From the beginning...
Cast

Part 2, Chapter 10

The next morning dawns cold and clear. It is plain that autumn is upon the land, and with the Great Glacier just leagues to the north, winter will come soon. The party goes about their morning business, eating (everyone), checking the state of the beard and deciding whether or not to shave it off (Arthur, generally, but also Atticus as Novos doesn’t grow a beard and Zander doesn’t shave his), climbing into armor (pretty much everyone except Dillium, Felicity, and Pocky), feeding and loading horses and asses (pretty much everyone, but particularly Zander, Arthur, Atticus, and Pocky), and finally packing up the pavillionsol (Dillium). Ready for the day’s journey, the group mounts up. On cue, the guide appears, apparently having prepared well ahead. If he’s irritated that the party slept all the way until dawn, he has the good grace to keep that to himself.
Felicity speaks up. “We’ve changed our minds, actually. I don’t think there’s any particular benefit in going to Dragon’s Perch—”
“I agree.”
“—so we’re going to go to Samek instead.”
“Samek? Hmmm. Do they know you are coming? If they don’t, it will take them a while.”
“No, they don’t know we’re coming, that I am aware of.”
The guide nods once and sets out. Much of the day is uneventful, and it does warm up to a comfortable level. By late afternoon, those with tender backsides are wondering when the ride will conclude when the guide raises his hand in a universal gesture of ‘stop and shut up a minute.’ The party still hasn’t learned that gesture, but fortunately there are no giants about [1]. “We’re here,” is all he says.
“Where?” “I don’t see anything.” “What are we supposed to see?” Like tourists on vacation, they peer around in all directions. They can’t see the entrance for the hill. Or rather, the entrance to the gnomish town of Samek is so well hidden in the side of the hill that for a while, only Dillium can see the faint outline of the round doorway. One by one, Flea, Arthur, and Zander finally pick it out. Novos is absolutely certain they are playing a prank on him. Arthur is first. Knocking on the hill seems odd, but practically before he gets a third knock, a small hole opens up around waist height. Two beady little eyes peer out (at Arthur’s belt).
“What!?”
“We are here—”
“So I see.” The window closes.
Zander walks up and knocks. The same window opens, and the same beady little eyes peer out.
“What!?”
“Do you know who I am?” Zander asks.
The beady little eyes look him up and down. “No,” and the window closes.
Dillium tries next. Knock, window, eyes. “Good day. We are here to see—”
“So see.” Window shuts.
Novos walks up. “I know how to do this.” Knock, window, eyes, increasingly aggravated tone. “Let us in.”
“No.”
Felicity has had enough of this. Walking up to the door, she stands for a moment gathering her thoughts. Knock, window, eyes, aggravated tone. “Good day. I’m here on behalf of the Duke of Soravia to see the wise men of your town, or those in charge.”
“Which ones?”
“What?”
“Which ones, the wise men, or those that are in charge?”
“How about if we start with the ones in charge, and perhaps they will decide to allow us to speak with the wise ones.”
The beady little eyes peer out, look around at the party, and appear to give that some thought. “Wait here.” The window closes.
Minutes pass. Tens of minutes pass. Novos gets bored and walks up to the door. He barely gets a third knock in before the window opens. A different set of beady little eyes peers out, and a different aggravated voice says, “What do you want now?”
“We’ve been waiting for a while, and—”
“—And you’ll continue to wait!.” The window slams shut unnecessarily roughly.
“Why you—” Rough arms grab Novos from behind and pull him away before he can do something regretful.
“We’ll wait, as they’ve asked,” Felicity says. She looks around to ask the guide how long they can expect to wait, but he’s disappeared.
The evening passes. As the cold sets in, Atticus and Pocky gather enough light branches for a fire. There’s no benches or logs to sit on, so they squat or sit on the ground. Arthur has taken to pulling off portions of his armor and working on polishing and repairing the scorch marks from the lava snakes [2]. Atticus and Mar debate the relative benefits of following the letter of the law versus being merciful, though in the end, both of them seem to be arguing the same things in violent agreement. Pocky falls asleep against Modred’s side as Beaker plays with a bone left over from… Wait, where did he get that bone anyway?
Finally, the reality that the night is upon them sets in. A proper camp is set, and watches begin. Zander takes the first watch, but sees nothing of interest. He does hear the chirping of grasshoppers, the droning of the cicadas, and the baying of the hounds. Suddenly, the hounds stop. Unnerved, Zander wakes Arthur, who has the next watch. Arthur, Atticus, and Zander take a turn around the camp, but cannot see nor hear anything that sounds like dogs. Arthur agrees to start his watch a few minutes early and Zander takes Pocky inside the pavillionsol to sleep. Arthur’s, and then Dillium’s watches pass uneventfully. Novos, as normal, takes the last watch. As usual, he is so wrapped up with his puzzle box that he notices absolutely nothing.
The cold morning brings breakfast, bickering, and an irritated Novos marching up to the door to bang on it. “We’ve been here all night,” he informs the guard.
“Yes. Yes you have.” The window closes.
Knock. Window. Eyes. “When will we see—”
“When it is time.” The window closes.
Before he can knock again, Dillium grabs his wrist, pushing him back, she squares herself to the door. “When it is time, please inform us.” She says to the closed window.
The window opens and two beady little eyes peer out. A slightly irritated voice replies, “What else would we do?” The window closes.
Several hours pass as the valley warms up. Arthur, Pocky, Atticus, and Mar all work on armor, doing the necessary daily ritual of dusting, oiling, checking rivets to make sure they are still tight and sound. Polish is applied, worked into the metal, and removed. Bickering, some good natured and others not, flows. At midmorning, the guide turns up suddenly, and squats down near the fire. Minutes later, the window opens and familiar eyes peer out. Felicity quickly crosses over to the door.
“Is the council ready for us?” She asks.
“Council? You wanted to speak with those who lead.”
“Yes. I assume that would be your leadership council.” Felicity replies.
“So it is. So it is. There certainly are a lot of you. You can’t all come.” The window closes.
Felicity thinks quickly and makes a motion to Dillium. Knocking gently, she waits for the window to open. “How many of us may come?” She asks sweetly.
“Uhm… “ The window closes. A minute later it re-opens. “Three.” The gnome says.
“Fine. I agree.”
“You agree? I mean, Yes, of course you agree. Come, come!” Suddenly in a hurry, the gnome opens the door, which slides open silently.
As Felicity and Dillium take a step toward the door, the guide steps up behind them. “Where are you going?” Flea asks imperiously.
“The little ones know me.”
“Which ones?”
The guide thinks. “Mayhaps all of them?” With a slight shrug, Felicity accepts that, and they all pass into a dark room, barely tall enough to stand up in.
Dillium is the tallest of the small group, and she has to stoop over to get through the passageway. The guide bends his head down a bit, but Felicity strides forward as if she owns the place, the top of her hair only occasionally brushing the ceiling of the passage. There are guards in dark metal armor in front and behind, but the guard who let them in the door is wearing a much more colorful shirt. As their eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, they note that there are luminescent lichens on the walls, providing a dim light that casts no shadows and fails to illuminate the armored gnomes.
The corridor stretches on for ages. There are branching tunnels to either side, and once, down. Tiny faces can be seen in the dim light as word spreads of the Big’uns. Dillium’s back is screaming by the time they finally reach a room and stop. A door on one side of the room is guarded by two more of the dark-skinned, dark-armored gnomes and a small fire is burning in the middle of the room. The benches around the room are designed for shorter legs and smaller butts, so the guide simply squats down. Dillium sits and starts to work the kinks out of her back. The guards don’t speak, but every once in a while, a face peers in through the open doorway they came in. Some faces are much smaller than others, and a motherly hand frequently grabs the tot and hustles them along.
The trio waits.
***
Pocky and Zander practice sword work as Atticus watches and occasionally tosses out suggestions. Mar naps. Arthur works on removing scorch marks from his armor while Novos plays with his puzzle box and loafs. Something draws Arthur’s attention. As he looks up, he sees eyes staring at him intently peering out from a bush. Without breaking eye contact, he feels around until he grabs Novos’ head and points it at the bush. Novos stares, uncertain what he’s meant to be looking at. “Zander!” Arthur hisses. He points at the bush with too many eyes. Well, two is too many for a bush. Zander looks. He looks some more. Arthur looks away for a moment, and when he looks back, the eyes are gone. Everyone runs over and crowds around the bush. Novos sees what looks like prints—paw prints not unlike Modred’s pawprints, though Modred is being lazy over next to the pavillionsol. Novos looks around, but sees no other paw prints. The men walk around the bush looking for other tracks, but only manage to obscure everything.
***
An hour passes. The guide lounges as if he has nothing on his mind. Dillium meditates, while Felicity tries to work out what the team’s next move should be. Somewhat abruptly, a young gnome opens the door and comes through. “Ready are you?” The darkened room has only a few dim lights. An ancient gnome sits on a three-legged stool in the middle of the room, a small rod in his hand. Eight or nine other gnomes cluster around the small room, some sitting on tiny gnome-sized benches, others standing. Any whispering that might have been going on ceases when the Big’uns come into the chamber.
The eldest speaks. “Warren. Several turnings it has been since last among us you came. Tell. What is the state of the above-realm?”
“They grow bolder. I have seen them throughout the valley, and without fear. If you are to act, you might contemplate doing so soon.” The gnomes chatter amongst themselves in a foreign tongue. The elder lets it go for a few minutes, then he raps on the floor with his rod. Silence returns.
“As I have feared it is. Soon must we act. Well to see you it is. Not so long to visit should you wait.” Turning his attention to Felicity, he inquires, “Please to tell name and purpose for disturbing.”
Felicity tells who she is, and allows Dillium to introduce herself. Flea announces that war is soon to be upon the land. The Duke of Soravia needs friends and allies for the coming conflict, and wishes to include the gnomes. The gnomes chatter nervously, and some of the chatter sounds of anger or fear. Again, the elder waits several minutes and then raps his rod upon the ground.
“Aware of the duke we are, but no call to extend friendship hand we have heard. What does the duke wish of us?” The chatter now is less nervous and more fearful.
“The danger to us all is great, but the duke understands that each should contribute within their talents and means. I suggest that your greatest assistance may lie in logistics, and supply. Perhaps providing some of the greatly admired gnomish craftsmanship would help to raise funds. Any assistance that you willingly provide for the benefit of one and all is exactly enough.” The chatter and babble of the gnomes in the room sounds almost relieved, but still a touch fearful. The elder allows it to go on for several minutes before he raps on the floor once. Saying something in gnomish, he raises his hand. One by one, the gnomes lift their hands out parallel to the floor. It takes a moment or two, but finally all of them agree.
“Determine what we can contribute, we must. If any. As talk we must, a favor for us could you do.” He speaks a few words of gnomish before continuing.
***
“So what is inside that puzzle box you keep playing with?” Arthur asks. He seems more tired of the delay than curious, and is simply passing the time. Mar casts an irritated glance at Novos.
“Dunno. Perhaps a great treasure. Maybe all the misfortune in the world. Probably nothing. Dillium gave it to me months ago.” He continues manhandling it, pushing, prodding, tapping, and so on.
Zander comes over and plops down next to Novos. “Can I have a go?”
“Sure.” Novos hands the box over to Zander, who takes it gingerly in his large rough hands. After a minute or two of working with it to no avail, he hands it over to a beckoning Arthur who seems to have seen something the others missed. He didn’t. Atticus and Mar both have a go before Pocky takes a turn. In three deft moves, the box is opened, revealing an empty space in the middle, roughly large enough for three large silver coins stacked on top of each other. He shrugs as he hands it back to Novos.
With a sigh, Novos starts trying to close the box.
*** “Many generations ago, when but a babe my own great-grandsire’s great-grandsire was, did Callarduran Smoothands of a king tell us. When nigh was the time would he arise. Half of a golden crown he gave us, and a tomb of a great warrior king showed he us. When greatest was our need, take our half of the golden crown to the tomb we are to do, and with the other half reunite it. Drawing close the time is. Our enemies the tomb have discovered we fear. The other half of the crown have they stolen. Taken our birthright, they have. The other half of the crown return to us?” [3]
Dillium recognizes Callarduran Smoothands from a lecture that seemed to last forever, but probably was just before lunchtime. Callarduran is the god of the Svirfneblin, and is held in high regard—perhaps more so than the head of the gnomish pantheon, Garl Glittergold [4].
“Who are these enemies?” Felicity asks.
“Evil ones they are. From us they rob. Our people they kill. Monsters they are.”
An older gnome arrives from the darkness. He is wearing dark armor, and carrying a soft bag made of what appears to be moss. The eldest reaches into the bag and withdraws an arc of gold. It certainly appears to be what you’d expect half a tiara or head band to look like, but it is nearly entirely devoid of ornamentation or decoration. The full crown must be rather plain indeed. Dismissing the trio with a “Think on your words we will,” Felicity, Dillium, Warren (the guide), and Ser Reginald the gnome are escorted from the hall and out of Samek.
Ser Reginald greets them as friends, and chatters through much of the trek up to the surface. He says he is one of a very few remaining ‘royal escorts,’ first named soon after Callarduran Smoothands gave them their half of the crown. They have, over many many many many many many generations (he was unable to count them all), been responsible for guarding the crown and preparing for the arrival of the king. He’s fought the evil ones, and admitted to hunting and killing them in their beds, but would not give a physical description of them. He also admitted that he knew precisely where the tomb was, but had never been inside, “as the time was not yet to hand.”
Finally, they reach the doorway to the outside. With a warning to shield their eyes lest they be struck blind by the sun, Ser Reginald leads the group out to find the rest of the party scrambling to their feet. To the consternation of Ser Reginald, they take the time to break camp, saddle their beasts, and mount up. Ser Reginald wants nothing to do with the horses, so the party creeps along at gnomish walking pace. It is quite possibly the slowest escort quest ever.
Several hours later, the group approaches yet another clearing when they everyone hear a loud rumbling WHOMP! Everyone recognizes it as the sound of rocks falling inside a cave or building. Ahead, a cloud of dust pours out of a cut stone entrance into a hill. “We need to get a move on. The evil ones are already inside!” cries Ser Reginald.
Leaving the horses and asses outside, the party enters the main hall. Arthur asks Atticus to remain with Pocky and the animals, but Mar accompanies the group inside. The moderately sized room has two doorways, though both appear to have been blocked by the recent rock movement. A few minutes of contemplation leads Arthur to believe that one side would take considerable effort to unblock, while the other could be done rather quickly. As he gets to work, the others take in their surroundings. Just inside the door is a carving in an archaic form of common that says “Allies Over Enemies”. Zander notes that there is some indication that there is a test, and one of the mostly broken archways has the word ‘Wit’ carved above it. Felicity notes that according to the archaic writing, there are two tests inside. Dillium is drawn to the faded frescos, though they tend to depict war and destruction.
Soon enough Arthur has the passageway cleared well enough, and the party groups up to go into a large room. The door slides shut smoothly behind them, though there is a door on the far side. Arthur inspects it, “just in case” it is unlocked. It isn’t. The room is more or less devoid of decoration or ornamentation, but there are four columns, one each corner of the room. Novos looks at the column, but fails to note that each side has a letter on it. He does see that he can turn the column one quarter turn, so he does. Once it turns, it refuses to turn again. Members of the party spread out to try to understand the test. Someone notices that there is a small mark on the wall beside each column, but it takes everyone writing down the letters on each column before someone decides to make an effort to coordinate. Arthur suggests that since each column contains an “L”, they should turn the L’s toward the center. Novos points out that he can’t turn the column any further, but Zander turns another column easily. Mar turns another one. As Novos leans up against his column, it turns. The party realizes that the columns can be turned to spell words, and Mar identified the word that was spelled out when they entered. This gets the group going, and with some tactics employed, spell out a word that they hope will open the door. As the last column clicks into place, the door opens smoothly.
The doorway leads to a huge cavern with a five-foot wide natural stone bridge crossing what appears to be a deep, wide chasm. The cavern is pitch black, and while there might be some air movement, the ceiling is too far above and the floor of the chasm too far below to see. The party sets up a marching order with Arthur in the lead and Novos in the rear. Dillium Lights up her staff so that the humans can see and they set out. Ten or fifteen paces across, the party is surprised to come under attack by arrows and javelins. Everyone dodges out of the way of the poorly thrown darts, but one strikes home. No one can see where the javelins came from, or whether it is some sort of trap or if they were thrown. Unfortunately, no one notices that one of the party members has fallen off the stone bridge, either. At the other end of the bridge is a door that opens easily, and everyone makes it into a small foyer. Except for Felicity, who lies at the bottom of the chasm, nearly impaled by a stalagmite. [5] Novos disappears and makes his way to the bottom of the chasm where he finds Felicity and feeds her his last healing potion. Zander pulls out his Wonderous Figurine and activates it. A good-sized wyvern appears on the bridge. He tells it to go down into the chasm and bring back the human. He might have said ‘woman’ but the stone wyvern doesn’t know the difference anyway. It takes off and glides down into the chasm below, and when it finds a human, the wyvern grabs it with his sharp claws and brings it back up to Zander. Novos picks himself up, dusts himself off, and winces at the fresh puncture wounds. Zander, a little annoyed, tells the wyvern to go get the other one, and he does, fresh puncture wounds and all.
Meanwhile, Arthur, Dillium, Mar, and Ser Reginald continue on into a large room. The room is dominated by a huge stone in the middle, with some sort of gemstone embedded in. They also see a dog-like creature standing on the stone, with a piece of golden metal in one hand and a bow in the other. Ser Reginald shouts, “The evil one has the other half of the crown! Get it!” Arthur races forward and Smites the creature.
Mar snarls, “Gnolls. I should have known their stench. She manifests a Spiritual Weapon and attacks with it, then casts a Guiding Bolt. The gnoll, clearly outmatched, fires his bow (missing) and climbs down off the stone. By this time, Novos, Zander, and Felicity have come in (minus the wyvern). Novos speeds over to take a flanking position on the gnoll, but the recent puncture wounds from the wyvern still ache, and he misses entirely.
Around the same time, a larger group of gnolls, armored and armed with swords and axes, enter from the other side and take up positions. One of the larger ones raises his axe to cut down Novos, but one of the gnolls barks out something in a barking sort of bark. All of the gnolls stop and refrain from attacking. Except the one with the huge gash down his front from Arthur. He comes up with a sword and stabs at the air near Arthur. Dillium, likewise shouts for Arthur and Novos (and Mar) to stop.
“Who leads?” asks the female gnoll, as she wraps her shawl around her.
Zander raises his hand. “That would be me. I am the leader of Task Force Chimera.” He sheathes his sword and meets the female gnome in the middle of the room. “I am Zander Roaringhorn, from Cormyr. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
“Raa’ka. Ssand’r. Sand’r.” Her mouth doesn’t quite make all the sounds as she tries to get his name right. She tells Zander that they are here to fulfil a prophecy that tells of an Alpha Gnoll that will arise in their hour of need. Unfortunately, the crown is… not what they expected. Arthur climbs up on the stone and agrees that the gemstone in the middle seems to connect two pieces of a crown—there’s three pieces total, rather than the two that both the gnolls and gnomes thought.
“Give me the crown!” Ser Reginald cries. Mar snarls.
“I will not. Perhaps we should put the crown together, and then figure out what to do. It is obvious neither of us have the whole tale.” Ser Reginald, thoughtful, agrees.
“You put your piece in first, then.” He says.
“No you put yours in.” Raa’ka replies.
Arthur says, “How about you put them in together. At the same time,” clarifies when the gnolls seem unsure. He jumps down from the stone and gives Ser Reginald a boost up. Raa’ka needs no help.
Gently placing the two pieces of the crown in small cutouts in the stone that appear to be made exactly for their pieces. Ser Reginald and Raa’ka watch for a moment. “Now what?” The crown welds itself together before their eyes. The gem in the center pulses, then shines brightly. Then the whole crown sinks down into the stone. “NO!”
The room rumbles and shakes. The giant stone is cracked into pieces as Raa’ka and Ser Reginald leap to safety. As the dust swirls around and the rumbling fades away, all hear a booming voice.
“AT LAST I AM FREE!”

End of part 10.


[1] Unlike last chapter.
[2] in Chapter 8
[3] Modified slightly from Race for the Crown, Adventures of the Potbellied Kobold, by Jeff Stevens Games.
[4] The Gnomish Pantheon
[5] Remember, stalagmite “might” reach the ceiling, and stalactites hang on tite to the ceiling. Or, you can do the boring National Parks Service way of remembering.

Taylor Slimline Kitchen Scale: $10
Personal blender - $7
Acrylic Organizer with Handle: $5
Medium Fridge acrylic organizer tray (not pictured) $5/each
Large freezer acrylic organizer tray/box (not pictured) $7
Wilton Non Stick Brownie/Square pan 9x9 - $5
Large 2-tier Lazy Susan -$5
Ramekins- $1 each

Kyokushin karate, Muay Thai and boxing skills are literally under my belt in terms of experience and I just recently bought my first apartment. Here's my only rule for decorating my two bedroom apartment. One of my bedrooms is reserved for a game room which I want reserved for gaming and anime posters (no arguments with changes there please). But I have a walk in (where I eat my meals) that's currently hanging the great Bruce Lee and I want something there to keep the poster conpany. A kitchen and a bedroom but that bedroom is mainly reserved to be one piece themed but I wouldn't mind something karate or boxing related. Any suggestions?

So I found a kitten in a box by a dumpster a few days ago, so I took him home and got him cleaned up and everything. I’m not sure how old he is, but he does have teeth but his eyes are still that kind of blueish gray color.
I’m planning on taking him to a vet as soon as I can, but in the meantime he follows me around everywhere I go. Is this normal? He’s a super sweet kitten, and I love that he’s so affectionate, I’m just worried that I’m doing something wrong to make him so clingy because I always thought cats were kind of aloof. If I get up and go into another room he’s immediately following behind me, if I leave a room and he can’t find me he cries until he sees me again, if I’m not sitting with him like if I’m cooking in the kitchen he claws his way up my pants leg.
Should I be doing something more to boost his confidence so he’s okay with being alone? Or is this just how a kitten is?

Hi- just came back from Iceland two weeks ago (May 2024). My 19 year old son is ANA to peanuts and treenuts (he carries epis). He does not have an airborne allergy. We had a wonderful time – it’s such an amazing country. Here are some of my comments for you families with nut allergies planning a trip to Iceland. I'm posting this lengthy missive because I couldn't find any firsthand information before we went.

1. Strongly consider full travel insurance. We normally don’t get it, but we did for Iceland as they don’t have that many 24/7 hospitals once you are outside of Reykjavik and we were told the fastest transport might be medical helicopter rather than road ambulance. Basically, we went, knowing that if we had to epi him and then head to a hospital, it might be a helicopter ride, so we took full travel insurance.
2. Wifi reception was fantastic for us everywhere between Reykjavik and Jokulsarlon glacier lagoon (that’s as east as we went). We paid for the Wi-Fi gadget in the car; it was useful because it is a small device and we could bring it in with us to grocery stores to use the google translate app.
3. Here’s some places we ate:

Reykjavik: Icelandic Street Food. Delicious soup in bowls with free refills. They said they had no nuts and everything was made by them. (not sure about their waffles- we didn’t have any). Food was simple and delicious.
Vik : Black Crust Pizzeria. Delicious and friendly!!! While the restaurant did have nuts (as indicated in the menu), we felt comfortable with their cross contamination procedures – as the cashews and pesto were kept separate. I would have come here the next night but we just ended up having grocery store sandwiches.
Fosshotel Glacier Lagoon (about half an hour west of Jokulsarlon) – tons of nuts on the dinner menu at the lovely hotel restaurant so I wasn’t sure my son would be able to eat anything (we did have sandwiches as a backup plan) but the restaurant manager on duty (Jolanta?) and the waiter and the chef were fantastic and very open and honest with what they could or couldn’t do and what my son could or couldn’t eat. For example, instead of mashed potatoes, which they thought might be cross contaminated, they made him roasted potatoes. They told us not to have dessert (which he never does in the US either at restaurants), instead but offered a fruit plate. He ended up having a simple, but delicious, steak and potato meal. They did and said all the right things that made my allergy-brain-mom satisfied, including warning us the meal might take longer than normal since they would be extra careful (which of course, we were fine with). They actually came back twice to explain the substitutions, as they were going along. He didn’t eat at the amazing buffet next day, because buffets are practically never safe, but he had his own cereal and they gave him milk. He is very used to not being able to eat buffets, even at home, so it wasn’t an issue.
Hveragerdi -The food hall at The Greenhouse didn’t work for our needs- so many of the stalls had nuts in open containers. The fish & chip shop there even said they weren’t comfortable serving us (they weren’t being rude at all, just honest, which I appreciated) as they couldn’t prevent cross-contamination. We went across the street to Ölverk Pizza and Brewery and we felt very comfortable with their cross-contamination procedures (a few of their pizzas had nuts). Delicious, and bonus- so was the beer. They were incredibly friendly too.
Gas station/grocery store sandwiches- These were well labeled- they tasted nice- kind of like Pret-a-Manger. Check your allergens at https://somi.is/en/products/ - for example, my son could have the ham and cheese, but not the chicken/bacon/lettuce/tomato. There are several other brands as well, not just SOMI. We did see one container the last day that said “may contain”. [None of the others did say that, but did have items like Wheat, dairy, labeled in bold as an allergen. We felt safe with the sandwiches. And Skyr yogurt was delicious and he could have that (stuck with the vanilla or plain one in general) Gæti innihaldið snefil af sesamfræjum og hnetum = May contain traces of sesame seeds and nuts. We used the Google Translate app in the grocery stores as not everything was in English.
Hot dogs: In Reykjavic and Vik, son also had the famous Icelandic hotdogs as we were told no nuts or nut oil. Very tasty and contains lamb!
We ordered allergy-card pdfs from Allergy Eats in Icelandic. Everyone in Iceland spoke perfect english but we didn't want nuances about nuts to be an issue. They came in handy a few times. I will mention a lot of the staff we met spoke Russian (and also english), not Icelandic. We often used the Google Translate app on our phones.
4) We checked one bag and brought our own cereal from home for our son and tons of safe granola/protein bars from home and baked goods I made as of course none of the bakeries were safe for him. We brought a jar of sun butter and grape jelly in our suitcase. We bought ham and cheese and butter and bread and chips/crisps from the grocery stores to make sandwiches. We didn’t need the sun butter until the end of the trip but I was glad I had it as a backup. We used google translate often as not all the items had English ingredients. We did find a safe simple white bread in all the grocery stores. (Which was a treat for my son as I never buy white bread at home!). I did also bring a box of pasta from home which we used at a (lovely) guesthouse in Hella – Loa’s Nest which had communal kitchen facilities.
5) During our trip, he ate nothing that said “may contain”, to be on the safe side (we also try to avoid that at home, but perhaps not as rigorously).
6) While traditional Icelandic food doesn’t have nuts, I saw more nuts on the menu in Iceland than I am used to seeing. Unfortunately for us, we saw that many, many restaurants and food halls had open containers of nuts on their food prep counters (and therefore no real way to prevent cross contamination). We did not eat those places when we saw that. I should add that most nuts we saw were treenuts, not peanuts, so if you only have a peanut allergy, it will be easier for you I think.
7) Everywhere we stayed either had a mini kitchen, or a mini fridge or access to a fridge (Reykjavic Residence Hotel (2 nights), Loa’s Nest (1 night), Black Beach Suites (2 nights), Fosshotel Glacier Lagoon (1 night), The Greehouse (1 night) We brought a small softsided lunch bag to keep things cool between hotels. One point I should make is that nowhere we stayed had access to a freezer (the mini fridges didn’t have a freezer) and neither did the Airbnbs. I suspect if I had actually needed a freezer, I could have asked the front desk or owners of the guesthouses but we were fine without.
8) We flew Icelandair. They don’t serve items with peanuts on board but they do serve treenuts. They did make an announcement asking people not to eat items with peanuts. They were friendly. They did let us pre-board to wipe down the seats. Our flight was just 5 hours from Boston to Reyjkavik direct so just brought his own sandwiches/snacks. I would fly them again.
We loved Iceland and had an amazing time. None of this is meant to be preventative, just informative.

We have an almost 6 month old puppy, northern breed and shepherd mix. When we first got him I had three weeks off and we worked on crate training. He hates it except at bedtime, he’ll go in fine then whine in the morning to be let out (we don’t let him out until he’s quiet).
We tried baby gating him in the hallway a few days before I went back to work but he climbed the gates.
So when I went back to work we tried to gate him in the living room with our other dog and he climbed it and got stuck in the kitchen. So I put him in the crate for 3 hours. I can normally run back to check on him a few times a day until July. When I came back after the crating he had shredded his bed and howled/cried/screamed for 3 hours.
After that, we decided to just see how he did in the full house. He seemed okay for the first few days. he likes to shred cardboard boxes so we gave him those. So then we added the baby gates to block off the kitchen he still seemed okay but then this week (my second week at work) he started ripping up the couch cover.
We got a camera to see how he did and we just left the house for about 30-45 minutes. When we first left he cried and paced and watched the door. He’d settle a bit but was panting. Then for a bit he seemed like he was calming down but then he got up and started howling again.
Do we think he maybe needs more time to adjust to us being gone? Or what can we do to work on it because we can’t be home with him all day. Will the standard training still work if we leave him alone for 2-3 hours at a time each day anyway?
And no, we don’t have the option for a sitter or doggy day care. The nearest place is an hour away and he’s a very shy dog too, which we’re also working on

When I was ten, I formed a junior detective squad.
Mom bought me the entire box set of What's New Scooby Doo, and I was inspired to start my very own detective gang. I held auditions outside the gymnasium at recess (serious enquiries only) after a number of kids tried to apply for the role of Scooby Doo despite me reiterating I was not interested in playing make believe.
When I was laughed at in class, I made posters strictly asking for SERIOUS wannabe detectives, even going as far as using my Mom’s printer to make flyers, sticking them all over the school.
Auditions were simple. I asked them to solve a simple riddle.
Whoever impressed me got to sign their name down, and I’d get back to them.
I spent three days sifting through kids who definitely had charm, but they lacked the intelligence of a junior detective. Most kids were only auditioning to make fun of me, anyway.
Still, though, I didn't give up.
My flyers had five requirements:
1). You had to be smart.
2). You were not allowed to be a scaredy cat.
3). You had to accept your inevitable death at the hands of our town’s evil villains.
4). You had to have a fully registered driving licence (I quickly changed this to a bike).
5). You cannot have a criminal record.
(I later scribbled this one out, writing over it. *“You cannot have any tardies.”
Narrowing the applicants down to three kids, all of whom failed to share my enthusiasm for solving cases. The kids I picked didn't even know how to make plans, and when I invited them to my house, they stole my Mom’s necklace.
I didn't even need to solve the mystery of who stole Mom’s necklace. The girl was wearing it at school. I punched her in the face, and was immediately sent to the principal’s office. When I was being given the mother all lectures, the door quietly opened, a head peeking through.
It was Ben Callows, a freckly kid with overgrown brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ben really needed a haircut.
He was always wearing the exact same baseball cap, and I found myself wondering if it was permanently glued to his head, stuck on top of unruly brown curls practically matted to his forehead.
In class, Ben was also known as Bloody Ben. In the second grade, the boy had a nosebleed in the middle of a spelling test, bleeding all over his paper.
It's not like he didn't try and detach himself from the name.
Ben brought in Digimon cards, so kids would call him Digimon Ben instead.
Then he “accidentally” spilled yoghurt down his shirt in hopes we would call him Yoghurt Ben. But no. The kids in our class were relentless in reminding him of his name. No matter what he did, he was still Bloody Ben, and when anything related to blood came up in class, fifteen pairs of eyes would swivel to him, like he had invented the concept of bleeding.
I feared the nickname would follow him to junior high.
Ben didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even knock, striding in with his arms folded. Over the years, Bloody Ben, had definitely soured his personality.
He smiled rarely, and when he did smile, someone was falling over or hurting themselves.
Which definitely strengthened the claims of him being a sociopath.
The rumor mill was churning, with the latest claiming Bloody Ben killed his cat. That wasn't true. Ben’s cat was seventeen with cancer, and that was why he was sobbing all the way through reading time.
According to Ellie Daly, however, Ben had killed and dissected his kitty, and buried her in his Mom’s flowers.
Now, my principal did not like being interrupted, especially when she was in the middle of screaming at me.
Principal Marrow was old old (like, thirty, in my ten year old mind) stick thin like a pencil, and always wore the same stained sweater.
She used to be pretty, but I was convinced she had kissed a frog and been cursed. After our old principal suffered a stroke, she stepped in as a temporary replacement, and since becoming principal, had banned my favorite book series, colored shoe laces, and hamburger helper, even officiating a uniform.
(vomit green shorts and a tee, and plain white sneakers).
Kids were convinced she was a witch, and I kind of believed it.
Principal Marrow’s whole existence was built on sucking the fun out of school.
I was already reprimanded for my mystery gang flyers.
Her office smelled of peppermint and she was definitely sneaking sips of whisky in her coffee cup. I could see the bottle sticking out of the trash.
She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest, squinty eyes narrowing at the boy. I had spent the whole time she was lecturing me trying not to cry, my fists bunched in my lap.
I took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to swipe at my eyes, allowing myself to breathe.
Ben Callows was her victim now.
I was right. The woman's voice was like a thunderclap in my ears.
“You better have a good reason for not knocking, young man.”
Ben wasn't fazed by her tone. “You took my Switch two weeks ago,” he said, “I want it back, or I’m telling my Mom.”
At first, I thought I'd misheard him.
No, I was pretty sure he'd threatened our principal.
I swore I heard all of the breath sucked from the room.
“I'm sorry,” Principal Marrow cleared her throat. Her soft tone was dangerous.
She wasn't being nice. The lady was about to explode.
I could see visible veins straining in her temples, her right eye twitching.
It was straight out of a cartoon.
“Did you forget something, Ben?”
Ben sighed, like she was inconveniencing him.
He held out his hand. “Please can I have my Switch back? It counts as stolen property. Give it back, or I'm telling my Mom.”
The kid put so much emphasis on the word please, I couldn't resist a smile.
I think our principal was too shocked to get angry.
“Get out.” She said, firmly. “I don't have your gaming device.”
“It's in your drawer.” Ben nodded to her desk, “Under your divorce papers and the restraining order ordered by Jake Willow, the seventeen year old boy you've been having math ‘tutoring sessions’ with.” He quoted the air, his gaze lazily rolling to me. “Tutoring”
Principal Marrow went deathly pale, her eyes darkening.
“Benjamin Callows–”
“The school already knows about the restraining order, but your uncle is the head of the Board of Education, so all you get is a slap on the wrist and a warning to leave the boy alone."
Ben continued, and I found myself mesmerised by his words. He was a natural, his expression stoic, mouth curved with satisfaction that wasn't quite a smile. “However.” He held up his phone, pulling it away at the exact moment the teacher attempted to grab it. “You were outside Jake Willow’s house at 6:12am, drunk, and trying to climb through his window, which, I think violates the restraining order, does it not?”
Ben pretended to think real hard, his gaze flicking to the ceiling.
“I mean, I'm just a kid, right?” His mouth curled into the hint of a smirk
“What do I know, huh?”
Principal Marrow’s expression twisted, her lip wobbling.
“Mr Callows, remove yourself from my office, or I am calling your father.”
Leaning comfortably against the door, Ben’s lip twitched.
“Why? Are you planning on telling my Dad about your relations with a teenage boy, or will I have to tell him instead?”
I was enthralled, and fully disgusted, making a move to inch away from the woman.
“But it doesn't end there.” Ben continued. He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards the woman's desk. “You don't even want Jake, do you? Because, once upon a time, you were in love with his father. Jason Willow. You despised him for rejecting you, so you decided to defile his son.” Ben leaned over the principal’s desk, slipping his hand into the drawer, and pulling out his switch.
Painfully slowly.
She stood there, speechless, her shoulders trembling.
Ben smiled, and I found myself liking it.
“Thank you!” He said, waving the console in her face. Ben mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“My lips are sealed.”
Ben’s half lidded eyes found mine. “Are ya coming, Panda?”
I forgot my own nickname.
Panda.
I wore my Mom’s eyeliner because I thought it looked cool.
It did not.
Finding my breath, I snapped out of it.
Jumping up, I followed him out of the office, and when the two of us were safely on the hallway, I burst into hysterical giggles. “How did you know all of that?!” I whisper- shrieked.
Ben surprised me with a splutter. “Wait. You believed me?”
Something very cold trickled down my spine.
I stopped walking. “You lied?”
He shrugged. “I had a dig around her office before she caught me a few days ago,” Ben swung his arms, a smile curling on his mouth. “There's no restraining order, but there is prescription anti-psychosis medicine, and an extremely detailed story on her laptop about a teachestudent romance, which I presume is a self insert.”
Ben shot me a sickly grin. “The school refused to make her condition public.”
He prodded at his own cotton shirt embroidered with the school emblem.
“Why do you think she's made all these dumb rules? The woman is a certified Looney Tune.”
I nodded slowly. “Wait. What about Jake and his dad?”
“I made them up.”
I choked out a laugh. “And… the video?”
Ben walked faster, pulling out his phone and shoving it in my face. The video was real. Principal Marrow was walking around in circles, draped in her nightgown. “It's her own house,” he explained. “She locked herself out.”
Nodding slowly, I was in awe. Bloody Ben was kind of fucking amazing.
“But the restraining order isn't real.”
Ben raised a brow, coming to an abrupt halt. It was his smile that cemented his place in my gang. His lack of empathy for a woman he had gaslit into being a disgusting human being. Ben Callows wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but he fascinated me. Maybe for the wrong reasons. “Her filing cabinets are filled with tinned cat food, Panda,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not psychic, but I thiiiiink we’ll be okay.”
I turned to him, unable to stop myself jumping up and down with excitement.
“Will you be my first?!”
Ben inclined his head. “Will I be your what?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, will you join my mystery gang?”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and I shoved him playfully.
“To solve real cases,” I corrected myself. “Not make them up.”
Ben wore a real, proper smile. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness that was so hollow and polluted and wrong, I pretended not to see it for the sake of his smarts and intellect. “Well, if you insist, sure!” Ben held out his hand, and I shook it. I'll be your first.”
We found our second member, who was, ironically, looking for her glasses under the table in class. Lucy Prescott, the quiet girl, was born to be with us.
The class eraser went missing, and she found it in the blink of an eye.
When questioned, Lucy’s face turned as red as her hair. “I asked everyone in the class and followed the clues to the last person who had it,” she pointed to Chase Simpson. “Which was Chase, who was throwing it at Marcus Calvin.”
Twisting around in my chair, I aimed to get Ben’s attention. But he was already looking at me, chin resting on his fist, eyes ignited with excitement.
The two of us cornered Lucy after class, and when she motioned for us to get back, I dragged Ben (who was a little too excited) to my side.
Lucy looked mildly horrified when I said, dangerous cases, though her expression pricked with intrigue.
She agreed, her gaze lingering on Ben, cheeks smouldering.
Our last two members were a surprise.
Violet Evergreen was what you would call popular on the middle school hierarchy. Not just because her mother was the mayor, but because Violet could get away with murder. The girl refused to wear the school uniform, coloring a single purple streak in her hair to cement herself as the it girl.
She was also one of the girls who started the Bloody Ben rumor.
Ben, Lucy, and I were sitting on the grass during recess, trying to come up with a name for our detective service, when Violet came storming over, hands planted on her hips. She was copying how her mother held herself during town meetings.
“What are you doing?” Violet demanded.
Lucy opened her mouth to answer, Ben nudging her to shut up.
“Making a mystery gang.” I told her. “Why?”
Violet inclined her head. “Oh.” She folded her arms. “Well, can I join?”
Ben stood up, stepping in front of the girl. Violet didn't move, stubbornly standing her ground. “Sure.” Ben flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his smile widening. “If you can pass the test.”
Violet’s lip curled. She took a single step back. “What kind of test?”
Ben nodded to me. “Meet us at the swimming pool at 8pm.”
To my surprise, Violet nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope!”
8pm. The four of us met outside the local swimming pool.
Violet was already on the other side of the fence, waving.
“Hey guys!”
I noticed Ben’s expression, his eyes darkening, lip curling.
Still though, he maintained positivity, vaulting over the fence.
“You made it!”
I followed him, helping Lucy, who was immediately freaking out. I didn't blame her. The pool looked cold and dark, a hollow oblivion carved into the ground.
Ben and Violet stood on the edge, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.
Violet Evergreen was braver than I thought.
Standing with her arms at her sides, Violet's hands clenched into fists.
“What's the test?” Violet said, her gaze glued to bleeding black depths.
“I don't know,” Ben murmured, his voice teetering on a giggle. He leaned forwards, arms spread out. “I didn't think you'd actually come meet us.”
Violet hummed, stretching out her leg, teasing it across the surface. “Was that the test?”
The boy leaned back. I caught the glint of a grin under the floodlights. “Nah.”
Before I knew what was happening, he shoved Violet into the pool. The girl didn't scream or shriek, she just hit the surface, sinking into pitch dark nothing.
“Sink or swim,” Ben said in a low murmur, when Violet’s head bobbed under water. I could see her shadow under the surface, imagining the freezing cold depths pulling her down.
“Drown, and you can't join us.”
It was so quiet, suddenly. The three of us staring into rippling water.
A minute passed, and my tummy started to twist.
“Fuck.” Ben’s expression stayed stoic. I wasn't expecting him to say a bad word.
He cocked his head. “I thought she could swim.”
I hit him, holding in a cry. “You need to get our parents!”
But he didn't listen to me, taking a single step, and dropping into the pool.
I fell to my knees, scanning the water.
Lucy was crying. “Are they dead?!” she shrieked.
“Shhh!” I was watching two shadows lingering under the water.
Violet broke through. I expected her to be crying, but her expression was unwavering. She was silent. I thought the splashing underneath her was her legs trying and struggling to tread water, before Lucy shoved me. Hard.
“Panda! What do we do?!”
Looking closer, Violet was perfectly still, her gaze on the sky.
While she shoved Ben under the water, drowning him.
Violet’s eyes sparkled, and somehow, I knew she belonged in my gang.
Her gaze found mine, glinting with that darkness, that poisonous streak I found myself drawn to. It was a starving, insatiable need to understand a fractured mind. Know your enemy.
“Do you want to see if Ben’s a witch?” Violet asked me, her tone something else entirely. This girl did not make sense, using barely her finger to drown Ben Callows. I knew she was wrong.
I knew there was something loose, something unlocked and unbridled and drowning inside her mind and heart.
But I wanted more of her. I wanted Violet Evergreen in my detective gang.
I think that is why I stood there, frozen.
When the thrashing stopped, Ben broke through.
He wasn't coughing or spluttering, his head inclined. “You didn't drown.”
Violet climbed out of the pool, offering her hand. “And you're not a witch.”
He declined her hand, taking the steps instead.
I asked Violet in a shaky voice. I was trembling with terror, but I was excited.
Exhilarated.
“Violet, will you join my gang?”
She didn't answer me until we were sharing hot cocoa in my house.
I told Mom we fell in the pool, and she believed me. I should have told her that my friends were sociopaths, and I was kind of maybe in love. Violet sipped her cocoa, nodding with a smile I didn't recognise. Violet never smiled at school.
Well, she did. But it was always the prick of a cruel smirk.
I don't think her smile was genuine, but she was definitely enjoying herself.
Our last member came to us, instead of finding him.
Jules Howell, a straggly brunette pushed his way in front of me in the lunch line. I didn't really know the kid.
He sat at the back of the classroom and slept through most of class. I did like his accent though.
Jules had moved from Melbourne in the second grade. He didn't talk much.
When he did, I found myself enveloped in his voice, which sounded like water to me, a bleeding cadence to his tone.
Jules piled his plate with fries, smiling widely at the lunch ladies.
“I saw you last night.” He murmured through that perfectly moulded grin.
“Saw me where?”
“At the pool,” Jules said. “You, Bloody Ben, Violet Evergreen, and that Lucy girl. You were doing a suiciding pact.”
“That's not what we were doing.” I said, “What's a suiciding pact?”
“When you kill yourself together.” Jules said. “I saw it in a scary movie my Mom was watching.”
I grabbed a fork. “We weren't doing that.”
His eyes were strange when I took the time to notice them. The excited gleam had fizzled out. Jules’s hands tightened around his tray. “Then what were you doing?”
I didn't reply, making my way over to our usual table. Ben was already waving me over, Violet and Lucy holding up the flyers we were making.
THE REDBLOOD DETECTIVES.”
Do YOU need our help? We can find/solve anything! Contact us on the number below. (We take donations!)
When I bothered turning around, Jules was lost in the crowd of kids.
We were on our first official case, searching for Mrs Lake’s missing mail, when Jules appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And with him, a golden retriever puppy he introduced as Arlo.
It took a dog jumping up at them for Violet and Ben to find their real smiles, their real selves slowly seeping through these facades they had built around themselves. Ben dropped to a crouch, ruffling the dog's ears, his smile faint.
“Who's a good boy?” He chuckled.
Arlo didn't move, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Ben motioned the dog towards him, but Arlo stayed put.
Jules joined us…quietly.
I don't remember asking him, or even him asking me.
He just became part of us, side by side with Arlo.
We soon came to quickly realize that our town was boring.
There were no monsters or thieves, or soul sucking demons. No criminals or serial killers. Not even one missing person. We did, however, get calls about missing cats. I turned eleven years old, patiently waiting for a murder or a kid going missing. But there was nothing.
All we did was chase cats, and the occasional dog. Maybe a budgie if we were lucky. Twelve years old, our detective club became a joke.
The five of us (and Arlo hiding under the table) were trying to pinpoint Mrs Tracy's lost hamster, when three girls came over, dumping their soda all over us.
We watched crime shows for inspiration on catching killers.
Ben’s favorite crime was one that happened in the 80’s in our town.
2 girls murdered.
Their intestines stuffed into envelopes and mailed to family members.
“That's what we should be solving,” he told me one night, “Not missing cats.”
Thirteen years old, we lay in Violet’s backyard under the cruel glare of the summer sun. We called it working and didn't like to admit it was hanging out, or that we were even friends. However.
That didn't stop us growing closer.
Even if it wasn't quite the way I’d expected.
I proposed a plan, standing up, wobbling a little off balance.
“I've got it.” I said, my voice kinda slurry from Violet’s special summer cocktail, which was just random alcoholic beverages we found, thrown into a blender, and diluted with water.
The town wasn't taking us seriously.
So, we were going to make our own mysteries.
I ordered a full-scale assault on our small town. One that they could not ignore. Ben stamped on Mrs Mason’s flowers, and Lucy threw mud pies at people's cars. Jules trashed the high school gym, and Violet and I spray painted threats and warnings on every store window. Now, this did cause panic, but also an official curfew.
Thirty minutes before curfew, we met in our usual spot, deep in the forest near the lake. Ben yelled at me when I was three minutes late. He was real passionate about finding a real mystery.
“You're late.” Ben was sitting on a rock waving a stick in Arlo’s face.
The dog still wasn't going near him, whining softly.
I took my place, muttering an apology. “I had to lie to my Mom.”
Violet, sitting with her legs crossed, idly digging her manicure into the dirt, suggested we buy mannequins and masquerade them as dead bodies, hanging them from the school rafters.
Lucy, who had slowly grown out of her shell, becoming a lot more outspoken, nudged her. “That's a stupid idea.”
The girl groaned, leaning into her. “Urgh. You're right.”
Jules was the only energetic one, standing on the tireswing.
He jumped down, definitely twisting his ankle.
But his smile only widened, kind of like he enjoyed being in pain.
“Why don't we pretend to be kidnapped?” He said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over blondish curls growing out. Jules did a dramatic spin, his eyes shining. “We can ‘go missing’ for like a week, and then when our parents are really scared, we can turn up, and tell them we escaped a kidnapping.” His lips split into a grin.
“And then we solve our own kidnapping!”
Ben awkwardly patted Arlos head, only for the dog to pull away with a snort.
“I like it,” he murmured. “I'm in.”
Jules’s idea was stupid.
But.
It was worth a shot.
The five of us agreed to meet the morning after with enough food and supplies for a week. Then we were going to hike to the next town, and hide out for a week. It was an almost perfect plan, using ourselves as victims of our own mystery.
Packing as much as I could, I kissed my mother goodbye (I told her my pack was for a picnic) and set off to the rendezvous we agreed on.
When I arrived, I was the first one there. I checked and re-checked my pack.
I waited ten minutes, unable to contain my excitement.
Then 20 minutes.
It was getting kind of cold.
One hour.
I sat on a rock for enough time to watch the sky change color.
When the clouds were orange, I stood up and stumbled back home. They had gone without me. Mom lectured me when I got home, and I stuck to the plan of pretending my friends had gone missing, even if I they had betrayed me.
Ben said he'd text me when he arrived at the redervous. I at least expected him to text an explanation, but there was nothing. I was in the dark, and after three days of nothing, our town finally began to take us seriously.
“Our children have been kidnapped!” The adults were screaming.
Mom was crying in the kitchen, praying to a god I knew she didn't believe in that I wasn't taken next. I was interviewed and stuck with the exact same story I came up with when I was with the others. Our plan was to return after a week, claiming to be locked up in a dark room with a masked man.
I told my Mother and the other parents that I didn't know where my friends were, repeating the same thing over and over again until I was tongue tied.
“I saw them the day before they went missing, and… yes, everything seemed okay.” I slowly sipped my glass of milk provided, looking the sheriff directly in the eyes.
“No, I didn't notice anything suspicious, sheriff. Yes, I'm sure, sir. No, they didn't tell me anything.”
It was Ben’s mother who shattered my mask.
“Did I know about… what?” I whispered.
Something warm filled the back of my mouth, foul tasting milk erupting up my throat. I leaned forward, trying to look Mrs Callows in the eye. “No, I… I didn't know about Ben’s…condition.”
Mrs Callows was screaming at me about her son’s troubled past when I barfed all over myself, my eyes burning.
In the privacy of my own room, I sobbed until I couldn't breathe.
I tried to tell Mom, but we had come so close.
One more day, and the others would be back.
But that day came. I sat cross legged at our usual spot, which was now covered in police tape. I waited for their thudding footsteps, their laughter congratulating each other for coming up with a great plan. I waited, my face buried in my knees, for my friends.
It was dark when my phone vibrated, and I'd fallen asleep.
I wasn't scared, forcing myself to my feet.
“Where are you?” Mom yelled down the phone.
“Coming home now.” I muttered.
“Sorry.” I paused, holding my breath against a cry. “Mom.” I broke down, forcing my fist into my mouth to hide my squeak. “Mommy, did they come back?”
Mom didn't reply for a moment.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” She whispered, ending the call.
I took my time walking home that night.
There were no stars in the sky.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I could smell him.
When he dragged me back, stabbing a kitchen knife into my throat, I stared at the sky and looked for stars. His arms were warm around me, violently pulling me into the back of a pickup truck. The pickup truck he'd said he was bringing.
It was his grandfather's, and he could just about drive it.
Hitting the backseat, my body was numb, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
The pickup flew forwards, and I remembered how to move.
I rolled off the seat, my hands pinned behind my back.
Twisting around, blinking in the dim, I could feel something warm, something seeping across upholstery seats. Blood.
It was everywhere, sticky on my hands and wet on my face when I struggled to get up. I was lying in someone's blood.
A scream clawed its way out of my throat.
The pickup flew over a pothole, and something dropped off the seat.
Arlo’s leash.
I screamed again, this time his name gritted between my teeth.
I didn't stop screaming until the jerking movement stopped. The doors opened, pale light hitting me in the face.
Flashlight. Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the car, and then, pulling me by my hair, into our old tree house. It was always our secret place, our saving grace on the edge of town.
The flickering candlelight caught me off guard, illuminating my surroundings.
Two bodies slumped over each other, lying in stemming red.
I felt suffocated, like I was going to die. I screamed, and that warm hand cradled my mouth again, gagging my cries.
Violet and Jules.
There was something wrong with them. And it was only when I forced myself to look closer, when I realized their insides had been carved out, heart, stomach, everything, pulled out.
There was paper on the floor.
No, not paper. Envelopes.
Envelopes stuffed with gore, bright red leaking through white.
Shuffling back, my brain was too slow to react, while my body was trying to vault to my feet, only to be violently pulled back by my ponytail.
I felt his fingers twining around my hair, revelling in my screams.
With another tug, my head was forced forwards.
Orange candlelight felt almost homely, this time lighting up a third body.
Lying on their back, curled up, pooling scarlet dried into the floorboards, their wrists restricted with duct-tape.
I could feel blood underneath me, sticky, a congealing paste.
“Do you know what happened on October 3rd, 1987, in our town?”
Lucy Prescott stood over me, her arms folded across her chest.
I managed to shake my head, when she grabbed Ben’s legs, dragging him under the candlelight. I dazedly watched her stroke the blade of a carving knife, the teeth already stained scarlet. “The intestine murders.” Lucy hummed, tracing the knife down the floorboards.
“A man murdered two high school girls, carving out their insides and sending their pieces to their loved ones.”
Lucy's eyes found mine, ignited in a familiar gleam. I saw it in Principal Marrow’s office. Then the swimming pool. The cafeteria. “It was the sheriff's only murder case, Panda. Ever since then, our town has been boring. There's no mysteries to solve. Nothing to find.”
The girl jumped to her feet, retrieving a blood stained envelope.
She held it up, a smile curved on her lips. The girl turned around, and I heard a horrific squelching sound. Lucy held up a bright red sausage, ripped into it, and slipped it into the white paper.
“But I can change that.” she said, in a giggle.
“I can create a real serial killer, who we can hunt down together.”
Lucy stabbed the blade into the floor, laughing.
“Or! I can bring a fan-favorite back! I can bring the intestine killer back from the dead!”
Her gaze flicked to the others. “There are casualties, of course. The story is, I was kidnapped with Ben, Violet, and Jules. The scary intestine killer killed them, and I managed to get away.”
Lucy shuffled over to me, her eyes wide. “Then! He came back and struck again!”
With those words, she shoved me onto my back.
“First he took Violet,” Lucy hummed, tracing the blade down my shirt.
“Then… Jules.” I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at the restraints around my wrists. “Then Ben.” her breath tickled my cheek. “And finally… Panda.”
Lucy lifted the knife, and I accepted my death.
Until a low rumble in my ears.
Shouting.
Thundering footsteps, followed by the pitter-patter of paws.
“Lucy!” The sheriff was screaming, and the girl stumbled to her feet, the knife slipping from her fingers. Lucy stumbled, tripping over Ben’s body.
“He got away!” she shrieked. “He…he killed them! Oh, god, please help me!”
I don't think Lucy even realised the traces she'd left behind.
The blood slick on her fingers, her manic, grinning smile full of mania.
I was looking for stars when an officer crouched over me.
I couldn't understand what she was saying.
Her voice was white noise.
“Rachel? Hey, try and sit up, honey. You Mom is on her way.”
Instead of listening to her, I curled into myself.
My gaze found Arlo sticking his nose in Ben’s hair, trying to nudge the boy awake.
I didn't fully register the next few days.
They went by in a confusing blur.
Part of me tried to eat, and spent hours with my head pressed against the toilet seat.
I could still see the slithering, scarlet remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. There was so much red, soaked in that hunting orange light.
Blood that I could still see, a starless sky that stretched on forever.
Weeks went by.
Then months.
I think I turned 14. I wasn't sure. I didn't feel alive anymore.
I stood at my friend’s funerals with a single rose I dropped into their casket.
Violet’s mother was quick to cover the whole thing up.
Lucy's plan didn't work after all.
Our town’s murder cases stayed stagnant at one.
It's been four years since my friends were murdered by our ’Velma’.
Now, at seventeen, Mom asked if I wanted to visit Lucy in juvie.
I'm not even upset or angry anymore.
I want to know why.
Ben picked me up. Arlo was at his side, wagging his tail.
Ben was…different. He'd dumped his baseball cap and gotten a haircut, swapping his old wardrobe of drab colors for an attempt at changing style.
That day, he looked awkward in a short sleeved tee and shorts.
At school, Ben is no longer Bloody Ben.
Now, he is Survivor Ben.
I’m still Panda.
Every time I was with him, I felt like my soul was being sucked out.
Guilt so deep, so fucking painful, I lost my breath.
I live knowing that I immediately assumed it was him that day.
Ben was barely alive when I found him. Lucy had started to carve into him before remembering she needed me.
After admitting it to him, his lips formed a small smile.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He said to me, at sixteen.
"Yeah?"
Whatever he was going to say, Ben never told me.
Presently, I nodded at the dog’s new collar.
“Peppa Pig themed?”
The boy shrugged, ruffling Arlo’s ears. “FYI, he chose it.”
“It's cute.” I said. “Very… chic.”
We didn't speak the whole ride, but Ben did entangle his hand in mine.
We spent half an hour outside the detention centre. I was panicking, and Ben was trying to hide that he was panicking. In the end, we joined hands, and strode through the doors together.
Lucy greeted us with a wide smile. Just as psychotic.
The orange jumpsuit suited her, though I had zero idea why.
“Hey Arlo!” she giggled at the dog, and Ben pulled the pup onto his lap.
“Ben.” She sighed. “I wish I got to finish you. I would have loved to solve the mystery of your gutted corpse.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind a glass screen, I asked Lucy one simple question.
“Why?”
Lucy didn't reply. Or she did, but it was just nonsensical bullshit.
But there was one thing she said has stuck with me, chilling me to the core.
I am fucking terrified of Lucy. Of what's she's done, and what she's capable of doing.
It was a throwaway line, and I don't even think Ben noticed.
Or he did, and was in denial.
Lucy's smile was wide, her eyes empty pools of nothing.
The exact same glint in Ben’s eyes.
Jules’s eyes.
Violet’s eyes.
Like something was gnawing away at their psyche, twisting and contorting it, filling them with darkness, poison, that was so vast, so endless, I had craved it as a child. I still don't know what it is.
But I'm going to find it.
Lucy's laugh was shrill, and next to me, Ben didn't move a muscle.
But he did smile.
Yes, my gang were psychos.
But I kind of maybe loved it.
“I don't even wear glasses!”