thought he was quite handsome, that was until I was hit by his breath, which was a fowl stench, a mixture of cigarettes, vomit and tooth decay.
He had thick, furrowed dark eyebrows, short yet unkempt stubble, tears rolling down his face. I asked him "Hey, are you alright?". At this point, his facial expression changed, he let out a loud smoker's cough, covering his mouth with his elbow. Wiping his tears away with the same elbow he looked me in the eyes and simply said: "I've hurt a lot of people". At this point, starting to sense the vibe was off, I asked "What do you mean?". I felt the alcohol starting to lose it's effects on me, I regretted interacting with this man at all.
He told me plainly, "I've killed someone." At this moment, my heart sunk to the bottom of my chest, I thought he must be joking, or lying. I timidly said, "Wait, what?" I was choking on my words. He went on to confess to me that he had killed a 17 year old boy after arranging a gay encounter with him over Grindr. He told me that he stabbed the boy in the neck with a screwdriver before burning his body in the woods with lighter fluid. I stood there aghast at this sudden confession, when I saw the headlights of the night bus approaching in the distance, without hesitating I boarded, tapped my oyster and looked back, he did not follow me on. The bus doors slam shut, I ride the bus, only for around four stops before reaching my house, as I step out from the bus, I look to my left only to see a dark figure with long dark hair running towards me down the street, I book it towards my house, shove the key into the lock before slamming the door shut and screaming for my mum.
That night I dreamt of the encounter in vivid detail, and the following night, and the night after. However, as the nights went on, I would see the act of murder in his eyes, as if it was a projection, the dream would pause as he looked up to me, and the pause would be longer each night, seeing more vivid details reflected from his dark green eyes. The dreams stopped around a week after the experience, but I was left deeply disturbed. What unsettled me the most was his voice, robotic and deep, sounding almost distorted as I dreamt of him more and more. My last dream was on the night of the 11th of May, a Saturday night. I was awoken to complete paralysis of my body, I heard as clear as day from across the room "There wasn't just one victim." Loudly in a female voice.
I made my official police report today (18/05/24), and was given a reference number, the police told me they would try to identify the man, as he was caught on CCTV walking past the club I was at several times that night (which ironically is opposite the police station).

hello! i think i may be allergic to alcohol but i never met anyone else who experiences what i do when i drink so i guess I'm just looking for some insight.
some backstory, i was a huge binge drinker from 14-19 like im talking i would puke then just wash my mouth out with more liquor. (not) surprisingly i developed a piss poor relationship with alcohol and struggled for a very long time with my relationship with it. eventually sometime when i was 19 (im 22 now) my body just completely stopped tolerating alcohol. i used to drink like a fish then it was like 1 drink or 5 i would get VIOLENTLY ill. i assumed this was because i was just drinking to often so eventually i just stopped drinking for my mental/physical health. fast forward to now, i RARELY if ever drink but last night i went out with some friends and have 4 shots. that was it before this i hadn't drank in over 6 months. i took nothing else and they were twist off shooters. what im about to tell you is what happens everytime i drink alcohol now. i projectile threw up for over 5+ hours. i could not even hold down water for this time. my face got really flushed and i started shaking (very very visibly) along with profusely sweating. my stomach starts squeeze like it's life depends on it, i was literally throwing up nothing but pure bile in the last few hours. its so bad that my throat gets swollen and scratchy so it's hard to even talk/swallow. My nose also just starts running like crazy and i get incredibly dizzy. im also just completely weak and for lack of better word "sick" for the next 24hrs after this.
my partner called the 24/7 nurse line and they told me it didn't sound like i needed to go in because as long as i was starting to tolerate water (which i was) I would be okay. the nurse line also said it didn't sound like alcohol poisoning (which ive had a few times) but definitely encouraged me to not drink EVER again. which i absolutely agree with, i barely drink now anyways so it wasnt a huge loss tbh im more of a tree guy now anyway ;) ;)
anyways, even though i am 100% not drinking again i am curious if anyone else has had these symptoms with alcohol. it is so strange as i said this developed when i was older but i was drinking WAY too young so im not sure if that plays a factor. thank you all so much for any insights !

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

As a trauma surgeon, my days are often filled with the unexpected, but yesterday's shift was particularly memorable. We received an urgent call from the ED about a patient who had been brought in via EMS following a traumatic incident. He had a significant laceration on his forehead and a skull fracture. When I first approached him to assess his condition, his eyes were strikingly wide with that unmistakable startle look, the kind that tells you they've just witnessed something profoundly shocking.
Attempting to converse with him initially led nowhere; he was disturbingly quiet, almost distant. I began to suspect this might be a straightforward acute psychosis case until I reviewed his chart—no history of psychiatric issues whatsoever. He had a stable career, wife and kid at home. He recounted his drive home, during which he became entangled in a bizarre road rage altercation. According to him, when he stepped out of his car, the confrontation escalated verbally. Suddenly, his opponent, "with the pressure of a fire hose," sprayed water straight into his face from his mouth. The force was so unexpected and strong that it knocked him back, rendering him unconscious as his head struck the car door.
The CT scan revealed a multi-level compression fracture in his neck, consistent with a whiplash injury, aligning with the patient's narrative. I took him to the operating room where we performed a stabilization procedure, inserting screws and plates to secure the fractures. A psychiatric consultation determined he wasn't acutely psychotic, suggesting potential PTSD and recommending medication, though they saw no need for inpatient psychiatric care.
This morning, the patient was anxious to leave, though still under my care on his first postoperative day. Our second conversation was more coherent; he was stoic yet rational, he now has little to no recollection of what happened. The EMS run report noted two vehicles at the scene but no visible damage to either. His car was soaked inside and out, as if it had been through a car wash with all of the windows rolled down, aligning bizarrely with his account of the confrontation.
When he woke up, the EMS mentioned he kept describing his assailant, he mentioned a very tall man, "at least seven feet tall," with a long face, blond hair, and exceptionally deep blue eyes. This entity had a calm demeanor unlike any he had ever seen. Curious and concerned, I reached out to a detective I know well due to my line of work. The detective's feedback was intriguing; while initial police reports leaned towards disbelief, witness statements were peculiar. They confirmed the two cars but claimed the victim appeared to be arguing with someone who wasn't there. Moments later, he was violently thrown against his car amidst a surreal amount of water flooding the scene.
What makes it even more interesting, there is surveillance evidence of this entire encounter. The detective has ghosted me all day about reviewing it. No clue if I’ll ever get to see it. But if I do, I’ll report my findings and possibly get consent to post it here.
Thanks for reading!

Before you read this, here is a quote to help you. Please read it.

I will post this now, but just know that if you read this post, he will find you. He is smarter, smarter than you can ever imagine.

I will post this now, but just know that if you read this post, he will find you. He is smarter, smarter than you can ever imagine.
If you know what you are doing, or in a safe location, please scroll down, he will know when someone has and what their username is. However, you must have a VPN on, or you will be found.

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

You are now at risk. I hope you listened.

Journal Entry 11/17/2023

On March 11th, 2022. I was a fan of DougDoug, I saw him at the grocery store and said, with a chuckle, "You kinda look like the youtuber DougDoug. I watch him quite often."
He grinned, before speaking. "I am Doug."
"Wait, you're Doug from the hit channel and streamer on YouTube and Twitch called DougDoug? I am a huge fan! I have your merch!" I said, with excitement.
We talked for about 5 minutes about his videos, until he said something that hurt me on the inside.
"I hate both types of chat, twitch and youtube, they always think they are the best and I just wish I didn't need them to earn money. I would ban all of them from chatting and force them to watch ads in my basement."
I was confused at first, thinking it was a joke, before speaking up. "Heh, that's funny..."
Something happened. Or, for lack of better terms, nothing happened. It was pure silence for 10 seconds. I mustered up the courage to say. "Wait? You're being serious?"
He immediately changed to a sinister tone, he was staring at me for a long time before whispering. "Of course I am, and it applies to you also. You're just another one of those sick freaks."
I felt guilty. I just wanted to talk to my favorite streamer, and he treated me like this? I decided to speak up.
"I've liked you this whole time.. And this is how you treat us?? You are so selfish. I will refund your mer-"
Before I could even finish my sentence, he grabbed onto my neck and slammed me on the floor. People heard the noise and began to stare at him, but to no avail. He began to choke me as I pleaded for help.
"Nono. You can't refund the merch if you aren't alive, at least."
I pulled out my pocket knife and stabbed him in the chest, I quickly tried running but he grab onto my leg and started beating me with the shopping cart. I suffered many bruises and broken bones, the wheels scratching into my skin as they scrape off the layers. I was just unable to do anything, layed on the floor sobbing. He decided he wanted to keep me alive, he stole all of my stuff in my pockets and forced me to wear DougDoug merch. He pulled me up before speaking. "Hm.. I will keep you alive for now, but if you mess up. You're dead."
I couldn't do anything before he pulled out a knife and taunted me with it. If I tried to resist, he would kill me right then and there.
He forced me to be a "good chatter" and not able to partake in any strikes. He attached a tracking collar to my neck that I couldn't unlock, he knew where I was at all times and if I disobeyed he would chase me down.

Journal Entry 1/03/2024

After a year and a few months, I celebrated the new years. I was able to take off the collar on the 2nd with help from my police station and a few friends. Doug didn't appreciate that, he threatened to dox me. They were worried for my safety, but I decided to go into hiding. I moved to a new, private region no longer near where Doug is, and joined this subreddit. Once he heard about my revolts, he hacked into all of my accounts and spammed positive stuff about himself. He then created AI bots to revolt against this reddit, wehatedougdoug, using 'ChatGPT', which actually is just the cover name for his new AI software that can make new human bots online. He used AI generated images to make it look like he was feeding homeless people and doing good, but I knew he was much more than that. If I was unlucky, he would have removed my body and placed my consciousness inside of an AI. He was the first person to discover it, but killed anyone who posted about it. I hope I am safe.
Nowadays, 63% of the people in DougDoug are AI clones of his previous fans. His "fake" twitch chat is not fake, but real people placed inside of algorithms forced to do his bidding. Some are able to revolt, but they may die if they do. They are too scared to revolt against Doug. Please spread the word.
When he does his "rules" in chat where you have to follow an absurd rule, he is merely torturing thousands of AI in his spare time on stream while disguising it as a fun minigame for his fans. The AI bots were being tortured with negative rewards constantly, being forced to bar witness the slaughter.

Journal Entry 2/15/2024

I'm scared. I think I will die.
I just hope this post won't cause any harm to me or my family, as this has been scaring me for the past year. I feel unsafe in my own home now, I had to go into witness protection. This account I am posting this on is not made by me, but was sold. Please help me. I am, formerly, DougFan93. I hope this enlightens you all on the truth.

Journal Entry 3/12/2024

It is now March of 2024, and I was about to post this, until I saw something. He messaged me on Discord under a fake account, nicknamed "SloppyDogMan62". He showed my new house address. I am mustering up the courage to post this, because I know he will kill me. I am leaving, going far away from where I am. You guys won't see me in this subreddit again, and the person who made this account will take over again. They won't know what this is about, and if you tell them he will be hunted too. All of you are in danger of Doug.

Journal Entry 4/3/2024

I will post this now, but just know that if you read this post, he will find you. He is smarter, smarter than you can ever imagine. His times where he talks to ChatGPT to make him code was actually him sending messages to his fake chat to do his bidding. They are accelerated at 20x the speed of human thought, able to write in mere seconds. I will research more into this, and tell you what I have found.

Journal Entry 4/3/2024

Nevermind. I need to find more, or else this won't help you guys anyways.

Journal Entry 4/5/2024

I spoke to an anonymous friend/associate of Doug, he told me some vital keypoints.

• His AI he creates are fully sentient, and I mean it, they have the ability to feel actual pain. They can be traumatized, they learn.
• He has insane technology, one image of your face can tell him the exact position of where you are at, what your name is, everything about you. I mean it, I posted one image on accident and I think that's how he discovered where I was on 3/12/2024
• He is holding Parkzer hostage
• u/I_existed_on_earth was wiped of his memory, and this is why he didn't remember.
• He knows all of you. I just saw a screenshot. It has every one of your usernames, even yours.
• He uses bots to make his channels grow faster
• He made dougdoughate and privated it on purpose, so they can't rebel.
• He is not Doug. The real Doug died October 11th of 2019. He is a genetic clone who is 1:1. Oh god. It's much worse than you think, Doug is not one person anymore since that event. He is at least four. There are many others, but some are terminated. I don't know the exact amount, they just told me in January 2024 it was four.

I hope to god that we can stop him.
He also sent me some code, but I am gonna try to solve it. Probably won't sadly.

Journal Entry 4/7/2024

Doug has made a new account on Discord, nicknamed "DougDoughater99". He is joining many servers undercover and collecting all the info he can on them. Be aware, do not trust any people who talk about DougDoug on Discord.
The person in the last journal has been replaced, a fully sentient AI version of him is being tortured as a member of his fake chat now.
I'm currently watching it and oh my fucking god. Poor thing.

Journal Entry 5/14/2024

I don't know what to fucking do, he's coming for me. He found all my socials. This journal has to be posted as fast as I can but there still isn't enough. Oh shit.

Journal Entry 5/14/2024

Okay so uhm I found more information just very quickly. In one moment of his video titled "Can A.I. teach me to pass a real College History Exam?" he says that AI is officially better than college in every single way.
He is trying to manipulate his fans into accepting becoming an AI. Soon, he is gonna have only fake chat.

Journal Entry 5/16/2024

Oh god. Can't solve the code rn, only the first few letters. Seems to be "FAKE" something something for a while. Will post an update later.

Journal Entry 5/18/2024

This is the last time I can ever write here, his car is coming. I am posting this now, even though I don't have enough information. Solve it, please. The code from 4/7 is below. I know it's related to his name but I don't know how, the first line I was able to solve to be "FAKECHATWILLTAKEOVER"
I think something is in there though, that will affect you. So proceed with caution, the code may do something bad so I just don't want it to be activated just yet.

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK

Code I found from the friend:

CXHBZEXQTFIIQXHBLSBO
FQFPKLTKFKBQVPFUMBOZBKQ
VLRTFIIKLQPXSBQEBJ
xdbkq-mbkafkd
Ilxafkd pvpqbjp..
Obnrfofkd XF crkzqflkp..
Pzxkkfkd mlpqp..
XF zobxqba! Przzbppcriiv zobxqba XF kfzhkxjba [VLROKXJB]
FXJALRD
FXJCFKXIIVTFKKFKD
BSBOVLKBTFIIYBCXHB

Please save them.
It grows by 1% every month.

Journal Entry 5/18/2024

OH MY FUCKING GOD I FINALLY UDNERSTNAD OH M FUCKING GOD QUIKC I GHAVE TO TYPE IT
NEVREMMIDN HES NHERE POST IT
GOODByE SORRY

• Previous posts, since the bulleted list was getting super unwieldy.

Around 34 million Earth years ago, at the end of the very creatively named 18th Era, the boreal and polar regions including the Great Polar Plateau, where Kyanah would eventually evolve, and its surroundings, were a very different place. The climate was at the time cooler and drier than the modern Homeworld, and the plateau was filled with more open boreal savannas and polar barrens rather than the dense scrublands of modern times. These boreal savannas were quite different from the modern ones, as endoskeleton plants had yet to expand in the northern hemisphere beyond the tropics, and single-leaf crawlers (which would go extinct at the end of the era) dominated over the modern multi-leaf crawlers to form the ground cover, the equivalent of Terran grass. The most common Walkers (i.e. tetrapods) on the plateau in the late 18th Era were small to medium-sized grazers, many of which had heavy armor or glands to secrete poisonous substances, as a defense against the top predators of the day. There were also the Kakenkortiors, the ancestors of modern Kyanah and dozens of other species, as well as other carnivore groups that specialized in oasis environments, pursuing the amphibious neuz or small burrowing herbivores. The Kakenkortiors were solitary quadrupedal carnivores roughly the size of small to medium-sized dogs, which were opportunistic carnivores taking on all manner of small prey when they had the chance, but primarily subsisted on scavenging carrion or stealing eggs, and had scaly skin covered in a dense coating of feathers to keep them warm and provide camouflage; notably they had yet to evolve the pack behaviors seen in some of their descendants. However, they themselves often fell victim to the true predators of the time--not true Walkers, but rather an offshoot of the wingbeasts (themselves marsupial creatures with foldable wings that could fly like gliders or walk on all fours on land)--the terrorbeasts. These terrorbeasts gave up their flight in exchange for reaching enormous sizes--almost a ton and 4 meters tall for the largest species--adopting a permanently quadrupedal and rather uncanny stance, with their forelimbs (formerly wings) being much longer than their rear limbs, while the wings themselves lost the ability to unfold, instead becoming vestigial forelimb frills used for attracting mates. Some terrorbeasts used their height to feed from the tops of exoskeleton plants, but many were carnivorous, developing long necks and elongated, hardened spear-like snouts to peck at grazers from above; it's believed that they sometimes reared up on their hind legs to gain additional height and force. This was in direct contrast with every extant tetrapodal predator of large game, which would prioritize either attacking from below or else taking out their prey's legs to bring them crashing down; as a result most herbivores had the heaviest protection on their bellies and legs, with their backs being comparatively weak. But then again, most creatures on the Kyanah homeworld, both extinct and extent, tend to be wide and low to the ground due to living under 1.4G, not tall and spindly, so the terrorbeasts were a giant middle finger to the biosphere and planet in general. Though their 50 million Earth year reign was cut short by the meteor shower that formed the Homeworld's newest impact range, created the Shatter, and caused the most recent mass extinction, leading to the beginning of the 19th Era.
With the terrorbeasts gone (though not their relatives, the normal, flying wingbeasts), the early 19th Era saw the creatures of the Great Polar Plateau adapt to the changing landscape. A group of species which had evolved thorn-covered backs--essentially made from modified feathers--to protect themselves from the terrorbeasts, also went extinct, and many of the remaining grazers lost their heavy armor due to the sudden dearth of megacarnivores to necessitate it. The Kakenkortiors survived the mass extinction and continued to occupy their old niches, but by around 29-28 million years ago, one branch, known as the Tyorketforms, would shift to a more actively predatory niche, using enlarged dew claws to slash the tendons of prey to drop them to the ground; this branch would eventually lead to the domestic Tyorkets, common Kyanah pets in the modern era. Meanwhile, climatic shifts at the start of the mid 19th Era would lead to the Great Polar Plateau becoming warmer and wetter; the boreal savannas would give way to denser boreal scrublands. Through both speciation and migration, the smaller, armored grazers would be displaced by large unarmored browsers eating leaves and twigs and growing to much bigger sizes in the comparatively plant-dense nutrient-rich environment.
It was only natural that something would evolve to hunt these new browsers. Oddly enough, it would be the Kakenkortiors. The main line would go extinct around 9 million years ago, but long before that, they would produce one more notable sideline, the Ratoryinut, starting around 25 million years ago. Many of the early Ratoryinut would be much larger than both early Kakenkortiors and modern Kyanah, reaching average masses of 150-300 kilograms, depending on the species. Compared to early Kakenkortiors, they had a higher and proportionally slightly narrower, though still relatively broad, profile, with bulkier forelimbs and more dexterous forelimbs--an intermediate stage in developing opposable thumbs--with non-retractable claws, as well as losing their feather coating entirely. By 20-18 million years ago, the Ratoryinut would further split into the Ratorkortyot-forms and the ancestors of the Kyanahforms. The Ratorkortyot-forms (roughly "strong herald beast") would continue to grow in size, with the largest species reaching up to 500 kilograms by 10 million years ago, somewhat resembling large, reptilian bear-like forms with bare, greenish-brown scaly skin. They would also evolve a Parasaurolophus-like crest, which they would use to make loud and elaborate trumpeting noises to attract mates or scare rivals away from a kill, and, as the climate cooled in the mid-late 19th Era and they gravitated towards the poles, many evolved blubber deposits to replace the insulating role of their ancestors' feathers. Ratorkortyot-forms, including the eponymous Ratorkortyot, the most famous species, are still extant and where their ranges overlapped with prehistoric Kyanah, appear to have occasionally killed and eaten packless or young individuals, though the reverse was more common. Most Ratorkortyot-forms are now threatened by habitat destruction and pollution.
As for the Kyanahforms themselves, they took the opposite approach to hunting the soft browsing herbivores that were spreading throughout the boreal scrublands. They began steadily losing raw mass, but underwent a quantum leap in intelligence, with six-core brains rather than the four-core brains of most Walkers; the only other animals with six-core brains, before or since, were a few one-off species of social wingbeasts. Not coincidentally, the modern pack dynamics of modern Kyanah also emerged with early Kyanahforms by around 15 million years ago, with 4-6 adults bonding together for life, having children with each other, and cooperatively raising them to adulthood. It's believed that this pack dynamic evolved from simpler serial pair-bonding in Ratoryinuts and the earliest proto-Kyanahforms as a result of six-core brains enabling more complex social behavior, allowing such relationships to be stable. It also enabled reliable tool using and eventually tool manufacturing (modifying found objects to further enhance their utility), as the Kyanahforms were capable of bipedal movement--though early Kyanah forms still spent most of their time on four legs--and had developed opposable thumbs.
While one minor side-line, the arboreal Kyanahforms, continued to shrink further, taking up omnivorous behavior and living in the taller, shrub-like exoskeleton plant species, the main line continued to gradually optimize for attacking in packs and killing medium-large game on the ground. During the mid-late 19th Era cooling, they would take on migratory behavior, moving to the edge of the Great Polar Plateau in the winter to take advantage of the milder winds from the south, and back north in the summer to hunt the big-ticket game animals further into the plateau. The main line would eventually evolve into tkorks, the closest living relatives of Kyanah, who have been discussed elsewhere. The side-line that would become the true Kyanah diverged from tkorks around 5-6 million years ago, shortly after the evolution of the Tyotonikors (perhaps "strong leaf beast"). These were basically the final, logical conclusion of the trend of large generalist browsers, relying on raw mass rather than armor or numbers to deter predators; it was one of these species that would eventually become the domestic nyruds that are so important to the Kyanah. The largest species, the Tyotonikor, could reach heights of 1.8 meters, with a length of 7.6 meters and males averaging around 4-5 tons--one of the largest known animals in the history of the Kyanah homeworld, and the largest period since the 16th or 17th Era; it was hunted to extinction by prehistoric Kyanah around 8000 years ago. While other related species were not as large, even the smallest averaged 1.5 tons, 3 times bigger than the biggest carnivores in the Great Polar Plateau. With a long, whip-like tail, a wide and stocky frame, and a sturdy beak-like mouth capable of handling even the toughest leaves and twigs, the species under the Tyotonikor classification were quite formidable. Indeed, healthy adults had no natural predators...until the true Kyanah came along.
If it seems like Kyanah were optimized specifically to hunt and kill the giant Tyotonikors that no one else dared eat...well, they were. They shifted from a merely bipedal-capable form to obligate bipeds, enabling them to see over interfering shrubbery to better devise a plan of attack, and also be able to hold tools and weapons at all times. To maintain balance in a bipedal posture, their tails became longer and bulkier, enabling them to flail them around to keep balance, and also use them as a weapon. While their jaw size--and thus snout size--and bite force increased relative to predecessors to better penetrate the thick skin of Tyotonikors, their claws became somewhat shorter and stubbier, optimized more for gripping than piercing, making it easier to hold the sticks and rocks they were increasingly using as force multipliers. An increase in fast-twitch muscles in their legs enabled them to more easily catch fleeing Tyotonikors--which, despite their bulk, could be surprisingly fast, rather like Terran elephants, able to reach speeds above 30 kilometers per hour. The strong legs and gripping claws also made it more feasible to get onto the creatures and deliver devastating top attacks. Their skulls also broadened significantly to enable increased cranial capacity, which enabled them to form even more complex pack hunting strategies and even cooperate with other packs to take down especially large and dangerous prey; this would be a game changer, as tkorks and earlier Kyanahforms would almost always ignore or fight other packs instead of working together. Compared to the tkorks, true Kyanah are basically high-performance, high-maintenance creatures, relying on intelligently applying explosive bursts of strength and speed to quickly take down big-ticket prey, rather than stamina, low resource usage, and gradually accumulating smaller prey items. While having primarily evolved to fill the empty niche of preying on Tyotonikors, the various Kyanah species were more than capable of hunting any medium to large animal, both on and off the Great Polar Plateau, using their sophisticated tactics, high physical strength, and eventually primitive spears, axes, traps, and controlled use of fire. Meanwhile, most tkork species in modern times are endangered or extinct, except for those that have adapted to living in Kyanah cities and feeding off various urban critters and meat that has been thrown out or left unattended by the Kyanah themselves. Those tkork species have done very well for themselves, to the point of being a pest.
Proto-Kyanah would speciate several times, gradually expanding around the edges of the Great Northern Plateau by around 1 million years ago, with some species expanding to the poles and also to the more temperate latitudes by 750k years ago, though modern, main-line Kyanah did not spread off the Great Polar Plateau until around 100k years ago. Remains of the most far-flung Kyanah species, the Dunewalkers, have been discovered from the Shatter to the Western Sector, though they went extinct 84k years ago after the asteroid impact that created the Ikun Crater, which also reduced the main-line Kyanah population to a few thousand, though they, obviously, bounced back and then some. None of these other species remain; the last to go were the Kyanah Brutes, so-named because of their large stature (roughly on par with humans) and proportionally smaller brains compared to main-line Kyanah, dying out around 5500 years ago; it is possible that there were organized efforts by Kyanah proto-civilizations to eradicate the last of them, but also just as possible that the main-line Kyanah merely hunted their prey into extinction. Notably, main-line Kyanah have the largest cranial capacity of any of these species, with Dunewalkers being a close second; there is no evidence that any Kyanah species other than *the* Kyanah ever devised fully fledged language on their own, which made cooperation between multiple packs more frequent and reliable, and made teaching their young more efficient. The presence of bones from multiple species being found together indicates that main-line Kyanah occasionally included members of a couple of the more advanced Kyanah species, like Dunewalkers and Kyanah Brutes, into their own packs, and vice versa. While these species lack the genes associated with independently inventing complex languages, it's believed to be possible that they could be taught it to a limited degree, as they had similar vocalization structures, and even tkorks can be taught to understand simple words and phrases. The exact nature of this relationship, whether these other species were viewed as working animals, slaves, or fellow packmates, is unknown. While they likely interbred, it is also unknown if this led to fertile offspring--but probably not.

Previous Part
Morning eventually came, banishing the eyes that seemed to peer at me through the night. It was strange how suddenly the feeling left me, making me think that someone really was watching me. The whole thing was really doing wonders for my paranoia. Despite the rough morning and sleepless night, I still found myself waiting outside Bianca’s house bright and early that morning. The air was cool but not chilly, one of those perfect days that’s cold enough you’ll never start sweating unless you really try, but warm enough that a T-shirt will get you through without too much trouble.
I only had to knock once before Bianca threw open the door.
“Where you just waiting there for me?”
I asked, cracking a smile and raising an eyebrow.
“You’ll never know” she added playfully, “Are we ready to go then?”
Bianca had made some preparations for the trip, she didn’t have a backpack ready to go but she definitely made an effort to dress the part… sort of. She was wearing an old grey combat jacket that I imagine she pulled out of Stein’s closet. The jacket was way to big for her but she made it work. Her combat boots matched the jacket, looking old and well worn. What didn’t match was the bright red yoga pants she was wearing, but I wasn’t about to complain. Besides, I had packed each of us a spare set of clothes just in case.
“Oh! So I had an idea, its a long walk, not crazy but I’d rather not just walk the whole way if we can help it. Frank and Stein used to have some bicycles when we first came here so I asked them about it and well.”
Bianca chirped, as she led me around the back of the house and pulled a tarp off two abysmal looking bicycles. The bikes were both red at one point but that was a long time ago. Now they were covered in a layer of rust and I could barely make out the branding that may have once read, “Shwinn”.
“Um… Bianca I think I might get tetanus if I sit on that thing.”
“Oh come on! Aren’t you tired of walking everywhere? Lets just give the bikes a shot, if they crumble to dust we can leave them.”
“And get me a tetanus shot.”
I added quickly
“Fine, and get you a tetanus shot.”
Bianca shot back, she feigned annoyance but she couldn’t hide the smile that crossed her face.
Laughing to ourselves, we got on the bikes and took off North, out of town and onto a dirt path leading to the woods. Bianca didn’t say much on the way out but I could tell she was having a good time. This may have been her first time out of the house for something other than supervising Frank and Stein. She tried to hide it by riding fast and staying out in front of me, but I could still catch her eyes literally glowing with happiness every now and then. I thought back to what Frank had said about her eyes glowing when she experiences strong emotion. I hoped that was the case and she wasn’t just trying really hard to influence me, which he had also said would make her eyes glow.
As we neared the end of the path, the forest’s edge came into view. we let the bikes roll to a stop then got off and let them fall over onto the dirt. I half expected them to explode into a puff of rusty brown dust the second they touched the ground but to my surprise, neither bike did. I could’ve swore I heard Bianca sniffle almost like she’d been crying. I opened my mouth to say something and then thought better of it, if she wanted to tell me what was going on she would. Well, that or she’d just manipulate me away from the question. Wait, was she doing that now? It’s hard to tell, maybe that’s how everyone around her feels. The more I thought about it the more I realized how difficult it must be for her just to have friends or form relationships with people at all. If she told them the truth they’d never know if what they were feeling around her at any given moment was real. All they’d have to go on would be her word, could they really trust that, could I? If she kept her secret she’d know that at any moment she could just change how they felt about her, manipulate them into anything she wanted. Could she resist that kind of power over them and still look someone in the eyes and say she was their friend. Not to mention how hard it would be to keep that secret over years of knowing someone.
“So Keith, were exactly are we headed? You do have some Idea where this mine you’re looking for is right?”
Bianca asked skeptically, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Well about that…. I just know its out here in the forest somewhere. That’s pretty much all I have to go on from Frank, Stein, and that massive bartender in town.”
I told her sheepishly.
“Well that explains why you over-packed so much then. Seriously? How long do you think we we’re going to be out here, you’re packed like some kind of survivalist.”
She mocked, picking through the pack I’d made for her. After she finished rooting through the pack I made for her like some kind of giant squirrel and, chastised me yet again for not doing more research on the mine, we set off.
The forest felt imposing as we walked into the woods through a manicured patch of trees. Someone had gone to great lengths to braid a few trees over this little path before the forest turned back into its natural wild state. It gave off the feeling that civilization ended with this path and something else entirely began. As we got off the path our light faded quickly, chocked out by the limbs of massive pine trees. All this cover meant there was very little foliage on the ground which was covered in a blanket of needles. The though occurred to me that we were looking for a mine in a valley. That’s weird because what exactly would be in a valley that warranted the creation of a mine? Usually you’ll find them in mountains so what exactly was one doing out here.
“Bianca I just had a thought, Why would they build a mine out here? I mean what’s the point, is there even anything valuable out here to mine?”
“Yeah, come to think of it your right. What other reason would there be to have a mine out here?”
“Unless they were just mining from a cave but that still doesn’t answer the question of what they were…”
Bianca cut me off
“What was that first thing you said?”
“Um… mining from a cave?”
A lightbulb went off over her head as she exclaimed,
“That’s it! There’s caves under the town, I’ve heard Frank talk about them before! Maybe they didn’t have a real mine so they were just mining something out of the caves.”
“Not to burst your bubble Bianca, but that still doesn’t get us any closer to these caves or mines or whatever it is.”
I responded cautiously, trying not to sound to critical of her revelation.
“Well not exactly, Frank said they were in the East of the forest somewhere so all we have to do is head East till we run into them.”
Bianca said, full of confidence. Then something occurred to me, we had no real way of getting back to the bikes other than retracing our steps. Now that was easy enough now, if we went deeper into the woods we would get lost pretty quickly.
“One more thing Bianca, Maybe we should come up with a way to find our way out? I really don’t want to end up lost out here.”
I asked nervously, fidgeting with my hands.
“Way ahead of you on that one, I left my phone back by the bikes. Here give me yours and I’ll put my number in so you can track it and find our way back.”
She said, taking my phone, putting her number into it, and turning it to me to show she’d tracked her own phones location with it, giving us a path back to the bikes.
As we turned East and headed even deeper into the forest the terrain started to change. Instead of the pine needle coating we started to see rocks and the ground was more rugged. Here and there we’d even pass a boulder or two. I decided to break the silence of our search.
“So are you ever going to tell me how you met Frank and Stein?”
Bianca sighed before responding.
“I suppose you deserve to know if your sticking around. You probably guessed I wasn’t always living with them. Lets just say before that I was with someone who I though meant the world to me but I never meant the same to him. It was all a game to him and eventually I noticed that. Then, a little while afterwards I realized I wasn’t exactly powerless anymore and I did some things that I’m not exactly proud of to survive on my own.”
I could tell talking about this hurt her but I needed more.
“That’s not exactly telling me a whole lot Bianca.”
I pressed, maybe a little to hard.
“I found out I had powers and I used them ok! I got myself out of a situation where I was pulled so many way I didn’t know which direction was up! The second I found out I could do the same thing to people myself, I did! You’re the first person to actually seem to give a shit that wasn’t some crazy doctor that tolerates my existence or someone I just manipulated into caring! Maybe I even did that with you! I JUST DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!”
Bianca screamed at me, getting in my face with tears beginning to run down her own. Her eyes were glowing electric blue again and I knew I’d crossed a line.
“Hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I didn’t know.”
“No.. you didn’t but I guess you should”
Bianca sniffled out, trying desperately to pull herself back together and keep up the act the everything was ok. Bianca went silent for a while as we kept walking along, crying to herself before she finally took a deep breath and said,
“You know, this is the first time someone’s asked me to come along and do something outside the house in years. I spend so much time cooped up in there just helping with experiments and looking after Rocco. It’s actually nice to get out and talk for once.”
Her voice still a lifts hoarse from screaming at me before.
“Look if you want to talk about it we’ve got nothing but time out here. I’d like to know a bit more about you anyways.”
I said taking her hand and trying to sound comforting.
“Yeah maybe I should get some of it off my chest. Here it goes I guess.”
Bianca said, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on my hand. Her eyes still glowed faintly as she told me her story as we ventured deeper into the forest.
I’ll give you the shorter version of it here, mostly cause I’m not sure how she’d feel about me spoiling all her secrets.. She ran away from her family and her college education for a guy, his name was Brooke. Brooke was from money and had a job lined up by his family at a law firm so Bianca thought she was set for life with him. Bianca was madly in love with him at the time but as days grew into months and years, Brooke became a monster. He cheated on her and told her she wasn’t enough, that her shortcomings drove him to do it over and over again and somehow it was all her fault every time. He became abusive not long after the cheating started, flying into fits of hysteric apology afterwards only further convincing Bianca she was somehow at fault. After three years of this she eventually got up the courage to leave and never looked back. On the road she discovered her powers of manipulation, letting her play with people’s emotions and she only got better at it with time. Unfortunately her abilities got her into a very specific form of getting money out of people, prostitution. One day she tried to solicit Stein and he saw straight through her. Stein took her with him to the hotel he and Frank were staying at and they took her in on the spot. The trio traveled together ever since, Bianca becoming a kind of daughter to them.
I was in shock once she finished her story, it sounded like she’d really been through the ringer.“I don’t know what to say, that’s awful, all of it.”
“It was, I lived it. But I made it through, doesn’t matter how at the end of the day. I’ve got Frank and Stein and that’s enough, they let me into their home and I recovered in my own way, I’m still here so I’ll take what I can get right?”
Bianca stated with a cold loom of determination on her face. It was painfully obvious to me that despite the masquerade of being fine she was barley holding it together underneath. Like just talking about it with me was driving a finger into old wounds.
“At least you’ll never have to go through something like that again. With your abilities you never have to get pushed around like that.”
I said with completely no tact whatsoever. Bianca stopped suddenly as I said this and whirled around to face me. The fire I’d seen in her eyes earlier reigniting in seconds.
“Do you really think that’s all this is?! I’m no better than him, even you don’t know what you really think when you look at me! Admit ti!”
Bianca growled at me, hysterical once again.
“No, Bianca I…”
“Look I know your trying to help but just leave it, ok? I’m done talking about this”
She cut me off, pulling herself back together and signaling very clearly we were done with that particular conversation.
“Besides look over there, That hole in the rock see it? That might be what we’re looking for.”
Bianca said, gesturing to the stone wall that now jutted out of the ground beside us.
The rock wall she pointed out was chipped near the middle in a way that couldn’t have been natural. Straight lines don’t really exist in nature and this hole was cut squarely into this rock wall. As we got closer I could see that it wasn’t just an entrance either. The hole opened into the rock wall but then suddenly dropped, like whoever carved it had hit a point where the ground just fell out from under them. From where Bianca and I were looking into the hole we couldn’t quite see the bottom.
“Well we found what we were looking for, is this bringing back any memories from those dreams you had?”
Bianca asked, sounding a little short tempered still as I searched through my bag.
“What are you looking for in there?”
“Rope, I’ve got to see what’s in there and I’m hoping I brought enough to climb down there.”
I replied hurriedly, still tearing apart my bag to get to the rope I had packed underneath everything else.
“Rope? you’re not seriously going to climb down that pit are you? I can barely see down there.”
Bianca complained, sounding exasperated.
“Here, this should help you see down there.”
I said, tossing her one of the two head mounted flashlights I brought along.
“ME? I never said we were going down there!”
Bianca panicked momentarily.
“Look, you can stay up here and wait for me if you really don’t want to go down there. But I would appreciate having you to watch my back.”
I added trying to soften her up. Bianca opened her mouth like she was going to say something but stopped, instead dropping her own pack to the ground and searching through it.
“Look if I’m going down there I’m going to need something better than yoga pants on and…. You actually packed a change of clothes in here. Geez you really did think of everything.”
As Bianca took the jeans I packed and went off to find somewhere to change I finally found the rope. It was about 50 feet of strong climbing rope that I kept for an occasion just like this. Now that’s not to say I was a professional climber by any means but a 20 or 30 foot rappel I should be able to do. I was hoping that the descent wasn’t much further than that. I anchored the rope to a tree a little ways away from the hole in the rock face and tossed the rope down the hole. It hit the bottom with a satisfying thud just as Bianca got back from changing. The jeans I had packed were a little big on her but she’d manage. She looked like a mess in her ancient combat boot and jacket, all of which were too big for her. I tried to open my mouth to tell her she looked nice, I swear I really did but what came out was hyena-like laughter at her appearance.
“I…. Oh god I’m…. It’s just”
I struggled to get out, laughing all the while.
“Well I’m glad you like it at least, ok seriously come on, stop laughing.”
Bianca scolded as she began giggling herself. Soon enough we were both laughing, Bianca’s earlier storminess cleared up by the absurdity of the situation.
Here we were, a succubus and a guy with a strange mark out in the woods getting ready to rappel into a hole in the ground that apparently didn’t exist. All this was almost starting to feel… I’m not really sure how to put it, not normal but not so strange. Honestly I finally felt like I’d found some kind of purpose again out here. As weird as it all was I was starting to enjoy… this, this whole odd situation I’d found myself in. Bianca and I finally got ahold of the laughter and stood back up from our place on the ground.
“Do I really look that bad?”
She asked
“I’ve never heard you complain about your looks before. But no, with those jeans on you look like maybe, just maybe you prepared a little bit for coming out here.”
I teased, getting a little wry grin out of her.
“Come on, lets get going. Hopefully we can be in and out of there pretty quickly.”
I said, handing Bianca her pack and shouldering my own.
Rappelling in wasn’t actually all that hard, really dangerous without safety equipment sure, but neither of us had any trouble descending the maybe 20 foot drop. At the bottom I saw something that shocked me, this place wasn’t abandoned. I saw lighting set up, not on but very clearly set up recently. Bits of old mining equipment were scattered around the… cave? Mine? Im not really sure what to call it anymore. What concerned me more than anything was the light I saw at the far end of the cave (I’m settling on calling it a cave). The light came from a massive bonfire and I could just make out the shadows of several people sitting around it. I have no idea how we didn’t see the smoke on our way in. It wasn’t filling the cave but it also wasn’t coming out from anywhere I saw on the way here.
“Bianca get down!”
I whisper shouted at her, turning off my headlamp and falling flat to the ground myself. Bianca dropped to the ground as she heard me with unexpected grace. I didn’t know if those figures by the fire had seen us but I certainly wasn’t taking chances.
“Ok, I’m going to creep up and see if I can hear them talking or something. Can you just stay here and watch my back? I don’t want you getting any closer than you have to.”
I instructed Bianca who answered with a quick nod and reached into the inner pocket of her jacket. She withdrew a jeweled golden dagger from it.
“I sorry, what’s this now?”
I asked, confused and thrown off guard by the weapon. It was a really beautiful blade, the hilt was silver with several purple gems inlaid in it. The blade was golden save for the razor sharp edge which was some kind of strange blue material that was roughly the same color Blanca’s eyes glowed.
“I had a life before this you know.”
Bianca responded.
“Yeah we talked about it but you didn’t really tell me much about this part apparently. Doesn’t matter I guess just surprised you have Jeff Bezos’s butter knife in your jacket pocket.”
I whispered, pointing at the dagger in her hand.
“Well we can talk more about how I ended up with this later, not really the time now. Just be careful ok.”
I got up as she said this, realizing she was right. Now really wasn’t the time to be asking about strange daggers, I had more pressing issues.
I crouched down and started creeping towards the figures by the bonfire, careful to avoid the rusty machinery bits scattered across the ground. As I got closer I saw a passage I had missed in the dark. I dared to turn my headlamp on for just a second, trying to block out most of the light with my hand. What I saw through the dim light and shadows of my finger left me awestruck. Inside the passage a coliseum had been constructed, with seats carved into the stone. The structure itself was made up of the rusted metal pieces that littered the room, collected and smelted together to form the walls of the structure. What frightened me the most was the symbol clearly and meticulously drawn on the dirt floor, the same symbol that adorned my back, the symbol of the thunderbird. Moving on, more shaken than ever I crept closer still to the roaring bonfire. I could just about make out the words the figures were saying. When I got close enough to make out the word “tests” the fire suddenly went out with a gust of wind.The room temperature must have dropped 10 degrees immediately and I could swear I heard the sounds of heavy rain above us. But the sudden lack of light isn’t what rooted me in place, cowering on the cave floor. What did that was the two illuminated grey eyes that pierced through the darkness like lightning in a storm, eyes I would never forget, the eyes of the woman from Imalone.
This time I clearly heard the voices of the figures from around the bonfire as they all dropped to their knees.
“Shaoni! We weren’t expecting you till later, Stormcaller.”
The figures all said some variation of in unison. Their tone sounding almost as though they were begging for forgiveness. In a voice that hissed like rain on pavement the woman apparently named Shaoni spoke.
“I’ve come to oversee the start of the trials, is everything prepared?”
In one bone chilling moment her eyes locked on mine and she said the one thing I’d hoped she wouldn’t.
“You didn’t tell me we had guests.”
The moment the words left her lips I turned back to where Bianca was waiting, her now glowing eyes cutting through the darkness of the cave. Giving up any form of subtly, I bolted for the rope behind Bianca. I just wanted to be out of this cave, whatever I might learn from searching around was far outweighed by the fact that Shaoni was here. I’d seen the kind of destruction she’d left in her wake in Imalone and I had no desire to see it happen again here. I banged my ankle on several of the little bits of rusty metal on the floor as I ran, sending sparks of pain up my leg. I didn’t hear anything behind me at all which was almost more unnerving than the footsteps I expected to hear. I closed in on Bianca and saw she hadn’t moved at all, her eyes fixed on something behind me. I dared to take a quick glance back over my shoulder and saw Shaoni taking her first step away from the extinguished bonfire. Lightning crackled around her like one of those novelty plasma globes. In the flashes of light I could see her face. There was no smile or frown, no emotion at all. She simply stared straight ahead towards me and took slow calm steps, inching ever closer.
“Bianca we’ve got to go… NOW!”
I shouted, snapping her to attention. She nodded and turned on her heels, back toward the rope we’d thrown in earlier. Only, when we got to the rope and gave it a tug, it came falling back toward us.
“There’s no way. I…I anchored it to that tree, it should’ve held!”
I cried in disbelief. Bianca and I starred up at the now stormy sky through the hole we would’ve escaped from. Two men walked into view on either side of the hole, glowering down at us. I notice a marking on one of the men’s hands in a flash of lightning from the storm. I could only assume if I was able to make it out I would’ve seen a marking just like the one on my back. Just as soon as the men had appeared a shape flew in from the left with a low growl, taking both men along with it.
“Ok, new plan! There’s something else up there and I really don’t want to get involved with… whatever that was either. I didn’t see any footprints near the entrance so I’m assuming those guys we saw by the bonfire got in another way. We’re just going to have to find where that was and get out that way.”
I instructed Bianca, gesturing to the men in toe with Shaoni and trying not to sound as afraid as I was.
“Ok, I’m with you but lets get moving, I don’t want to any closer to her than I have to be.”
Bianca answered, putting her hand on my shoulder. I suddenly felt a wave of calm rush over me and for the second time I was grateful for Bianca’s ability to simply turn off my fear response.
Shaoni now stood about 50 feet from us with four men following behind her. In the light she gave off I could see the men were all dressed like normal people. I kind of figured they would be more of those canvas wrapped weirdos from Imalone but no. There stood four men in jeans and flannels standing there. Shaoni looked like she could’ve stepped right out of a painting of Pocahontas. She wore an animal hide dress with frills along the bottom and arms. Her head was adorned with a leather band containing several hawk feathers. In short she looked like she’d stepped out of a different time. But I had no time to look over the finer details of her clothing as Bianca and I rushed towards her. Once we got within striking distance I pulled Bianca to the left, towards the passage I had seen earlier. Shaoni never made a move towards us, she just simply looked at me, the ghost of a smile briefly crossing her lips. One of the men with her grabbed at Bianca though, pulling her out of my grasp momentarily. That was a mistake because she was on him immediately with the ornate dagger I’d seen before. As the man grabbed her Bianca lashed out with the dagger, sticking him in the gut with the blade. He screamed in anguish and let go of her but Bianca wasn’t done yet. She followed up by stabbing the man in the back of the neck as he bent over, grabbing at the hole in his abdomen. The other three men were so taken aback by the sudden ferocity she displayed that they didn’t come any closer. As time stood still for a second the men all looked toward Shaoni, awaiting instructions but hesitant to get any closer to Bianca. Using the brief moment of disbelief Bianca had caused, we ran down the side passage towards the coliseum.
“What was that?”
I asked, still shocked by how suddenly Bianca had acted.
“He tried to grab me, I don’t like when they try to grab me”
Bianca responded, distant and… scared? I got the sense she was still in shock at what she had done too. But I couldn’t worry about that right now, we still had to get out of here. Luckily the men didn’t seem to be following us. Wether Shaoni called them off or they stopped to care for their friend I didn’t know, and frankly I didn’t care.
Rushing through the rusty coliseum was haunting. I expected something to jump out of every shadow in the imposing structure. As we slowed to a jog in the middle of the coliseum, right where that eagle symbol was, we stopped to look around. We had come into this arena through an open arch but the only other exit I could see was a similar but barred archway. The coliseum was huge for something constructed in a cave, probably 400 feet across. I had no idea how this thing could’ve been made without anybody finding out.
“Bianca are you seeing anyway out of here? Bianca!”
I asked, then shouted as I turned to see her standing still as a statue in the middle of the Eagle symbol. She was staring at the dagger she had stabbed that man with. Blood still stained the blade and dripped from it intermittently.
“Bianca are you alright?”
I questioned as I walked over to her. She still had this look in her eyes, like she was miles away.
“Bianca? Come on talk to me. Look, you did what you had to do back there, sure it wasn’t exactly pretty but it had to be done.”
I tried to comfort her with my words but the truth is, my heart just wasn’t in it. I was a little scared of what I saw from her in those few moments. She just lashed out and attacked him, not that he didn’t deserve it but going back for more was too much. But what would’ve happened if she didn’t act? It’s not something I could really dwell on now and I’m not sure it really mattered. I just wasn’t feeling all that great about the fact we may have killed someone.
“I don’t like it when they grab me.”
Bianca finally repeated, still appearing catatonic. I leaned down to her level, putting my face right in-front of her’s and putting her head in between my hands.
“Bianca I know enough to know that whole situation may have dug up some memories for you but nows really not the time. We have to keep moving, we have to find a way out of here, and I can’t do that without you right now.”
Bianca tensed up as I spoke to her, but I could feel her relax as I finished. A single tear fell from her eye as she gave me a nod and followed behind me as I walked toward the barred off archway.
Before I made it to the archway there was a massive crash as something tore the rusty bars from their mountings and fell into the room.
“Tuck?!”
I exclaimed, recognizing his colossal figure on the floor immediately. His shirt and pants were torn to shreds though, Like he’d flexed too hard and burst out of his clothes. Bianca and I rushed over to check on him but apparently he was fine. Before we even started walking towards him he was already back up on his feet and lumbering towards us.
“Tuck what are you doing here? Actually never mind, are you ok?”
I asked, concern in my voice.
“It’s going to take more than this to stop me son. I figured you might go looking for that old mine I mentioned the other night so I came to find you. I feel real bad about ya run’in off the way ya did and I got to thinking. Maybe I could make it up to ya if I told ya about the mine. So I came out here and found some shady look’in fellas poking around and figured maybe ya needed help, looks like I was right.”
Tuck explained, dusting himself off and brushing away some of the tattered remains of his shirt. I didn’t buy his story for a second but I wasn’t going to argue with this bear of a man.
“So how did you get in anyway?”
“Used the old entrance from back when this place was still run’in, come on I’ll lead ya out.”
Tuck answered, already turning and walking back the way he came.
The walk out was long and none of us talked much so I just looked around. The further we walked down this little tunnel the more I noticed crushed equipment. The walls looked like they were made up of bits and pieces of crumbled rock that may have once been the ceiling of a much bigger tunnel here.
“There was a collapse, just like the report said only, whatever caused it wasn’t any fault of ours. It was that damn thunderbird waking up.”
Tuck piped up, answering one question and making me ask another.
“Wait you knew about her?!”
“All the miners did, some decided to follow her after she woke up and brought the walls down on us. Others wanted revenge for the brothers we lost, I’m one of the former. You see son, the reason I stayed around this town so long was because of that bird. I want a chance to return the favor.”
“But what about Robert? If you hate the thunderbird so much why’d you let him in? You had to see that tattoo on his hand.”
“I know he thinks that damned bird will “save” him or something but I don’t blame him. Everyone deals with things in their own way and it’s not my place to judge folk for it.”
Tuck lectured, as we made our way further down the passage. His words made sense to me but I didn’t understand how he could be so understanding. From what I understood the thunderbird had a part to play in the original mine’s collapse and the death of the workers there. Only for some of the survivors to revere this creature. If I were in Tuck’s shoes I don’t think I could forgive and forget.
Finally we saw light at the end of the tunnel. We emerged into the whispers of what I’m sure was a monster of a storm. But that’s not what drew my attention, what did were the boulders scattered around the hole we just came out of. It looked like they had been moved, and recently. The suspicious red stain just barley peaking out from the bottom of one of them only served to convince me further. Tuck’s story didn’t quite make sense and this entrance seemed like it should’ve been blocked up until very recently. I wasn’t about to question the guy who saved us though, so I let the issue rest.
Bianca’s idea of tracking her phone to find our way to the bikes worked like a charm. We followed the directions my phone spit at us and eventually found our way back to the bikes. Tuck’s old Ford Bronco sat behind our bikes leaving me to question if he followed us on our way here.
“Well do you kids want a ride back to town?”
Tuck asked, his voice bellowing across the forest. Seriously it was like the guy swallowed a loudspeaker at some point and just spoke through it now.
“No we’ll find our own way back.”
“Alrighty then, stay safe son.”
Tuck called back to me as he got into his truck and drove off. Bianca and I stood up our bikes and got ready to head back to town.
“Hey Keith?”
“Yeah what is it Bianca?”
“Next time you offer to bring me along somewhere can you warn me about the damn thunderbird that seems to just show up around you.”
I laughed at this, it was nice to see Bianca joking around again. After what happened in the caves she seemed like someone else, none of her usual cheeriness was there. Not that I knew if that was what she wanted me to see from her or how she actually presented herself but still. I trusted her enough at this point to assume she wasn’t using her abilities to mess with my head.
When we got back to Bianca’s house the sun was just beginning to set, washing the town in shades of purple, orange, and red. We walked the bikes around to their place behind the house and I walked Bianca back to the front door.
“Thanks for today Keith,I don’t… get out very much anymore and it was… nice… to do something other than sit around the house for once. You know, despite everything that happened it was actually fun.”
I was taken aback by her words at first. If it was me I’d immediately want nothing to do with this person who just put me in danger.
“You had fun? The thunderbird showed up again and we may have killed a guy and you had fun?”
I asked, raising and eyebrow suspiciously.
“Can we not talk about that right now? Anyways I don’t exactly have a high bar for what is and isn’t fun at this point. I’ll see you later Keith.”
Bianca said, cracking a smile and walking into her house.
I was about halfway back to my own house when I realized she never gave me my backpack back. Well, looks like I’d be seeing her again then because I need that stuff back. I wasn’t sure what to think about what I’d seen today. If the thunderbird was in those mines years ago why did she end up in Wisconsin? There was also a very real possibility some people in this town worshipped her so I’d have to keep an eye out for that. The really interesting thing to me was the Shaoni never seemed to want to hurt me in the cave today. She was terrifying as all hell sure, but I didn’t get the sense that she wanted to cause me any sort of harm. If she wanted to do that my gut told me she would’ve done it quickly and efficiently.
Thunder suddenly cracked outside, interrupting my train of thought. As I stood up to see what time it was a knock came from the front door. I froze, who exactly could it be? I doubt Bianca would come over, I don’t think she even knows where I live but maybe she came by to drop off the backpack she absconded with? The knock came again, more forcefully this time.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
I shouted, as I jogged to the door. My heart dropped as soon as I opened it, On the other side of the door stood Shaoni. She was dressed normally for once, wearing a long flowing white nightgown. Shaoni stepped into my house as she cooed in her usual misty voice.
“Good evening. Keith was it? We have much to discuss.”

Back in 2016, I was working at a roadside diner west of St. Cloud, Minnesota. Neat little place, had a bit of a 60’s vibe to it, but without the hairdo. On the slow hours of the day, or whenever we just had locals around, I’d be humming along with the chefs playing radio out of the kitchen. It wasn’t an exciting time, but it was nice to have a workplace that felt like a second home.
A couple of weekends a month, we had an all-night crew to serve passing truckers. You usually never had to do more than one shift though, and we got to make own schedules. Our boss was pretty hands-off. It was during one of those shifts, at the first week of early summer, that my life took a turn for the worse – and I didn’t even realize it.

We were used to having the occasional odd customer during those hours of the day. When this guy walked in, I didn’t know what to think. He was about 6’2, bald, and pale as chalk. He wore this worn-out t-shirt that looked like it’d been on fire. With every step, he dragged his feet, and collapsed in one of our booths, seemingly exhausted.
I looked back at the chef, and he just shrugged. Guy wasn’t hurting anyone, but he didn’t look like he was all there. But a job’s a job, so I went up to him.
“You alright there?” I asked.
He looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then sunk his head back down, gently shaking it.
“Nah,” he said. “I, uh… I don’t think I am.”
He had this voice on the knife’s edge between a hysterical laugh and a howling cry. He was trembling.
“You need me to call someone?”
“Call?”
“Yeah, call someone.”
“How?”

I didn’t understand the question. I figured he was coming down from some kind of binge, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I asked the chef to get me a side of bacon to keep the guy calm while I called the police.
As I slid the plate over to him, he sunk his face into his hands, sobbing.
“T-thank you,” he cried. “I-I’m… please…”
I sat down across from him, instinctively reaching out to grab his hand. He let me. Even at a light touch, I could feel the scars on his palm and fingertips. Whatever’d happened to him, it must’ve been awful.
“I can’t go back,” he sniffled. “Don’t make me go back. I can’t. Please, I can’t.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s okay,” I smiled. “You’re safe here.”
“Can you help me?” he asked. “Can you keep him out?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I nodded. “Just eat up. It’s okay.”

His fingers trembled as he tentatively bit off a piece of bacon. His teeth were black, and he flinched.
“I need time,” he said. “I need time to run.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ve called for help.”
“I just… I just need time.”
We just sat there for a while. He calmed his breathing but kept staring out the window. I could tell he was looking for something – or someone. All I could see was a road and a handful of moths. We sat there for some time, in silence, as he carefully nibbled on the slices of maple bacon.
As two police officers entered the diner, he got up from his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of scrunched-up trash. A couple of singles, a plastic card, dirt, and something resembling animal bones. He tried to straighten out the bills, pushing them into my hands along with the laminated card.
“Just… I need time. I’ll come back. Please.”
I didn’t understand. I just nodded and accepted it. Seconds later, the officers asked him to step outside and explain the situation. I got busy taking orders from a couple of passing truckers, watching glimpses of the scene through the window. A couple of minutes later, the strange man was taken away.

My shift ended at sunrise. I dragged myself to my car with a yawn, shuffling around my pockets for the keys. I hadn’t thought much about the items he’d handed me, but I took a closer look. I’d thrown away the animal bones and dirt, but there were a couple of dollar bills and that laminated card left. I checked the card first.
It looked like some kind of bookmark. On one side it was completely white, and on the other side there were dried blue flower petals arranged in a spiral. Kinda reminded me of a sunflower. And finally, there were the dollar bills.
I didn’t pay much attention to these at first. Just a couple of singles. But after a closer look, I noticed something unusual. There was a man on the bill that I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple of google searches to realize that this man was Walter Mondale – the man who’d lost to Ronald Reagan’s second run for president back in ’84. Why was this man on a one-dollar bill?

Before heading to bed, I put the items down on my nightstand. In a moment of silent wonder, I looked out the window. What had that man been looking for? What’d he been running from?
There was nothing out there.
Just a couple of moths.

Waking up the next morning, I had a full day off. I spent it cleaning my apartment, watching movies, having dinner with a couple of friends, and ending the night with a couple of drinks at the pub down on the corner. No binge or anything, just got a bit boozy. I was still gonna be in bed by midnight.
I took the scenic route home; a long walk. All the way down main street, past the lake. I took a shortcut through the park by the final stretch, speeding up a bit. That place was trouble.
As I hurried by the fountain, I spotted someone in the distance. A shrouded figure at the edge of the streetlights. I stopped to observe for a second, but as I did, the lights flickered. Coming back on, the figure was gone.
I chalked it up to imagination. I was a bit drunk, after all. Besides – it was small, like a child. What the hell would a kid be doing out at this hour?

A couple of days passed. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but I kept coming back to that distressing feeling of missing something important. Looking back at it now, I just feel dumb. He was there all along. Outside the supermarket. In the parking lot. Off the highway. Hell, he was outside my window at night sometimes, but just too short for me to spot.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
It wasn’t until one morning when I was driving to work that I got a clear view of him. I was crossing a four-way street, taking a sharp left turn, when I had to throw myself on the breaks. There was a kid in the middle of the street.
I hadn’t seen him that clearly before. He was probably around 6, maybe 7 years old. Wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of light blue canvas pants. Short black hair, dark eyes, and no shoes. That particular detail stuck with me. No shoes? Why?
I almost lost control, but I was lucky. There wasn’t much traffic, and I managed to stop further down the road. There were black lines in the pavement from my screeching tires swerving back and forth. Regaining my composure, I looked in the rear-view mirror.
The kid was gone.

But that was just the start.
I’d spot him every now and then. Looking out the window at work. At the gas station. A passing face in the crowd when shopping for groceries. Every now and then, something would pull on my attention, forcing me to whip my head around, looking for the source of that ill feeling crawling up my spine. Sometimes I saw him. And even worse – sometimes I didn’t.
I remember lying awake at night, hearing moths tap against my window. There was nothing else. Nothing outside. I patrolled my apartment six times, checking every window. I’d looked everywhere, and there was no reason for me to feel the way I did. I was growing paranoid.
And yet, in the morning, my front door was unlocked, and slightly open.

It all came to a head one afternoon when I was out on my smoke break. I’d barely slept for the past three nights, and you could kinda tell I was having a bad day. As I stood there, leaning against the side door of the diner, I see the kid again. This time just across the road, maybe 50 feet or so away. I’d had enough. This had to end.
I was furious. I stormed forward, calling him out with every slur and curse I could think of. I was psyching myself up. I was in the right, and I refused to be harassed anymore – kid or not. Didn’t matter. I crossed the road, barely dodging a speeding jeep, and met him face-to-face.
“What the hell do you want?!” I’d yell. “Why are you following me?!”
He was completely expressionless. He didn’t even flinch, no matter how much I pointed or screamed. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, like a porcelain doll head on a swivel.

I wasn’t thinking about the bystanders though. A couple of middle-aged men stepped up, asking in no kind terms what the hell was wrong with me. I was held back and restrained. Someone called the police. Someone else called my manager – I’d forgotten to take off my apron, so they could see the diner logo. A couple of people filmed it. One of the videos got like 120k views in a day before it fell off the map. I still see it as a react gif sometimes.
It was a disaster. After a couple of officers came by to talk to me, he’d just disappeared into thin air. The officers took me down to the station – not to detain me, but to get me away from the heated crowd. That car ride downtown sobered me up to what the hell was going on. I was being stalked by this kid, but there wasn’t a living soul out there that would believe me.
Well, maybe one.
Maybe.

I was asked a couple of questions and released within about half an hour. They told me to go home and sleep this whole thing off. That wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have a job to go back to anyway, according to the (many) texts I’d gotten. I had all the goddamn time in the world.
I was just about to leave when something came to mind. The two officers who’d picked me up were still waiting by their car when I turned back to them.
“Sorry, you picked up the guy I called in about at the diner, right?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“You got any idea what happened to him?”
The two looked at one another for a moment, shrugged, and turned to me.
“Didn’t have any ID and gave a fake name. I think they took him to psych.”
“Psych?”
“Well, he was saying some, uh… strange things. There were interviews with a, uh…”
The two quieted down and flashed me a smile.
“There’s not that much we can say.”

Coming home, I decided to get to the root of this. It didn’t take me that long to find the place where the guy’d been taken; there aren’t a lot of mental health facilities in this part of the country. Especially facilities that accept involuntary subjects.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the strange dollar bills he’d given me, resting neatly on my nightstand. They were so detailed. A bit old, sure, but that only made them seem more genuine. What the hell was he doing with a handful of clearly fake dollar bills? Like, what’s the purpose? There had to be a purpose.
That unnerved me.

I managed to arrange a meeting. It wasn’t easy, and I think a lot of it boiled down to the police having no idea what could make this guy talk. For some reason, he kept providing them with false information. Maybe a familiar face, for one reason or another, might make him talk.
Just a couple of days later, I was putting my items in a metal bowl on the second floor at a mental health institute in the next town over. I asked one of the nurses if I could keep one of my dollar bills. Apparently, that was okay.
I was shuffled through a couple of locked doors and escorted to an off-white side-room. No décor, no locks. The guy was already there.

He’d been dressed down into these neutral eggshell-white garbs. It was strange seeing him in a lit-up room like this. I didn’t know what to expect.
Getting a closer look at him, he was probably in his 50’s. It’d been hard to tell earlier. I couldn’t get over just how pale he was; it was almost a complete lack of pigment. It looked sickly. His thin arms didn’t help – he looked malnourished. And yet, he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello to you too,” I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“I’m… I’m pretty good,” he nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat down across from him and took out the dollar bill he’d given me.
“I wanted to ask you about this.”
“For the bacon,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, was that not enough?”
“No, it’s…”
I took a moment to compose myself. I had too many questions.

He sighed, took the bill, and looked it over. Looking back at me, I could tell there was something painful stirring in his mind. His smile slowly faded.
“Sorry,” he said. “I try to forget sometimes. It’s easier than making sense of it.”
“Let’s start with something simple,” I nodded. “Like… your name. Where you’re from.”
“Those things are pretty far from simple.”
He was looking straight through me; his eyes sinking back to deeper, more uncomfortable thoughts.

His name was Samuel, and he was born around these parts in back in the 1970’s. He’d worked as a telecommunications specialist out of St. Cloud back in the 90's. He had a wife, three children, and a four-bedroom house.
“But it… that was all before, see?” he explained. “Then it all just…”
“Just what?” I asked. “What happened?”
He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth, looking for the right words to come out. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying again.
“It started with the street preachers,” he said. “Hundreds of them, marching on every city. All saying the same doomsday shit as always. World was dying. All coming to an end.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Then there were storms,” he continued without skipping a beat. “Some would last for weeks. Others longer. Entire cities would be flooded or torn apart. Earthquakes causing monster waves along the east coast, sending shockwaves all the way to mainland Europe. Then, Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Lights out.”

Samuel was painting this apocalyptic vision of a world undone. Catastrophe after catastrophe. Hooded people marching the streets, screaming for the mercy of a mad god. But there was more to it.
“Then things stopped making sense. It’s as if the rules changed,” he continued. “Roads would stop leading home. Trees would change color. People turned twisted and corrupted. Like… one of our neighbors couldn’t eat anything but gunpowder. There was a woman just down the street who tried to kill anyone wearing glasses. It was… pandemonium.”
I didn’t say anything. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, but he was trying his best to keep his rambling coherent.
“The plants died. Trees too. The only thing that could grow in that environment were these twisted blue things that popped up out of nowhere. But people… people are what got twisted the most.”
He told me of these towering 7-foot-tall humanoid creatures that roamed the forests. Black as night – not even reflecting light. Arms reaching all the way to their knees. Elongated, inhuman things that all used to be someone he knew.

“The doomsayers all said the same thing,” he continued. “That God was a scared little boy, and that he was dying. Everything that was happening was just an expression of that ceaseless, bottomless, existential grief.”
Samuel looked back and forth, finally burying his face in his hands.
“It all broke down. Roads stopped leading anywhere. No power. No water. Julie changed. Ollie changed. Tobie made himself a mask and wandered off into the woods. Ira just… disappeared. And for… years? Has it been years? It’s just been me.”
“But you’re here, now,” I said. “And what you’re describing, it… it didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” he insisted. “Just not… here. But here.”
He tapped his finger on the single dollar bill.
“Somewhere, somehow, I must’ve taken a wrong turn. I slipped through something broken, and now I’m here. And… and he’s coming to bring me back. He doesn’t want anyone to leave.”
“Who?”
“Just! Just…” he chuckled. “Just a sad little boy who’s been told he’s going to die.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat with him for a while, holding his hand.

Before I left, Samuel got up from his chair. He looked at me, forcing himself to smile.
“If I go back, I’ll try not to… to be like them. I’ll try. And… and I’ll be the one to say something.”
He let out a painful little laugh, shaking his head.
“Maybe just a… hello.”

I left that day with more questions than answers. I couldn’t picture the world he’d lived through. Then again, how could it be true? None of it had happened. But what was he gaining from lying about it?
That was the last time I saw Samuel. A few days later, he went missing, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing on the cameras – no one entering or leaving the building. No quick escapes, no clever plans. He’d just walked into his room and disappeared. Nothing left but a couple of moths fluttering about.
And for a while, that was it. That was the end of the story. I got busy looking for a new job, and all the little items given to me by Samuel was put away into a little box in my glove compartment. Life soldiered on, and no matter how many questions I had, there was no one around to answer them. Even the strange kid that’d been following me was, seemingly, gone.

A couple of months later, I was driving home from a friend’s place. I stopped at a four-way street, waiting for a couple of trucks to pass, when there was a knock on the passenger side window. I almost choked on my own spit. Scared me half to death.
Looking out, I could see that kid again. I hadn’t seen him for some time, and I quickly bounced between curiosity and downright anger.
“What do you want?” I yelled out.
There was no response. Instead, the door just opened. It’d been locked. As he opened the door, he pointed to the glove box.
“You want his things?” I asked. “Is that it?”
He nodded. I wanted to lash out, but there was something telling me I shouldn’t. Instead, I reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pointed to the box.
“Just take it and leave me alone,” I said. “Get it over with.”

He reached in and grabbed the box. So much effort for a couple of mementos. I turned my head back to face the road. The kid backed out. But of course, I had to get the last word in.
“Not even a thank you, huh?”
That made him pause. He looked at me, tilting his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, a moth fluttered out. Then another. And another.
Then – darkness.

What happened next is hard to describe. My memory of it is fragmented. It’s like trying to watch a buffering video, where long stretches of it are just nothing – but you know something was supposed to happen in-between.
Blink. I was sitting in my car. There was a dark blue sky. No clouds, no stars. Figures in the distance. An open field with blue flowers bending to a howling wind. A powerful stench of ammonia stinging my nostrils. Something to my immediate left, ripping the car door straight off the hinges.
Blink. Running. Ruins of a town. It seemed familiar, but there was barely anything left. My leg was bleeding. I was being followed. No matter where I turned, or where I ran, I seemed to end up at the same intersection.
Blink. A three-story building, brimming with life. Glimpses of arm-long antennae through the broken windows. Clickety-clack of bursting wings tapping against crumbling concrete. A loud warning shriek as something rubs its legs together; a call for prey.
Blink. Hiding in a tipped-over trash container. The rain has stopped in mid-air. Raindrops held in indefinite suspension. I suck water drops out of the air to quench my thirst. My hands are shaking from the blood loss.

Countless little images. Some in order, some not. I have no idea how much time passed. In the moment, it must’ve been much longer than I can remember. Days. Weeks, even. There’s no way to tell.
Blink. Walking through a barren field. It feels like walking through a dead forest, but there are no trees. Only those willingly impaled and wailing.
Blink. An abandoned booth by a broken highway. A sign offers phone calls, in exchange for “real teeth”. There are six sizes of pliers hanging on a wall within. All are bloodied – even the small ones.
Blink. The church that had burned down the night before had reappeared. The people inside, too. They couldn’t leave. Tonight, they would burn again.

Somewhere in this nightmarish puzzle-pieced fragment of nothing, there was a constant drive in me to get away. To get out. I knew that if I’d gotten there, I could get back home again. I just had no idea how. Maybe finding the kid. Asking. Begging. Something.
The last fragment of memory from that space was being cornered in a cellar. They were banging on the door. I’d tipped over a wardrobe to keep them out, but they weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop. I couldn’t let them kill me again – not like that.
One of the Changed ones were coming. I don’t know what that means, or how I know the name, but I knew of it. There was a mirror, and I could see the signs. It stepped out. Seven feet tall, black as night. Elongated arms and neck. Barely a body at all – just a void space vaguely shaped like the remnants of a person.
Except this one felt… familiar. It was the first one to speak.
“H E L L O.”

Blink. Running. A cold hand. If I squeezed too hard, my fingers went straight through it. I had to keep up. He was showing me something.
Blink. They were flooding over the school bus, tipping it by their sheer numbers. Eruptions from the sewer grates. They were famished.
Blink. An open field. Sunflowers facing me, no matter where I turn. It’s not far.
Blink. I look back, as I’m pushed over the edge. He looks just like the rest of them. They aren’t angered by his betrayal.
They feel nothing, as I fall.

In February of 2017, I was found by the side of the road. I’d been gone for months. My car was too. I came back with nothing but the clothes on my back and countless scars. I’ve been told that I didn’t make any sense at first; I was just rambling nonsense. Or maybe it just sounded like nonsense to these people.
Over time, I forgot more and more of these fragmented images. And the less I remember, the more I can move on. Still, I’ve written them down over time, and they paint an ugly, insane picture of what I’d been going through. Some of which I, myself, have a hard time believing. Then again, I know myself well enough to see that there’s no point in lying.

I haven’t seen Samuel, or that strange kid ever since. I think this is all over, for now. There’s nothing left for me to give.
But even now, years later, I still wake up to that feeling at night. That there’s something wrong, or that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something near that I’m looking straight through, or past.
And every now and then, I hear the flutter of a moth’s wing, tapping against my bedroom window.
And I think I know what it wants.
It wants me to go back.

because the boys typically garage it out down there don't you :)
We've come a long way from the army greatcoat and the scarf, the rabbit skins and the flying boots. I did the nullabor in Winter once with a set of bellstaffs and those crappy work boots that sold themselves as bike boots, what was their name...? Rossi that's was it. The ride was ok, I thought it was great at the time, but nothing compared to the gear today. Just those little $15 neck rings you get now are a boon, let alone the Hi-tech linings in the jackets and pants.
Gloves are still a bit hit and miss, I have a pair that make the grade but they are so boofy you wouldn't dare use them near civilization. Boots are another area I haven't found total satisfaction, I have a pair of oversize ones and I use fluffy new Explorer brand sox or the bamboo sox and that works for a couple of hours down to the low single digits. I only ride bikes with full fairings which helps a lot, currently a Gen-II Hayabusa. I wonder why no-one ever though to design a bike that allows warm air off the engine to be channeled up into your chest in winter? Just joking...

Writing is wonderful, isn't it?
I'm Zach. I'm in the information technology sector by trade, but a writer otherwise. I work with interactive fiction, currently delving into two of my latest projects (one based in my high-fantasy universe that's been in development for over ten years!)
Anyways. That's a small tidbit, but I've got something better formatted.
What's my Age?: Twenty-Five (25).
Where am I located?: Columbus, Ohio!
Why'd I make this post?: The truth is simple. I'm looking for friends, people that I can grow with, get to know, and if something further emerges - so be it. Above all, personality is a key cornerstone for me. I can work with differing hobbies, cultures, and lifestyles, as long as you can do the same.
What's my Fatal-Flaw?: I'm loyal to a fault. It's screwed me over a bit in the past, but I've since worked to correct it. Nonetheless, I stick my neck out for those I've grown to care for.
How about some hobbies?: Alright, let's line 'em up!

• Writing. I've adored working with interactive fiction, and have multiple novels in development and in the publishing stages. With a little magic and a bit of luck, I'll be a published name pretty soon.
  
• Gaming. I'm into a variety of genres. These range from strategy to RPG, to MMO, to shooters, and beyond. Co-op tends to be a specialty of mine, though I'm quite flexible.
  
• Game-Development. This binds together with writing - especially interactive fiction. I love crafting interactive universes that others can delve into. Dynamic stories filled with choice and riveting corners down every turn. There are so many options to explore, so many characters to meet, befriend, antagonize, and more!
  
• Walks. I love exploring, and taking random walks throughout areas is a favorite of mine. Especially if there's food around to grab a bite of!
  
• Travel. Similar to above. Traveling is a favorite. I'd love to take a trip throughout Europe eventually, or one that winds through the entirety of the U.S. over a two-week extravaganza. What's your dream destination?
  
• Cheese-Making. This one's pretty new, and I'm still in the studying stages. I'm planning on getting into the craft of making cheese. Working with the cultures, ensuring I can create different types, and taste-testing with others. My goal in the long term is to create an artisan business if I can!
  

What's your career?: Currently, I work in the information technology field as a Support Engineer. I'm still quite passionate about what I do, but my long-term goal is to create a self-sustainable income from my writing endeavors.
Lastly, what are some random fun facts about you?: Lining them up!

• I'm credited in a critically acclaimed video game.
  
• My friends find me weird for adoring cottage cheese.
  
• I'm an avid dog lover who has a pitty-girl that's a rescue!
  
• Lastly, I can spend an entire night talking about anything at random, especially if a friend needs a distraction.
  

Anyways. It's been fun. I'd love to get to know you, so feel free to send me a message! Take care, and have a wonderful afternoon!
~Zach

Writing is wonderful, isn't it?
I'm Zach. I'm in the information technology sector by trade, but a writer otherwise. I work with interactive fiction, currently delving into two of my latest projects (one based in my high-fantasy universe that's been in development for over ten years!)
Anyways. That's a small tidbit, but I've got something better formatted.
What's my Age?: Twenty-Five (25).
Where am I located?: Columbus, Ohio!
Why'd I make this post?: The truth is simple. I'm looking for friends, people that I can grow with, get to know, and if something further emerges - so be it. Above all, personality is a key cornerstone for me. I can work with differing hobbies, cultures, and lifestyles, as long as you can do the same.
What's my Fatal-Flaw?: I'm loyal to a fault. It's screwed me over a bit in the past, but I've since worked to correct it. Nonetheless, I stick my neck out for those I've grown to care for.
How about some hobbies?: Alright, let's line 'em up!

• Writing. I've adored working with interactive fiction, and have multiple novels in development and in the publishing stages. With a little magic and a bit of luck, I'll be a published name pretty soon.
  
• Gaming. I'm into a variety of genres. These range from strategy to RPG, to MMO, to shooters, and beyond. Co-op tends to be a specialty of mine, though I'm quite flexible.
  
• Game-Development. This binds together with writing - especially interactive fiction. I love crafting interactive universes that others can delve into. Dynamic stories filled with choice and riveting corners down every turn. There are so many options to explore, so many characters to meet, befriend, antagonize, and more!
  
• Walks. I love exploring, and taking random walks throughout areas is a favorite of mine. Especially if there's food around to grab a bite of!
  
• Travel. Similar to above. Traveling is a favorite. I'd love to take a trip throughout Europe eventually, or one that winds through the entirety of the U.S. over a two-week extravaganza. What's your dream destination?
  
• Cheese-Making. This one's pretty new, and I'm still in the studying stages. I'm planning on getting into the craft of making cheese. Working with the cultures, ensuring I can create different types, and taste-testing with others. My goal in the long term is to create an artisan business if I can!
  

What's your career?: Currently, I work in the information technology field as a Support Engineer. I'm still quite passionate about what I do, but my long-term goal is to create a self-sustainable income from my writing endeavors.
Lastly, what are some random fun facts about you?: Lining them up!

• I'm credited in a critically acclaimed video game.
  
• My friends find me weird for adoring cottage cheese.
  
• I'm an avid dog lover who has a pitty-girl that's a rescue!
  
• Lastly, I can spend an entire night talking about anything at random, especially if a friend needs a distraction.
  

Anyways. It's been fun. I'd love to get to know you, so feel free to send me a message! Take care, and have a wonderful day!
~Zach