I hate my house. I hate everything about it. It’s always too clean, and there just seems to be something off about it. Although, I can’t ever find anything tangible that is wrong with it except for the fact that it’s dark. There is never enough light to illuminate things I need to see. I somehow always find myself squinting when I read, and turning on more lamps as the day goes on. I am well aware that I have many more light sources than the average person, but I need them. There is never enough light.
I realized this about my house after the first week of moving in. The first week was filled with the excitement of independence, however once the high wore off, the darkness settled in. It has honestly just made me uncomfortable. I feel like the house has something to hide.
I came back from work one evening and started my ritual of turning on just about every light there was in this goddamn place. It took me a couple of minutes to thoroughly go through every light source and click each one on. It made my house slightly more bearable, but still it wasn’t enough.
Finally I convince myself to go finish up some paperwork. I walk towards the living room where my desk is, and pull out a pen and a flashlight. I always need the flashlight to do any sort of writing because my eyes don’t even seem to register what I am writing if I don’t have extremely concentrated light focused on the paper.
I switch my flashlight on and begin writing. Going along, I manage to get through most of it within twenty minutes or so. Although, as time passes, the light from my flashlight seems to be brighter and brighter. Confused yet happy, I look at my flashlight and see that it wasn’t even on. I click the button a few times, and it must be dead. Confused, I look up at the ceiling where the recessed lighting is and am almost blinded as I look at it. It’s brighter than I’ve ever seen it in my life. I feel the light hit my skin and take in the beauty. I’ve never experienced this much pure bliss. Finally, light has entered my life and I feel a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I look around the living room and find that every single light source that has been turned on is glowing brighter than ever before. So, I just sit in my office chair, basking in the artificial light that is finally enough for me.
A few minutes go by, and the excitement of light has worn off. Now, if anything, it has become too bright. I look up at the ceiling once again and see that the light is even brighter than before. How could that be possible? It almost hurts my eyes.
In fact, now it does hurt my eyes. I look down at my tile floor for a second. With the overly bright light, I can now see things I never saw before in my house. There’s huge cracks along the baseboards. The cracks even run up the walls and spider out in a million directions. I quickly run into my kitchen, and find that the cracks are there too. How could I have never seen them before? I know that my house was dark, but it shouldn’t have affected my sight that much, right?
I look to the countertop and find the set of chef’s knives sitting pristinely in the corner. I never realized how incredibly dirty they were, or how sharp the blades were. I take a closer look and find gunk practically growing on the knives. I seriously don’t understand how I could not have seen it until now.
The light is getting brighter. The colors are now becoming washed out in my kitchen by the harsh light. It’s so bright that anything even slightly reflective causes me to squint and look away. I feel my heart pounding in my chest as my brain tries to think through the situation. Why is this even happening?
I look around more at my kitchen and discover even more details that I had never seen before there was light. The window’s seal was completely broken, and there were insects flying in, hundreds a second. The pots and pans all had leftover food residue that looks like it could grow to the size of the house soon if left unsupervised. My fridge had a huge dent in the metal door, and the cabinet doors were all off of their hinges. My house was literally falling apart. All the while, the lights were getting unbearably brighter.
I had to get out of here. I wasn’t sure which would get me first, the lights blinding me, or the house collapsing on top of me, or the mold taking over almost all of the food left in my pantry. I run towards the front door, and try to leave, but the instant I touch the handle, I draw back my hand as it burns me. The light has become so bright that I can hardly see anything, and the metal in my house is starting to heat up. I realize that it is now or never, and that the flesh on my hand will need to be sacrificed to spare my life. I reach out blindly for the handle once again, turn the lock, and shove the door open. I can smell the burning flesh and I can hardly feel anything but pain in my hand.
As I cross the threshold of my door, I hear my house begin to collapse behind me. I run a few yards away from my house and look back. It’s entirely rubble now. I wonder how I could have never seen all of the signs of that decaying house until a few minutes ago.
The darkness blinded me from the problems. The light blinded me from the solutions.
It was too late.
I am homeless.
Nobody would ever believe that I hadn’t seen the cracks in my walls and foundation until now, or the mold growing on my food or the lights becoming so bright that I was temporarily blinded. They will all think I’m crazy. And the worst part is, I can feel the darkness settling over me once again. There is no more light, and even though it seemed to blind me temporarily, I missed what the light revealed. Now I am left in the dark about what my life will become once again.

“We’re a meat family,” my dad would proudly tell strangers. He’d wait for the quizzical look, then launch into detail, starting with how many freezers we had, how long we could sustain ourselves on the contents. It was just his way of starting a conversation, which made sense when you considered that raising and home-killing animals for food was, for want of a better term, his life-long hobby. His prize possession was one of those industrial-sized vacuum sealers: you could put half a pig inside and wrap it in plastic so tightly that every wrinkle and skin fold waxed unreal with shiny detail.
If we hadn’t lived in a rural area, albeit semi-urbanised, I guess it would have been pretty weird. But the mostly farming-stock locals only found his extra enthusiasm a little bit odd.
When he wasn’t being a bit embarrassing talking about it, I never really paid much heed to his hobby. I had a child’s vaguely grateful awareness that though our family went through some lean financial times, our stomachs never suffered like some of the families around us. All the beef, pork, ham and bacon in those big old chest freezers passed down from his dad really could have fed us for years.
I should preface all this by saying that I wasn’t a particularly bright kid, though neither was I dumb. I didn’t fail badly at anything in school, I just never achieved beyond a pass. I didn’t know it yet back then, still quietly dreaming about being a ballet star or a dressage champion, but mediocrity was my destiny. And I think that’s why I got on so well with my Aunt Liz.
Liz was my dad’s live-in youngest sister. She was one of those women who get described as ‘bubbly’ — not really pretty, not really smart, not a lot going on besides just being… well, all Liz. But she was salt of the earth; kind, caring, and great with kids. She was the only person who would willingly mind my two older brothers, who fought like hellcats and caused more trouble than the whole last generation of my family combined. People would privately lament to my parents that it was a shame Liz didn’t have kids of her own, but dad would just shake his head and say Liz liked it that way – that all the fun of looking after kids is being able to give them back to their parents.
I guess she was like me; nice, but mediocre. Lovely, but somehow forgettable when she wasn’t doing something for you.
But when Liz left us, I couldn’t forget her.
In hindsight, it was pretty weird timing that we had a big fortieth birthday party for Liz right before she disappeared. She was radiant that night; she’d hired a local girl to do her hair and makeup, and it was honestly the first time I’d ever seen her look pretty. She’d even worn a push-up bra under a tight red dress, which flattered her very plump curves well enough that the neighbour’s farmhand was spotted disappearing into the woolshed with her for a snog. In my dawning awareness, that gave a plain girl hope: if Aunty Liz could get a guy at forty, maybe things would turn out okay for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t forget how her pink cheeks, her eyes, her whole self, glowed that night before Liz went to bed. She said it was the best birthday ever, and that she was very much looking forward to the next stage of her life.
Would I have done anything different, if I had known? If I had realised what, exactly, that next stage was?
The week after the party, Aunt Liz said she was going on a little holiday up north, to visit some old school friends. She packed her things – she didn’t honestly have that many – and drove her little orange mini out onto the main road. And with a wave of one fleshy hand, she was gone. Nobody really thought much of it when she didn’t call, because nobody rural had cellphones back then. And Liz was, as I said, somehow kinda forgettable when she wasn’t right in front of you.
When we hadn’t had contact for six weeks, Dad tracked down the land line numbers for their old school buddies. They were surprised to hear from him — Liz had never arrived, so they had just assumed she’d cancelled her visit. No-one had thought to check. I eavesdropped on the conversation, and it sounded for all the world like *they* had forgotten about Aunt Liz, too.
From there it became a missing person case. The local cops came and talked to all of us; the farmhand who’d been seen snogging her was briefly detained, then let go, dad got grilled at length, even my hellion brothers were questioned thoroughly to see if this was one of their wild and dangerous pranks gone wrong.
But everything was a dead end. Nobody knew where Liz was, or what had happened to her.
The remains of her old mini were found halfway across the country, burned out on a beach, on a derelict stretch of ragged, rocky coastline. The police assumed murder and combed the area for remains. But even the most expert divers couldn’t conquer the incredible undertow and fast-shifting seabed of that coastline to look for evidence, so none was forthcoming.
Eventually the cops collectively shrugged and said that there was really nothing more they could do unless more information suddenly came to light. The locals knew nothing, no witnesses had come forward, and the trail was cold. As far as anyone knew, poor aunt Liz had been murdered on some desolate beach, far away from her home.
It didn’t feel fair to me. She’d once mentioned wanting her remains buried on our farm, in the graveyard plot beside grandma and grandad.
So, in my grief, I went into her room to look for something of hers to bury beside them.
Like I said, Liz didn’t have many things. Her room was pretty spartan, and her wardrobe was mostly sensible farm stuff. There was one exception: she, like me, did like to read, and she had a pretty good collection of well-thumbed books. I think it’s the escapism – even the most mediocre girl can lose herself in the plot of some trashy romance novel, imagine there’s still hope of being swept off her feet by that handsome stableboy, his inexplicable yearning for chubby plain girls.
So I set myself the task of going through the books, to find the right one to bury in the graveyard plot.
Most of them were exactly what you’d expect, but some of them were racier than I was used to. I felt various parts of my body flushing and tingling, as I read breathless prose about calloused hands touching the softest flesh of the protagonist. Okay, if I’m honest with myself, I might have got a little *too* invested in my project at that point. But that was also why I persisted going through her entire collection, until I found the ragged paperback from 1970, entitled Tawny Sands. And inside that trashy cardboard romance cover, I discovered not the tale of Tawny Sands, but some carefully hand-cut, stitched-in pages. A handwritten story in my Aunt’s rounded penmanship: Memoirs of a Long Pig.
I read her story twice in a row, utterly gripped.
Aunt Liz was no Stephen King – heck, she wasn’t even the Goosebumps guy – but her story was gripping and compelling, and I couldn’t put it down. Even if I hadn’t known her, I think that would have been true.
The gist of it was that Liz, when she was sixteen, had discovered that our family had a very long history of eating what she described as ‘Long Pork’. It’s an antipodean term, anglicised from the Pacific Islands: human meat.
Like me, young Liz still had some hopes and dreams. In one of her many failed attempts to find a special talent, she’d taken up cooking as a hobby. Naturally, with our family’s overabundance of meat, she’d scoured the freezers in the shed for ingredients: the racks of ribs and stacks of pork chops, butcher-paper wrappings all neatly labelled with the first letter of the name of the animal they came from.
She found familiar meat from Rodney, one of the pigs that had been recently slaughtered, emblazoned with an ‘R’ in her father’s strong, blocky lettering. There were cutlets labelled ‘M’ for Mary, from one of the lambs she’d hand-reared, and ‘F’ for Ferdinand, the steer they’d killed the month before. But she couldn’t explain the many, many curious parcels of meat on one side of the huge freezer, all labelled ‘J’ – at least, not until she took it all out and assembled it as well as she could on the scoured concrete floor of the killing shed. A big, frozen jigsaw puzzle without the box, her best attempt to discover what kind of beast the pieces had come from.
The animal, she quickly realised, was a Long Pig. Her own Aunt Jenny, who had died the month before – just after her fortieth birthday.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, for Liz, her father entered the shed right at that moment and realised his daughter had discovered the family secret. He sat down calmly on the lid of the freezer, and explained to her that this was a long-running family tradition, dating back to at least before his grandfather had been born.
“There are always people in life, Liz,” he’d said, “who won’t really amount to much. They want to be useful, want to be more. They strive and they strive, trying job after job, hobby after hobby, trying to hit on something they’re really good at. Something that makes them special. Those people can waste their whole lives, chasing dreams that never come true. Eventually they die unfulfilled, knowing that all their time has been wasted. That what they leave behind will fade quickly.”
His voice was oddly gentle as he leaned down and patted one of the neatly wrapped cuts of Aunt Jenny, still sitting frozen on the shed floor.
“Your Aunt Jenny was one of those people. So was my Aunt Irene.” He paused to gaze at his daughter, his next words peppered with emphasis. “But you see, my sweet Liz, they did find a purpose in life. They did find a way to be special, and they left this world utterly certain of their gift.” He stood up, stretched his back. “Let me show you.”
Liz waited while my grandad meticulously stacked the meat back into the freezer, all but one J-marked parcel that looked for all the world like a thick venison steak. He took her back to the farmhouse, and reverently unwrapped the deep red, heavily marbled meat to let it thaw. Then he laid it in the family’s ancient, cast-iron pan, basting it with butter and rosemary until a heavenly scent filled the kitchen, and Aunt Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“Just try it. Let her show you. You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
Even though she knew it was her aunt, Liz couldn’t stop herself from taking that first bite. There was something transcendent about the smell, overriding her natural revulsion that this was human meat, not one of their farm animals. For the first time, she truly realised it: we’re just another kind of animal. And weren’t her memories of Mary the lamb almost as fond as her memories of Aunt Jenny?
Liz explained then, in her curly handwriting, the explosion of taste that had assaulted her when she tried the steak. It was tender, it was succulent, it was rich beyond imagining. The fats melted on her tongue, lingering somewhere between pork and beef, but oddly neither. The flavour of the meat defied identification; something familiar, yet not.
But one thing she couldn’t deny; it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Tears dripped onto her plate, mingled with the juice, the grease — not grief, but a pure, real, giddy delight.
“You’re tasting your aunt’s love for this family,” my grandad explained. “Her entire life was carefully curated, to eventually make unforgettable moments for us, just like this. This was her way of being special. This was the greatest gift she could possibly bring to our world – and because she realised that, she died with not a single regret. She knew her life had purpose. She was perfectly, completely fulfilled.”
I felt those words. I felt them lodge in my own belly, settling uncomfortably deep. I knew Aunt Liz, probably better than anyone else in the family. I’d seen how fucking happy she’d been on her fortieth, how goddamn fulfilled she was, despite apparently being a *nobody* and achieving *nothing*. Somehow, in the space of a single day, she had gone from being a forgettable background character to becoming the *main character*, immortalising herself in our family’s history with her sacrifice. Quite literally becoming part of all of us, forever.
I went to the killing shed after I finished with the book. I looked inside the freezers.
But there were no vacuum-sealed packages labelled ‘L’, no matter how deep I dug into the frozen stacks of plastic-wrapped flesh. Panicked now, not sure if I wanted to connect all the dots or unconnect them, I tried to think back over the last few months, recall any meals that had been unusually good. A few Sundays ago, we’d had a stew that really hit the spot and left me craving more. And I realised that the family had a really good night that night; my brothers behaved themselves, my parents didn’t fight, and grandma and grandad had been there. Hadn’t they looked far more… expectant than they should have?
I strained my brain, trying to recall if I’d seen the homekill bag on the kitchen bench – if I’d registered what letter it was. I knew it wasn’t an L. I would have remembered if it was an L.
And then it hit me, the memory, the connection, sizzling as if branded with a hot iron.
It had been an ‘E’.
E for Elizabeth. Not for Edward the pig.
I snorted at my own stupidity – of *course* Liz was short for Elizabeth – and as I comprehended my lack of smarts, I felt something give inside me.
I wasn’t clever, and nothing, nothing would ever make me smart. I had no big talents. I wasn’t beautiful, or even cute – and even if I had a million plastic surgeries, it still wouldn’t fulfill me. It wouldn’t be real.
I was a Liz.
I was a Jenny.
I was whoever the first aunt had been, the aunt who had dedicated her life to making her flesh as delicious as possible, who had worked every damn minute to be the best Long Pig she could ever be.
I wondered how many magical family evenings had been spent eating Aunt Jenny. How many glorious, satisfying, memorable dishes had been made out of her.
And… I wanted that. I wanted to finally know I had a *purpose* in life. One so simple, and so easy to achieve.
I wanted what Aunt Liz had.
***
It's my fortieth birthday today and I’m so fucking excited. For the last twenty-four years, I’ve dedicated myself to this moment; I’ve eaten exactly what I needed to, I’ve exercised just enough, but not too much, to maintain that perfect balance of marbling vs tenderness. I’ve relaxed and meditated to keep all those amazing flavours inside of me. I’ve researched all the greatest meats in the world, from prime Angus beef to A5 Wagyu. I really think I may have outdone myself.
I’m having my hair and makeup done at the local salon this afternoon, and I’m going to look so pretty; all prize piggy on show at the fair. I’m even going to have a big red ribbon in my hair, in memory of Aunt Liz.
Maybe there’ll be a cute boy I can snog in the wool shed, maybe there won’t – I don’t really care; because the most important, most certain thing is that I’m going to be the most delicious Long Pig in the history of our entire family.
I’m going to make everyone so damn happy, and I’m just so glad I can share my story with you all, instead of hiding it in a grubby book like poor Aunt Liz.
My only real disappointment? That you won’t get to taste me.
Reader, I have loved, loved my life. My Long Pork will be out of this world: once tasted, never, ever forgotten.

Bobbing Theory
Greetings Apes, new theory on the share offering. A little less sexy than the colorful speculation, but this theory ties in with a few of the current and past DD. (I’ll add a little tinfoil at the end).
For this theory I am going to exclude as much tinfoil as possible and also make the assumption that market makers and hedge funds are not engaging in crime but are instead (mostly) working within the rules they created to fuck the poors. While I do not agree with their rules, legal does not equate to ethical as was taught in my PhD program’s first semester ethics course, After all slavery was legal in the US.
“Bobbing” is a swimming technique that involves gently bouncing from the pool floor and practicing exhaling underwater and inhaling above the surface. In this case the dumb storm troopers (Shorts) are the ones in the pool.
There are 5 Assumptions that are made in this theory:

1. Many hedge funds are short GME and need to maintain margin.
2. The Hedge-funds are likely working together to maintain margin.
3. Margin calls are not going out or at the very least are “flexible.”
4. They still think they are going to win and have a thesis (this is important).
5. RC had a plan to stop the bobbing cycle.

I think many of us are getting the perspective wrong and I think it would benefit us think a little differently. When we are seeing these price rises, it is not about them losing control. If it was, the price would look like a phone number. This is a controlled and planned raise. The price rises accomplish two things: First it attacks retail psychology and gets us to FOMO (fear of missing out) and then (for less hardened apes) breaks moral (they want this) and second It helps them support their cost basis (SCB). This is a two step process, let’s break this down.
Retail FOMO
This helps the shorts in a few ways but it is a double edged sword. When there is no liquidity it only takes a few shares to raise the price. This creates more volatility and options prices go up and the shorts happily write the contracts. When they drive the stock price back down to near max pain they get to keep the premium. They win. They also get to keep us gambling, remember it’s not the wins that hook the gambler it’s the almost. This FOMO raises the price as they funnel orders to their dark pools and they let the price raise controlled. They then meter out the buying pressure and complete the trade after they walk them down through short laddering. The only way this hurts them is if the shares are DRS'd. That is why the volume explodes.
Supporting Their Cost Basis
It is these two processes together that make up the Bobbing Theory and, I believe explain the Dorito of doom. Each time we touch the top of that line they are grabbing margin from FOMO psychology and supporting their cost basis by raising the average price of their opened shorts. They push up to the top of the pool and take a breath of that sweet retail margin. Then they drop back down through (illegal) high frequency short laddering (slowly exhaling their margin) until they hit the bottom. Then when they need to take another breath they push off the bottom get retail to FOMO and take another breath of that sweet sweet retail margin. They do all this in addition to pumping the market and the longs they hold.
The high frequency short laddering to lower the price is why we see so much off exchange and a huge increase in volume. They are trading between themselves to lower the price without actually burning through their short shares.
The 5 Assumptions
In order for the justification for the FOMO and SCB process to make sense we need a “why", thus the 5 assumptions.
The shorts need to have two things, first enough liquidity to maintain a semblance of margin, and second, a promise (reassurance) of profits (for them and the creditors).
In this theory the hedged funds are working together and are helping each other maintain margin, thus spreading the risk. Remember, we don’t need all of them to fail, we need one of them to fail. This will cause buying back shares at any price and this is something they all desperately want to avoid or they will all get liquidated. So what do they do, they “bob” for a breath of air. The thing is they all have to “bob” when one runs low on margin (air) so we don’t know which one was close to failing. They also go to pretty extreme measures when one of them is about to fail, They do this through loans (Melvin, New York Community Bank) or taking on failing banks (UBS, Silicon valley bank). They are also not being adequately margin called (Archegos, Fed Letter to Prime Brokers). Why would you not get appropriately margin called? Because, you can still justify your short thesis (in your mind) and you have a long standing relationship with the prime brokers. Remember GME still needs to turn a decent profit and show a plan for turning around. As of now, GME keeps this plan close to chest and is experimenting.
So... If these things are true, how does RC fight the shorts and how does the share offering apply?
I’m glad you asked. RC and apes have already set the bottom of the pool. If they lower it too far apes buy and DRS the shit out of the stock and burn up liquidity they are desperate for and use for their manipulation. GME also has $100M ready to buy back shares. Ok so they can’t lower it. But they can keep milking retail right....
Not anymore. Those 45m shares are a warning to the shorts that they will need to get their liquidity elsewhere. If they try to "bob" again RC is going to sell the shares and make GME even more valuable. GME does not need the money but RC has shown that he is protecting the shareholders. If they drop the price he will buy ($100m) if they try to fleece shareholders he will sell and be the one to reap the retail margin for the good of GME not the short sellers.
That filing around the 45m share issuance was not put together, filed and approved in the few days the stock ran last week. I think it was leaked to the shorts by someone at the SEC, and the short sellers gave retail one more fleecing before RC closed the door with that filing. If they come up for air agin, he will drown them. And he will do it through the issuance of Global Shares that cannot be shorted and must be booked so that we can see them accounted for in the DRS numbers (he knows what is important to the shareholders). RC knew this was controlled otherwise there would be no reason to fuck the option chain on the announcement timing. It was already fucked, we just didn't know it yet (I mean kinda, lots of us saw that coming).
Tinfoil
You may or may not agree with this. I look at things in real broad strokes.
The SEC (generally) is on our side. I think CAT is specifically for targeting the high frequency trading the hedge funds use to short ladder between themselves. This is one of the truly illegal things they are doing, but the shorts NEED this mechanism to control the price. Without this mechanism GME runs, naked shorts or not. This is one of the things that the hedge fund cabal uses to reassure the collateral holder that everything is going to be fine, if they control the price everything is under control, if they don't........
The DTCC is kinda on our side (now). They saw/see? the writing on the wall and have made Crypto and other pumped bullshit collateral worthless because they know it is fake. They also do not want to get fucked, and are willing to let some of the bad actors take the fall even though they are also complacent. They think they are far enough removed to not get scrutiny from the public because very few even know they exist.
Last speculation, one of the justifications used to stretch this out is that if they concentrate the diamond hardened holders of GME (less people more stocks) that on average people will sell for lower prices do to their overall portfolio being worth more.
Anyway, thanks for reading if you made it to the end. And as a final note: I encourage you to DRS (Book) your shares, if you don’t and you get fucked, my conscious is clear.
See you on the moon! I’ll get the first round.
-Acatalepsy

Has anyone else experienced this? I'm 20 and about 2-3 months ago I was completely fine. I used to do 5-10 mile runs every week and worked out in the gym 2-3 times a week. Stopped this abruptly because of a very hard exam period, where i was constantly stressed and under pressure, and little sleep (4h/night). About 1 month ago this chest pain started, right in the middle of my chest. It feels like a burning constant dull ache, sometimes feeling it differently depending on the way i sit/lay down and when I flex my chest I feel the spot where it hurts.
The problem is I have bad health anxiety and very scared of hospitals. I went to 3 GPs, had EKG done and blood test, all came out clean, only my cortisol was high, which doctor (and therapist) said it was due to stress. I also have slightly high blood pressure these times (It was completely normal before. It always goes up with stress for me). My doctors keep reminding me that I am fine but I am scared if i have this constant prolonged stress and higher than normal BP my heart will wear more and it'll take years off my life. I'm very overwhelmed.
I really want to know how to stop this. It has somewhat dissapeared for 1-2 weeks during this period but other parts of my body hurt unexplainedly, such as my neck, head, shoulder, and when these went away, my chest started hurting again.
Has anyone experienced this?

This fic flows out of me way too easily, so I'm riding the waves while I can. Glad to see people enjoying it too! We continue where we left off, trying to figure out where to go, both with universe at large and with poor, lost child...
As usual, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for his own great work and letting fanfiction flow, and everyone who supported and enjoyed the fic thus far. So, let's see where this goes from now.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Dr. Erin Kuemper, SETI Researcher
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2136
Before entering the conference room, I adjusted my dress suit. Even for official meetings, I usually just prefer simpler official outfits, but this time is different. Being invited to observe the first official diplomatic meeting between humanity and aliens, I wanted to be perfect for it, even if it was meeting the baby-eating monster aliens over a video call.
Stepping inside, I see the other people that would be present for it. Normally, as a SETI researcher, I would object to the presence of any military heads at such a meeting, on purely conceptual level, much less two. But with what we have learned I can’t help but almost feel like even entire room filled with generals wouldn’t be enough for this.
“Ah, Dr. Kuemper. Come in, take a seat. We plan to start hailing them in ten minutes.” Secretary-General motions towards one of free seats, so I take the one that’s further away from both generals. As I do though, General Jones starts talking to me.
“So, Dr. Kuemper, how’s our rescue doing? Were there any further incidents?”, she asked.
“No, not yet. She still hasn’t woken up since that last sedation. While we don’t understand nearly enough about her biology yet, drawing some parallels with biology of Earth life we can infer that while her life is no longer threatened, she will likely take a while to fully recover from blood loss and malnutrition. Much bigger problem will be communicating our intentions to her, as well as regaining her trust after... everything.”
“Is it really smart to assign Noah Williams as one of her main caretakers then?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.
“From analyzing the footage of the incident, she reacted the same way to all the humans in the room. I doubt it was Williams’ specific appearance that was the source of such intense fright. And that assignment is not just for the sake of the alien, but Williams himself. Him and Rosario are both, frankly, on suicide watch right now. They need a chance to try and do something to relieve their guilt.”
To that General Jones just hummed, before turning to the screen. I could also hear General Zhao, the Chinese general, snorting in amusement. I am not sure what he found funny about this, but I’d rather not know at all.
It wasn’t a rational call, I knew it, but if there’s anyone who can project most empathy possible towards our alien rescue, it’d be Noah. I have asked Sara if she wished to participate as well, but she struggles to even look at the child without throwing up, so for her, distancing might be for the best.
“We’re beginning to hail the Arxur Dominion now.” Secretary-General announced, standing in front of the screen, facing it. “Not sure how long it will take.”
“I bet time zones get a ton more complicated on interstellar level...” General Zhao grumbled.
Afterwards, there were long twenty minutes of silence, interrupted by an occasional cough or shuffle before finally screen shifted, and displayed the aliens. It appears they also were in a private conference room, like us. In the middle, standing tallest and looking at us was none other than Chief Hunter Isif from photos the Odyssey crew took. Behind him were two more arxur. One was similar to Isif in build and stature, though not quite as tall, and the other was notably shorter and scrawnier, with lighter scale coloration. Part of me almost assumed that was a female, before I remembered that in the data dump there were no signs of easily notable sexual dimorphism among the arxur. An adolescent then, perhaps?
“Humans. I am glad you responded to our invitation. I believe an introduction is in order. I am Chief Hunter Isif of Arxur Dominion.” The alien spoke, translators working already, translating the noises unlike anything human makes into discernable speech.
“Greetings, Chief Hunter Isif. I am Secretary-General Elias Meier. I represent the United Nations, or UN for short, a governing body meant to represent combined interests of all individual nations of Earth. Before we proceed, I need to ask. Will I not be speaking to your leader, Prophet-Descendant, today?”
That was on the agenda for the meeting, if I remembered correctly. Trying to interact with arxur other than Isif. To gauge just how far this goes. Though it doesn’t seem like it’s happening, considering Isif is the one who picked up and how now he was emitting a low hiss that almost felt like it was carrying amusement.
“No. No offense meant to you, humans, but we Chief Hunters are expected to conduct all business in our sectors on our own. You technically fall within my territory. Plus, why would I give up an advantage I have over other Chief Hunters so easily? We may not ever have war against one another, but the competition is fierce, and you might just be the edge I need to curry more favor.”
I noticed General Zhao scoffing at shameless honesty in arxur’s intentions for this ‘alliance’ they proposed in the databanks. Yeah, just use us to gain more advantage over his rivals. I can’t believe Secretary-General elected to deal with them after all.
“I see. I expected that. Still, even if we were granted an audience, our answer would have remained unchanged. Sorry to disappoint, Chief Hunter, but humanity simply cannot afford a full alliance with the Dominion.” Secretary-General spoke in neutral tone, but I could sense the strain in his voice.
The arxur on the screen had his facial features harden.
“I see. You’re still unconvinced of the prey’s threat to your unprepared world. You believe you may parlay with them.”
“Quite the contrary, we’re more than convinced and have no reason to believe you’re lying. However, while an alliance with you would grant us protection... It would also drag us into the war we wish no part of. We’re... grateful to you for showing hospitality to the crew of Odyssey, and for warning us of the threat, but we will not be diving into war we have no interest fighting.”
“You will not be able to hide forever.” Isif kept insisting, seemingly almost growing agitated. “We knew of you because they did, long before us. They may believe you dead, but all it’d take is one stray vessel for you to be doomed.”
Part of me wanted to be relieved that, despite the tense tone, the negotiations so far were going exactly as planned. Another part of me wept that we were intentionally alienating and putting distance between ourselves and the aliens. And a third part of me was disgusted at the fact that we were talking to them at all.
“Trust us, Chief Hunter, we do not plan to merely sit and wait to be discovered and exterminated. We will be preparing. We simply don’t wish to enter the fight without a good reason.” Elias continued, pushing on to the next topic. “That said, just because we don’t wish for alliance, doesn’t mean we can’t mutually benefit from one another still.”
I could see that the shorter arxur behind Isif was about to speak up, but flinched when the larger one glared at them. Isif himself narrowed his eyes at Elias.
“And what benefit do you see that isn’t us joining hands in battle for survival, Elias Meier?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel Secretary-General smiling at Chief Hunter.
“Trade. Your people are, by your own admission, starving. We could provide a solution. What we lack, however, is information. In this universe, we’re blind, and just sending out probes risks discovery. If you’d be willing to supply us with intel on Federation, we’d be more than glad to relieve your hunger. Maybe not the whole Dominion... But definitely all of your sector’s arxur.”
Arxur behind Isif both slightly opened their mouths, eyes widening in almost human-like expression. Even Isif seemed to be taken slightly aback, though he composed himself much quicker, glaring at his subordinates to make them collect themselves. On our end, I could see General Zhao smirking, and General Jones tapping at her chin in contemplation, while I twiddled my thumbs nervously, waiting for rug to be pulled from under us.
“You promise a lot. Producing food in such quantities with just one planet, even if it were filled with cattle, is impossible. Simply unsustainable.” Isif replied.
“We have our ways, Isif. We solved hunger once, we can do so again. Not immediately, it will take time to ramp up production, of course... But once that happens, all you need to do is name your price in how much meat you need and we will provide. And all we want in return is information to better defend ourselves.”
There was a long pause of contemplation. When looking closely, I could see something that was either agitation... or excitement among Isif’s posse, but Chief Hunter himself remained unimpressed. Eventually he did speak up.
“Don’t think I will fall for such a trick, Elias Meier. You humans are still young, still naive to the cruelty of the universe. We were once like you, and were nearly wiped out for it. I will not have it happen to the only other True Sapient in the galaxy. I will trade information. But I can already sense what the first request will be, and you will not be getting translations for Federation languages.”
That made every human in the room except Elias tense up. I almost flinched at the accusation, Jones hid her mouth behind her hand and Zhao’s smirk turned into a frown. Only Secretary-General remained unshaken. Isif, in meantime, continued speaking.
“If you prove yourself capable of helping us, and manage to provide as much sustenance as you claim you can... I will consider it. But until then, I will not be accelerating your desire to commit extinction by Federation’s hands.”
“Then, if you need to benefit from us first before putting us at risk, we can only thank you again for your concern, Chief Hunter.” Secretary-General replied. I was surprised at how collected he remained despite the arxur completely seeing through our intentions with this ‘trade deal’. “Trust us, we have no interest in getting annihilated in antimatter fire, but we are willing to work to earn your trust. We will be sending lists of information we desire. I hope that partnership can strengthen the bonds between us further.”
“Indeed. We will review and return to you the amounts of food we will require for it. Show us what you are capable of, humans. Now let’s get this over with. Conversing like that is... tiring.”
Right. Arxur are naturally solitary, according to the databank they gave us. A species of biologically predisposed introverts...
“Farewell, Chief Hunter Isif.” Meier replied curtly, before the screen dimmed and camera light disappeared. Contact was over.
I let out a deep sigh of relief, realizing I’ve been holding it in for a while now. There... was a lot to consider about what just happened. I was told footage would be saved, so we can better analyze the arxur nonverbal cues later.
Elias turned to us and put his hands on the table.
“So, that didn’t go as bad as it could have. Any thoughts?”
General Zhao was first to speak up.
“We’ll need information on Federation tactics and weaponry. We’ll have to prepare a strong l space military regardless of whether they can be talked down, but it’s much easier to convince someone not to kill you when doing so risks their own life.”
“I’m more interested in whether there is any technology that could allow us to send spy drones into Federation space without leaving obvious trail back to us.” General Jones countered. “We might not even need arxur translators if we can decode the language via our own surveillance.”
Elias turned his eyes on me expectantly. I considered everything that happened, things Isif said and ways his presumably-lieutenants reacted to conversation, things we learned from their data bank... And it dawned on me.
“They... see us the same way we have seen them before learning of their horrid acts. First contact with someone who treats you like a person, and first people in the galaxy whom you can see as friends. We sought the stars seeking to not be alone in the universe, and while their ways are repulsive to us... It’s not true the other way. This cooperation to them is much more sentimental than it is to us. They want to be able to trust us and rely on us.”
Elias smiled and nodded at my assessment.
“Thank you for your input, everyone. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Dr. Kuemper, I hope you’re ready for tomorrow’s announcement and your promotion?”
Right. Tomorrow we’re revealing that First Contact has occurred to the public. It took a lot of effort to make it presentable without triggering mass panic, and some details will be omitted. That and I’m receiving a new position in the UN related to handling alien affairs. What a joy...
“As ready as I can be.”
“Then let’s get to it. It won’t be easy, people, but our entire civilization is at stake. We need to get this right, and in a way that won’t have our descendants condemning us.”
Right. Cooperation with arxur, this trade... I didn’t like the idea of it, but I understood. We needed their help. Perhaps through this cooperation, rather than them influencing us, reverse can be made true, unlikely as it may seem. Worst part was failing to secure any translators at all. While I’m sure generals are salivating at idea of cyber-espionage against the Federation, I just wanted to be able to communicate with the rescued child, and make sure we could properly help her recover. Still... We will do our best, even without them.
Memory Transcription Subject: Stynek, Venlil Test Subject
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2136
Second time I woke up; the memories came to me much faster. How I was captured during the raid. How I spent months in cattle pens. How I was used as a meal for mystery predators. How they took me with them. And how I was now in their laboratory, or whatever closest thing predators have in their feral science.
Of course, my first instinct was to try and escape, but I couldn’t. I found myself actively strapped to the bed. I was panicked at first, trying to break through the restraints, but to no effect. So I let my head fall back onto surprisingly soft pillow and lay there... Awaiting my fate. But fate wasn’t coming, and I found myself getting a bit bored. So I raised my head and examined the room.
It seemed different from the room I was in before. Most of the machinery was gone, and the only big machine beside my bed wasn’t actually hooked up to me anymore. There was a large, predator-sized closet in the corner, and two big tables with seats. Of course, there was also bed itself. If not for the fact that I was slated to be butchered on this bed soon, it’d be the most comfortable place I got to lay down on since my capture. As is... It felt like cruel irony. I felt my eyes watering again. Did predators want to taunt me? Give me this sense of near-comfort as one last cruelty?
Subconsciously I tried calling out for mom, but felt my throat burn and ended up coughing instead. I think all the screaming recently wasn’t good for it, and with how dry my mouth was it didn’t help. Looking around I spotted it. A glass of water on a small stand beside the bed! Except it was completely out of reach. I tried shifting my tail under me, to try and extend towards it, but I’d need to have the bed flipped to have the chance at reaching. They probably left it like that intentionally... Letting me feel thirst, see the answer, but not be allowed to take it, all to make me suffer more.
I attempted to shift and wiggle against the restraints some more, when it hit me. It finally hit me that my leg was gone, gone for good. Even if I could somehow miraculously break those restraints... And get out of predator captivity... And make it back home to Venlil Prime... It wouldn’t be the same. I’d never live a normal life. My vision blurred with tears again. Why couldn’t they just end it... Why did... they have to make me suffer more.
Then the door opened and my heartbeat quickened. I realized just what I asked for, and looks like the universe itself wanted to give me that. Through the door stepped a figure... No longer clad in big rubbery suit. They probably realized such deception won’t work on me. But which of predators it was made my blood freeze.
It was the same one again... The dark-colored one that was there in meeting with arxur, and when I first woke up... Why was it always this one showing up over and over? Did all those predators look like that? He was wearing different outfit, maybe it was a different predator? No, it’s too similar, it must just be... assigned to me. My personal warden. Just like the pens had specific wardens assigned to them that were in charge of picking out meals.
This is it then. They must have done everything they wanted to do with me while I was unconscious and now that I was awake to feel it, were ready to finish me off. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as the predator approached. I lost count of how many times I was anticipating death recently, but this was it... This must be it, finally, right? Universe can’t be cruel enough to do more to me, can it?
And as I waited for my demise, with held breath I lay. And lay. And waited. Until I realized that by now predator would long be within reach of my throat. I slowly opened my eyes, and blinked a few times to get the tears out. Sight of predator right beside me made me flinch, as it sat down by the bed, looking over me with its hungry, binocular eyes. I could see its mouth, lips quivering in hunger. And yet it did not lunge... Why?! Why can’t they just finish me off already? I felt so exhausted and fatigued by it all...
Predator seemed to lock its horrid eyes with my own eye. The gaze was intense, and I felt frozen. I couldn’t move, not even a muscle, as it just stared at me and I stared back. I felt a tear roll down my face, contributing more to the clump of matted fur, grown stained with so many tears. And that’s when the predator reached its hand for my head. I closed my eyes, recoiling away to the best of my ability. I... I didn’t want it... Please... Why can’t I just wake up back home, why can’t it all just be a nightmare...
I was prepared for its claw to grasp my face, to twist my neck, to scratch at me... But the only thing I felt was a small caress right under my eye, where the tear ran, wiping it off and rubbing at clumped fur, getting bits of dirt out in process. And then it was over. There was no attack. It was just more prolonging of the inevitable. It was so... tiring. I opened my eyes again, to look back at the predator. Really look back in those cruel eyes, to try and understand why the universe would have such evilness exist at all. The binocular gaze was horrible, but no amount of my instinct telling me to flee could help when I had neither the limbs nor freedom to move. So I just looked back. Into those small eyes when they suddenly blinked. And what could only be a tear rolled down the predator’s face. This made me mentally recoil.
How? Did a predator just shed a tear? But that’s... impossible. Only creatures with empathy can cry. That’s the textbook prerequisite for crying! You need to feel things to cry! Predators don’t have that! Arxur don’t have that. We learn that since before school. One of first things parents teach their kids is always the dangers of predators. But this is... Maybe it’s something in the room? Some noxious agent irritating its eyes? Then why can’t I feel it? Is it simply copying me? But why would it do that? Can you even copy something you can’t understand, like feelings? I didn’t understand. Maybe their biology was way more alien? Their skin was naked and had no fur or scales or feathers, maybe their tears are different too? I tried to find any explanation at all, any possible answer to questions swirling in my mind, but nothing made sense. It’s like this one little tear shattered everything I knew about predators. Maybe... They were different somehow? No! That can’t be it. If they were, they wouldn’t... They wouldn’t have been ones to take part in eating me! They wouldn’t deal with arxur! It’s a trick... it must be... But tears are a sign of empathy...
“W-Why...”, I asked in my confusion. My voice came out as ragged and hoarse and I was reminded of how dry my insides felt. I glanced over to the glass at the bedside, still out of reach and now with a predator near it... I stood no chance at reaching it.
Then suddenly, the predator looked over at it as well, and picked it up. I was almost about to cry at the idea that it would drink it in front of me, taunting my thirst further. But it didn’t even bring the glass close to its horrid mouth, instead moving it towards my face. Naturally, I tried pulling back from predator reach, but still restrained, I couldn’t move much. And once the glass was in front of me, predator just tilted it and... left it hovering there.
Was it... offering me a drink? Does that mean the water is poisoned? Why else would it give me some? I didn’t open my mouth, but the predator kept hovering the glass in front of me... Clear liquid inside swishing a bit with unevenness of the movements. Tantalizing... My throat felt drier just looking at it. In the end, base instinct prevailed over reason-based self-preservation. Even if it is poisoned... I was as good as dead in this den of predators, this won’t matter, and at least I’ll die not feeling as dry as a piece of old tree bark. So I let my mouth open and I raised my head as much as I could within the restraints, putting the glass’s rim into my mouth.
That first sip was probably the most heavenly water I’ve ever tasted. It was just normal water, of course, but with how dry I felt, I couldn’t get enough as I started quickly gulping it down. The predator actually helped, tilting the glass, keeping up with how quickly I emptied it. Every gulp was a relief... It was no stale water of arxur pens. It was actually fresh water! But as quickly as it started, the happiness ended, glass fully tilted and empty. I smack my mouth, gathering little bits of moisture gathered on it with my tongue, while the predator moves the glass back onto the counter.
Well, if that had poison in it, I didn’t taste any. And if it was somehow tasteless... It was worth it. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the predator and its actions, so instead I did my best to just ignore it as I savored the feeling of hydration. If I somehow live through this, unlikely though it may be, I will never scorn water again. Though I will probably still prefer some good juice over it...
The predator started moving again, removing the blanket-like sheet that was covering most of my body and reaching to where my restraints connected to the bed itself. It locked its eyes with me again, and this time it at least didn’t cry, but it did start to growl something. It was quiet and subdued, and of course I couldn’t understand any of it, but it didn’t lunge or reach for me directly and didn’t seem any different from earlier. Was it trying to say something?
Then I heard a small click. The light pressure I felt on my arms and chest from the restraints relaxed. Then the predator just tossed the restraint over me, revealing that they released me. I tested it by raising my arms slightly. Why...? Did they plan on taking me somewhere? I could try running but the feeling of lightness, of hollow emptiness where my leg used to be reminded me of how fruitless the endeavor would be, so I just kept laying in bed. The predator’s mouth curved in some wicked expression before they growled out some more of their crude words and got up.
They moved towards the exit, turning around to give me one last creepy staredown before stepping out of the room. And, unsurprisingly, I heard a soft click from the door itself. Right. I was just free to explore my new pen. But even with the freedom granted, I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. The shock of learning that a predator just shed a tear and fed me water was still too much. What is even happening?
It’s all so confusing. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over my head, hiding in the dark. I tried to desperately convince myself to not get my hopes up, to remember what those predators did to me... But somewhere I felt like maybe things here will at least be better than they were in arxur pens. At least there’s that to comfort me. That’s right, they probably just... don’t want me to die yet because they haven’t finished experimenting on me... And the tears were just... I don’t know. It makes no sense! It’s stupid!
I let out a breath and snuggled tighter into the blanket. As long as it was dark and quiet like this, I could at least pretend that I was back home... That everything makes sense... That I am just fine... That I'll be okay...
First - Prev - [Next]

Hi everyone, I’m 26m and for the last 2-3 weeks I’ve been having some strange symptoms I’ve never had before. Let me first say that I currently cannot afford health insurance or a doctor’s visit (though I’ve been tempted to say screw it and go to the ER and take the hit to my credit).
Up until 1 month and a week ago I was 200 pounds and then I started a new job where the work has been more physically demanding. I’ve since lost 23 pounds after cutting sugar, carbs and junk food. I drink just water and watch my calorie count every day. 2 weeks in I was in the dairy cooler putting milk on the shelf but was working pretty fast, out of no where I had some issues breathing for a good 10-15 seconds and it scared the hell out of me. The next day J had the same issues except I wasn’t in the dairy cooler, it was after I unloaded a truck and was very overheated and didn’t drink water (more obvious to happen this time). Thankfully I haven’t had those issues since possibly because I’ve taken it much easier to avoid potentially having that happen again. My current symptoms day to day are: slight difficulty when exhaling (this has been a constant since those episodes) it generally gets worst after or during when I’m over exerting myself. Also have been getting more sinus related issues towards nightime like running nose/stuffy nose and the exhaling has made me want to cough. Mind you I don’t wheeze at all so my parents insist that I don’t have asthma but my brother had it when he was a kid.. I also have been occasionally been getting tightness in chest but always thought it was acid reflux but I would get it even if I didn’t eat anything.
I would truly appreciate any help or advice in the slightest or even if what I said sounds similar to anyone.

PT 1 PT 2
Hi everyone! Welcome. please enjoy the script!! Any questions regarding the script please message me directly, but it's okay to monetize and make gender changes, but please no major script changes! Thank you very much for reading!
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[Sounds of panic, running can be heard, soldiers moving around in a battle]
Prince: Don't look back okay? Keep running! We need to make it to the river, there's supposed to be one just through these trees!
Listener: ....
Prince: I don't know what it is, I never saw it, and I said don't look back!
Listener: ....
Prince: There's nothing we can do for them! This is their job, focus on what's in front of you or you'll die too!
[The listener trips and falls. The Prince notices after a second, and hesitates]
Prince: Shit...-
[Prince goes back and pulls the listener up]
Prince: On your feet damn it! The river is just up ahead! Can you swim?
Listener: ....
Prince: Well then I hope you're a fast learner.
[Heavy beast footsteps approaching, something is charging them]
Prince: Shit shit shit- why the hell is it following us?! Damn... it's fast! There's the river, jump, now!
[Listener jumps in]
Prince: Like fuck am I dying to you, ugly.
[Prince jumps in, and the audio fades out]
[Sounds of being underwater, muffled speech as the audio fades back in]
Prince: Hey, Silverspoon! Where the hell are you! [Prince tries not to inhale any water as they're both carried down the river, gasping for air] God damn it, I can't see anything!
[Audio fades out again, then back in]
Prince: Ugh! [Gasping] If you can hear me, try to protect your head and keep it above water! Don't fight the current!
[Audio fades out, fades back in with forest sounds and a river, as they both wash up on the river bank]
Prince: [Coughing] I... don't hear anything... I have no idea how far the river brought us, but I think it's far enough that we're safe. Are you still alive over there, Silverspoon?
Listener: ....
Prince: Alright, well stop laying in the mud then. We need to get moving. We need to find shelter, and figure out what we're doing. There’s no way of knowing exactly where we are… but the river should have carried us to the west… ughh, damn it! What the hell even was that thing?!
Listener: ….
Prince: Huh- uh, what? What’s wrong with my… oh.
Listener: ….
Prince: No, it doesn’t normally bend like that, you’re right. For once. I guess it must have happened in the river? A broken arm is going to be a little… annoying.
Listener: ….
Prince: Like I told you before, I feel nothing. It just means this arm likely isn’t going to do me much good for anything out here. I’m just glad it’s not your arm, if I had to deal with you whimpering and complaining about a sore arm, your company would be twice as insufferable as it already is.
Listener: ….
Prince: Excuse me? “Let me see your arm” oh like hell! You’d do more harm than good, your stitches were atrocious, I can only imagine what your patch job for a broken bone would be.
Listener: ….
Prince: No, I said your stitches were ‘good enough’ which is entirely different from good! Just leave me be, I’ll make a sling and that’ll do. [Sound of fabric tearing as he rips his clothes for cloth] As long as I can walk and hold a sword, I’m not concerned. Now, if you’re interested in returning to civilization, I suggest you follow me. Don’t slow me down, or I’ll leave you behind.
[A few moments of silence, and footsteps in the grass/woods/dirt as the two start walking]
Prince: Tell me if you see any animals, we’re going to need food to eat tonight. And keep an eye out for danger, I’m busy trying to make sense of where we are. I know every landmark in the kingdom, I just need to find something definitive, so I don’t have time to focus on threats as well.
Listener: ….
Prince: Yes, I expect we’ll be sleeping in the woods for at least a few days. We weren’t in a very populated area to begin with, it could be days, if not weeks until we come across something. Although, I don’t expect us to last weeks out here.
Listener: ….
Prince: I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist. My arm is broken which is bound to take its toll eventually, and you’re bruised and cut like the average prisoner in my dungeon. Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t break anything, you’re rather delicate looking. Hold on-... where is your other shoe? You’re missing one.
Listener: …..
Prince: [The prince sighs] Alright, well that’s not going to work. Walking in one high heel is going to make you trip, especially in this terrain. Not to mention if you step on something sharp and can’t walk, you’re going to cause me a lot more trouble. Here, take mine. [The prince takes his shoes off, handing them to the listener]
Listener: ….
Prince: Don’t, just take them. It’s not out of concern, don’t fool yourself. If I hurt my feet, it won’t slow me down. You’re a different story entirely.
Listener: ….
Prince: Good. Now let’s go.
Listener: ….
Prince: I told you, I have no idea what it was. I’ve never seen a beast like that. It looked like some sort of… I don’t even know. Whatever it was, it decimated an entire troop of soldiers. I get the feeling it’s going to be a much bigger problem for me in the future. The main issue is its speed. If it weren’t for the trees slowing it down, we would have certainly died. Ah, not something to focus on now though, I suppose.
[A few moment of silence and just footsteps again]
Prince: What? Why did I save you? I don’t know, it wasn’t really my intention. Instinct, I suppose. You were there in the wagon with me, so I just acted. There wasn’t really time to think about anything. It wasn’t an act of kindness, you just got lucky. Or unlucky, seeing as this means you’re still my prisoner. Most people prefer it to being dead, not all though.
Listener: ….
Prince: Call me dramatic if you want, I don’t care. I’m only trying to give you fair warning, and keep the boundaries of our relationship completely clear. You? Prisoner. Me? Captor. Got that? Right now we’re on a temporary truce to survive a giant monster attack, so just try to make sure you don’t trick yourself into thinking I’m going to look out for you, or that we’re allies of some kind.
Listener: ….
Prince: You’re welcome to think whatever you want, but don’t start crying when you find out that you’re wrong, and get yourself hurt.
[The listener runs towards the prince]
Prince: Pfft, you’ve never been in the woods a day in your life, have you?
Listener: ….
Prince: Well you just ran at me to save you from a bug, so… oh actually you know what, that thing is giant, fair enough. There, it’s taken care of. I wouldn’t want that thing crawling on me, either. Anyway, while we’re stuck out here, I might as well teach you a few things. That way I won’t have to do everything myself. Once I kill us something for dinner, I’ll teach you how to skin and prep it properly. And collect water, that’ll be important too. We’ll go over the basics when we make camp for the night.
[Scene fades out]
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[Scene opens with sounds of a crackling campfire and nighttime ambience]
Prince: You did okay. The shelter hasn’t tipped over yet, and this rabbit isn’t burnt or raw, so that’s a moderate success. Next one we catch, we’ll see if you were paying attention to my ‘introduction to game prep’ crash course. Once the dew forms in the morning, we'll collect it off the big leaves of the trees around here. Not much left to do now. Ugh, I’m exhausted. Maybe I’ll just sleep for a few days and deal with the rest later… oh, right, gotta take- wait.
[The prince rifles through his bag, looking for his medicine. The sound of broken glass shards clicking together is heard, and rifling suddenly stops]
Prince: …damn it. I should have checked my bag sooner… ugh!
Listener: ….
Prince: Uh n-no, it’s nothing. Mind your own business! I… we… need to get back to civilization as soon as possible. Back to the palace.
Listener: ….
Prince I told you before, don’t ask me about it. The only thing you’re serving to do with that is piss me off.
Listener: ….
Prince: It’s not a big deal. In fact it’s no concern at all. I don’t even need it! I don’t think so, at least. I- ugh, didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?
Listener: ….
Prince: Do not call me hornet prince. Look, I would never tell you anything relating to a weakness of mine, because that’s a good way to have them exploited. You may be stupid, but surely you can understand the value of keeping your secrets?
Listener: ….
Prince: You’re… sick? What are you talking about?
Listener: ….
Prince: You… are you saying that because of what I said? Being frail and ill since childhood isn’t all that uncommon, but that explains why you seem so easily exhausted. I mean you looked like you were about to collapse before we jumped in the river, and we only ran for a couple of minutes. I don’t care, though, let me be clear. You sharing a weakness doesn’t really count if you have no strength to stand on anyway.
Listener: ….
Prince. I guess you did at least survive being swept down a river, but I don’t know if I’d classify the state you’re in as ‘well’.
Listener: ….
Prince: You can give up trying to gain my trust, it’s not going to happen. Besides, you just admitted you were lying to me when I found you on the road. Sneaking away from your family is not the story you relayed to me then. Whatever, doesn’t matter now.
Listener: ….
Prince: Ah, now I see. This is your plan to get me to let you look at my arm, hm?
Listener: ….
Prince: You’re not as clever as you think. You’re not very clever at all, honestly, from what I’ve seen. Well, I suppose we’ll be sharing a sleeping space tonight anyway, so… fine. If you try anything, there will be a sword sticking into your chest before you can blink. That’s your only warning. Anyway… here.
[The prince extends his arm, letting the listener check it out]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prince: Huh… you know, I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to know how to set a bone. Your needlework said you didn’t have much doctoring experience, but maybe I’m just used to experts. The doctors in the castle are typically trying not to leave scars, but your stitching is holding well. Where did you learn all this?
Listener: ….
Prince: You… learned by patching up your brothers? Didn’t you have servants to do that for you? And what the hell were your brothers doing as children to require that much medical attention-? Actually forget I asked, I don’t actually care. This will do fine, in any case.
Listener: ….
Prince: If you’re looking for a thank you, it’s not coming. I’m going to sleep now, I’m tired, and talking to someone so boring isn’t helping that.
[The prince stands, walks over to the shelter they built, and the listener follows him. He crawls in and lays down, once again followed by the listener]
Prince: Do your best not to touch me during my sleep, if you startle me, I might end up stabbing you. I’m sure you’d like to avoid that, and I’d like to avoid getting my clothes any bloodier. Stay strictly on your side of the shelter, and we won’t have an issue.
Listener: ….
Prince: Yeah, so what if you get cold? Not my problem, go cuddle a bear or something.
Listener: ….
Prince: Yeah… goodnight, Silverspoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Hope you liked PT 3 of the script! The prince has a cannon name. I thought it might be fun to have people guess what it might be. If you have a guess, please feel free to comment it! A hint is, it has something to do with a general of the distant past. Either way, do you think I should add his name to the script eventually, or keep it blank? I may even leave it up to a creator by creator basis, who knows! Either way, I think an air of mystery is really fun so I include that a lot, but I also really like to give my characters names, haha. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Hello , I’m 35 and a cannabis smoker. Never ever cigarettes. ( although as of right now/ recently ) I’m not smoking anything. I started smoking about 10 years ago and never had any problems. In 2016 I had a really bad cold and ended up needing a rescue inhaler. Every now and then I would get a bronchospasm and need the inhaler but it was very intermittent and I was still able to do pretty much whatever I wanted, including exercise, figure skating, etc. I could even smoke and dab with no need for an inhaler. It was pretty much only when I would get a cold or the weather would be weird. I live in Alaska ( our air is very dry) anyways I’ve noticed the past month I’ve been needing my inhaler a lot more even without smoking, which is concerning because whenever I take breaks from smoking my need for an inhaler is non-existent however, this time is different. I don’t have a persistent cough. It’s mostly in the mornings and my phlegm is clear and honestly there’s not much. I do sometimes wake up in the morning feeling tight chested and in need of my inhaler. Lately it’s been more than usual. I did do a pulmonary test last year and they didn’t tell me anything alarming. All they said was that I should continue to take breaks every now and then. As of now Ive needed my inhaler after a long walk with kids and having to carry my 5 year old off an on during the walk. I had a little chest pain but no other symptoms . And that was only after coughing to remove phlegm from my lungs. Is this the start of COPD?

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
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Chapter 04

-1-
Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."
Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.
"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"
Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.
More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.
The fight was over in an instant.
Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.
Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.
Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do
Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.
Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.
However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.
Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.
Then, finally, the man stilled.
The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.
System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.
Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.
One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...
Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.
With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.
Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.
A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.
"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"
"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed the visible distressed Roland was having and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."
Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
Your class, [Mage], has level up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
A [Quest] approaches!
Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.
Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.
No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.
Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of were the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.
Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.
He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.
Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.
His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.
After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."
Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.
A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.
The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.
Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.
The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."
Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."
The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his backs at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.
Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.
It sputtered.
Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.
Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.
He failed every time—
—and he didn't know why.
An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.
-2-
The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.
Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.
"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"
"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."
After all, I'm gonna have fun hunting monsters, leveling up, and finally, finally finding some goddamn tree ash.
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"We're your mates." Mates? Six mates? How could it be?! "Wait a minute... you said all of you. That's not how mates work. Fated mates are two people, not an entire harem." I hissed as I shook my head. "This conversation is ridiculous because it's not real." Silence filled the space between us for several long seconds. "You really want us to leave?" My stomach twisted at his words. We just met, and yet he sounded devastated as he asked the question. I silently cursed myself for causing the change I heard. If I was a better person, I would say something else. "Yes." "Fine, we'll leave, but only on one condition. Buss each one of us. Then, if you feel nothing, we'll walk out of here without protest." ———————— I would die in this very spot, and no one would have a clue. Six hours... I'd been trapped under this pile of random things for six hours. My hips and back ached from how long I'd been stuck in this exact position. I'd tried everything I could think of, but the massive pile of unknown stuff never moved. Something heavy had landed on my back, keeping me pinned face down on scattered newspapers and the occasional book. How did I know there were books when I couldn't see them? Because of the sharp corners stabbing into me. If that level of depressing suckage wasn't enough, I had to pee. My bladder hurt... felt like it was about to burst. Because of course, the first time I decided to drink spirits, I'd end up faced and trapped under a pile of a hoarder's treasure. To relieve some of the pressure off my cheek, I dug my shoulder into the newspaper floor and tilted my head until my forehead pressed against the mess underneath me. The small amount of relief I felt from the change of position was enough to stop me from going insane. For now. Ding dong. "You've got to be shitting me." I grumbled into the ancient newspapers. Someone at the door wouldn't matter. I couldn't get off the floor... erm, pile of stuff that acted as a floor, to answer the door. Whoever was on the other side would eventually think someone wasn't home and leave. And so would my only chance at being rescued. "Ha." I couldn't stop the sarcastic laugh from escaping. Even if they did come in, whoever they were wouldn't want to sign up for this insanity. I didn't even want to deal with this nightmare my life had become. Thanks mom. Ding dong. Ding dong. Who rang the doorbell multiple times? Seriously, just go away and let me die. Sure, I would be in the hall of shame for dumb ways to go, but I'd already accepted my fate. Not only would I die in one of the most embarrassing ways in history, I'd go with the dullest life experiences. Why? Because I'd always done what I was supposed to do... every single expectation my parents had, I jumped at the chance to please them. I was an idiot. A boring, lame, not once destined to save the world, sheltered little girl that grew in an inexperienced woman. My life was pathetic. "Parker, are you okay?" The deep voice sent shivers through me. I imagined this unknown man growling in my ear. Then my senses came back to me. While I was on the verge of being crushed to death, someone had broken into my house. Great, just what I needed. Good luck mister robber. If you can find anything valuable, then you deserved it. The logical side of my brain caught up to current events. First thing, a robber wouldn't call out my name as he broke into my house. Second, I didn't know anyone with a voice so delicious... uh, I meant distinct. Yeah. Should I respond or hope they gave up and left? My mother would have insisted I remain silent. Her voice slid through my memory. "Men were a distraction to a woman's career." I rolled my eyes at the phrase she'd said throughout my childhood and even after I'd moved out on my own. If I was going to leave this world, it would be after doing something ridiculous. I'd call the man with the delicious voice over, then I could die from embarrassment. "I'm over here!" What I'd intended to be a shout came out more as a breathy moan. I barely had room to breathe. It seemed shouting was impossible. A burning hot pain shot through my neck as I tried to turn my head to see the footsteps that approached. Nope, that wasn't going to happen. My mysterious, silver tongued hero or burglar's looks would have to remain a mystery just a bit longer. "Over here!" Just like last time, his voice made me shudder. With a voice like that, the man had to be hot. I hoped he had a beard... and tattoos. Not only would it make my mother roll in her grave, I'd always loved looking at burly, tatted up, bearded guys. Add in hair that was long enough to pull and I couldn't think of a good reason to ever leave the house. The crushing weight finally lifted off me. I sucked in a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as I choked on the oxygen. My lungs seized as the rush of air shocked them. Hands grabbed my arms and shoulders, then the world tilted as they lifted me to my feet. I bent over and grabbed my knees as my equilibrium spun. Hands patted my back, helping me calm. Actually, there were more than two hands. I counted enough to equal three people. When I got my breathing under control, I dared follow the black boots that stood at the top of my vision. My gaze slid up, taking in black cargo pants that rode low on a pair of hips. Further up, a black tactical vest contained... bottles of cleaning solution. What the heck? The moment I went full vertical, my balance tilted again. I stepped back to catch myself. In front of me stood a massive man, the kind I had to look up to just to catch a view of his chin... his bearded chin. My fingers itched with the need to touch it. I didn't. It would be weird to stroke a hot stranger's beard. Wouldn't it? I shook my head. Of course it would be weird. I turned, taking in the four men and one woman standing all around me. The sound of newspapers sliding preceding my right foot slid out from underneath me. The giant of a man caught me before I fell on my hips in front of everyone. They all wore similar black tactical gear with cleaning supplies. Colorful bottles of solution, a duster, a roll of trash bags, and... was that a broom and a mop with shoulder straps? Who were these people? "Parker, are you okay?" The deliciously deep voice asked from behind me. After a few tries, I accepted the fact that I was speechless. My brain nudged at me, telling me I'd missed a crucial detail. Every brain cell misfired as I looked them over again. Correction, five of them wore black tactical gear. Every single one of them was drop dead gorgeous, and it made me feel out of place. One of the guys stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. I blinked. No, that couldn't be right. I blinked again, but the sight stayed the same. A man stood taller than those closest to him. Peeking over his crossed arms was a ruffled white fabric with black lace woven through it and tied in a bow. There was even a small scattering of chest hair sticking over the edge. The hem of the skirt ended well above his knee, revealing a tattoo that covered his entire right thigh. My gaze traveled up to his face. A plush black beard contrasted with the skimpy maid's outfit he wore. "I..." Words failed me again. I gestured to the man whose outfit didn't fit the others. He rolled his eyes as he tightened his grip on his arms. "They thought it would be funny to prank me. Did you know, not only did they buy this ridiculous outfit, they stole the rest of my clothes, so I'd have to wear this?" "Uh, no. I don't even know who all of you are." For whatever reason, it hadn't dawned on me that all these incredibly attractive people were standing in my house. Like inside, where they could take in the horror of what my mother left me to inherit. Mortification slammed into me. They'd seen the awful mess. "You all need to leave." "Parker?" The burly man's voice from behind me caught my attention. He waited until I turned around to continue. "You don't remember asking us to come here, do you?" Ice slid down my spine. I'd been pretty drunk last night, but since I'd never had spirits before and I'd decided to take shots of everything in my mother's 'social hour' cabinet, I wasn't even surprised I'd woken up with a hangover. "How much did you have to drink last night?" "Seeing how I'm awake now, apparently not enough. Who are you, and how do you know me?" The man bared his teeth at me, making a sound that I could only describe as a hiss. "Never again. From now on, if you need something, you ask us." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. "Why would I ask you anything?" "Because we're your mates." Hard stop. Mates? A giddy feeling in my belly told me he didn't mean a friend. I held a finger up for him to give me a minute. A sharp pain slid through my abdomen, reminding me I had yet to relieve myself after my drunken night of mistakes. One of the other men spoke up. "I know it's a lot to take in, and you're probably really confused, but we are all your fated mates." I'd read enough werewolf romance novels to know what they meant, and they were dead wrong. Shifters weren't real. "Yeah mate, tell us what you need, and we'll get it for you." "I need to pee." And with that, I stomped out to the nearest bathroom and locked myself inside. Why wouldn't the ground open and swallow me whole? I sat on the bathroom floor with my back propped against the wall and hugged my legs to my chest as I rested my forehead on my knees. Not only had people witnessed the horror I lived in, but they had to be the hottest people in the world. Even the woman had made me look twice and left me shoving a deeper desire I refuse to even consider right now. Knock, knock. "Parker?" It was the giant of a man's voice. Why couldn't they leave so I could be alone? "Go away." I heard sounds on the other side of the door that sounded like he'd sat on the floor. "Come out and talk to us." I pressed my forehead against my knee harder, trying to ignore the giant bearded intercourse god. "Or, just talk to me. We're worried about you." My chest seized as I forced myself to take a deep breath. Irrational anger surged inside of me. Why didn't they understand I didn't want them here? "You don't even know me." The sound of his deep chuckle sent a warm wave of desire through me. Stupid hormones. "Twenty-four hours ago, I would have agreed with you. After last night, I feel like I know you on a level most others never will." What did I do last night? I still couldn't remember what I'd done. I swore to myself I'd never drink again. "It was all lies." "Why are you trying to push us away? What would be so wrong with letting someone in to help for once?" Memories of my parents’ fighting came back to me. It was my tenth birthday. When my dad found out my mom bought a cake for my birthday, he'd attacked her. Everything was a blur until he'd pinned her against the wall. She held a knife to his crotch and threatened him. He'd left and never returned that day. My mind shut down, preventing me from thinking about it any longer. "Because I can't afford to pay you and no one does anything out of the kindness of their heart." I couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice as I said it. "Parker, you're missing a vital part of this dynamic." Silently, I chanted over and over for him to not use the word mates again. It couldn't be real. Paranormal romance novels weren't real... neither were shifters nor the perfect person walking into my life and devoting themselves to me. That was a fairytale, not reality. "Mates. Just to see a smile cross your lips, I'd clean this entire property. Throw in the others, and we'd do anything to see you happy." He tapped something on the door. "I can scent your annoyance through the door." "Wait a minute... you said all of you. That's not how mates work. Fated mates are two people, not an entire harem." I hissed as I shook my head. "This conversation is ridiculous because it's not real." Silence filled the space between us for several long seconds. "You really want us to leave?" My stomach twisted at his words. We just met, and yet he sounded devastated as he asked the question. I silently cursed myself for causing the change I heard. If I was a better person, I would say something else. "Yes." "Fine, we'll leave, but only on one condition. Buss each one of us. Then, if you feel nothing, we'll walk out of here without protest." I banged my head on my knee. That wouldn't work. They weren't even in the room with me and I already felt things. No way could I buss even one of them without having a reaction. "No." "Is that because you already know what I'm saying is true, or are you just being stubborn?" Before I could think about why he had said it, I jumped up and threw the door open to glare at him. "Are you always a jerk?" The confidence disappeared as I looked up into his eyes. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it closed behind me, pushing me against him in the process. His gaze locked on mine as he lowered his head until we were almost bussing. "Never, but I'm not above riling you up to help give you the boost you need to confront a situation with confidence." Now that he was so close, I couldn't remember why I'd locked myself in the bathroom. Everything around us disappeared except the door his hard body pressed me against. His free hand caressed my cheek. "Can you genuinely tell me you don't feel the bond trying to form between us?" I clamped my jaw closed. If I didn't admit it out loud, then it wasn't real, but he was right. I could feel a... connection to him and the others. It didn't make sense, and I might not want it, but was most definitely there. His lips brushed against mine ever so slightly, sending a wave of fire through me. I gripped the straps of his black tactical vest to pull him closer, but he didn't budge. He chuckled as he moved from my lips to my ear. "Mate, if I buss you, I won't stop until you're mine. It might not be today or tomorrow, but I will claim you and make you mine." "And if I say we're not mates?" "Your mouth might lie, but your body and soul can't." I heard him inhale deep at my neck. "I can smell your need to claim me. It fills my senses until it's all I can think about. I've just found you and already you've consumed my entire world." It was bizarre, but I completely understood what he meant. Somewhere deep down inside of me, the idea of kicking out even one of them left me feeling raw. Six mates... and one of them was a woman. I'd known I was attracted to both genders from a young age, but I'd always locked that part of me away. My mom flipped at the idea of me dating a single man. I couldn't even fathom how hard she was rolling over in her grave at having six lovers. It was so much to process. "Come on, let's go back to the others." His voice pulled me back to reality. "Not yet." Suddenly, I didn't want to move. When I felt his body pull back, I gripped his vest tighter. My gut twisted as I decided to throw a lifetime of caution out the window. "buss me." He growled deep in his chest as his hands slid down my sides until he cupped my hips. A squeal of surprise escaped me as he lifted me up, then held me against his chest as he pressed me against the door. "You're mine... ours." Then his buss consumed me, mind, body, and soul. It felt as if our life forces bonded together. The mere thought of letting go of this man became too much. It was in that moment I realized I'd screwed up. I'd never be able to give him up, or the others, without ripping my own heart from my chest. I regretted so much in my life. What was one more? I sank my hands into his hair, gripping it at the roots, and tilted his head back. Our buss broke. A smug satisfaction slid through me when I realized he was breathing as hard as I was, but I wasn't done throwing out stupid rules my mother had forced on me. I pulled his head until I'd exposed his neck. The edge of a tribal tattoo peeked out under his shirt. I trailed the tip of my tongue along the dark lines, then bussed a trail along his neck. He moved until only one hand cupped my hips. His other hand caressed the back of my neck, urging me to do whatever I wanted to him. I tightened my legs around his waist, lifting myself higher as my busses moved along the edge of his beard. "That is hot." Another man's voice made it through my lusty fog. "Yeah, can't wait until it's my turn." Someone else said. I pulled back and realized my five other mates were watching us make out. All of them had a hunger in their eyes I'd never seen before...

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
Next >

Chapter 01

-1-
Ethan’s fists pounded the punching bag, sending a rapid series of jabs that landed with resounding thumps, each strike punctuated by ragged breaths. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to surrender to the burning in his muscles or the rawness of his knuckles. He remained focused on punching.
Around him, the rest of the boxing team rested, even the coach looked like he needed a breather. But Ethan couldn’t afford to slow down—not with the first round of eliminations looming.
More, Ethan thought, his muscles burning as he threw another combination of jabs and cross punches. More, more, more.
Boxing had never been his choice; it was a path forced upon him by a father with unfulfilled dreams. Yet somewhere along the way, the thrill of the fight had ignited a fire within Ethan—a primal need to test the boundaries of his endurance, to feel alive in a way no textbook could provide.
But now his father lay dying in a hospital bed, and Ethan was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. His muscles burned and his knuckles were raw. But he couldn’t stop.
“Oy, mate, you should take a break.”
Jacob’s voice cut through Ethan’s reverie, and he turned to face his friend, chest heaving. “I can keep going. I’m fine.”
Jacob shook his head, concern etched across his features. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself. Listen, I know you’re worried about the eliminations and your dad, but you’ve got this. You’ll be fine. You’ve trained so hard. Harder than any of us, mate.” Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“It’s not enough,” Ethan stepped away from the punching bag. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean? You’ve improved a ton since you first started, and you’ve gotten to this level faster than anyone else. There’s no way you’re getting cut from the team.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, sighing as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Listen, man,” Jacob said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I get that you’re nervous. It’s normal, okay? But I’ve seen you out there. You’re good. Really good. If anything, the rest of us are the ones who should be worried—”
Before Jacob could continue, Ethan’s phone rang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent gym.
Looking at his phone made him frown and excuse himself. The caller ID was a familiar one. With his phone pressed against his ears, he walked down the corridor, leaving the other members of the boxing team behind.
“Hello?” Ethan said into the phone.
Then, his world tilted on his axis.
-2-
Ethan hated funerals.
It was a strange thing to say, and yet, there he was, thinking that exact same thing as he stood at the side, watching as a small crowd gathered around. The smell of freshly turned earth was thick in the air, along with a heavy dose of sorrow and grief. Or maybe that was his imagination; after all, most were likely putting on a show. A wake that lasted all of ten minutes. A quick eulogy. The final plop of dirt onto the polished wood coffin. Then they were gone. Just like that, they were gone.
His father’s funeral was over just like that.
Ethan waited a while longer after all the mourners had dispersed, then finally turned to look at his mother. His mother sat slumped in the front pew of the church; her gaze fixed on the ground. He sat beside his mother silently. She looked older today, like all the fight and life had just seeped from her body. They didn’t speak a word for the longest while, but finally, his mother broke the silence.
“Do you blame me?”
“No,” he said automatically.
You do, a small voice said in the back of his head. Because maybe, if they hadn’t sent him away, he could’ve pursued his dreams...
“Thank you,” his mother said, the relief in her eyes far too apparent. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her hands trembled. She swallowed audibly before she continued. “I was such a stupid little girl when we married. I had no choice but to leave for Dubai because...”
“You don’t need to explain anything.” Ethan looked down at his knuckles. “I understand.”
“He always blamed himself,” she said suddenly, and Ethan frowned. “For not just letting you into civil engineering. For pressuring you into, well, violence.”
Ethan smiled wryly, staring up at the empty rafters overhead.
Such violence, Ethan, a voice whispered into his ears. Focus on your studies, not on hurting people. You’ll have a bright future, I’m sure of it.
Ethan sighed as he felt the memory rise unbidden in his mind. It wasn’t the first time his mother had spoken to him like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
You can’t always rely on your fists, she would say. Sometimes, words are all you need. They can change lives, even save lives. They can be the difference between a happy life and a miserable one. Remember that.
Yeah, well, she failed to see it wasn’t hurting people he was after, but pushing himself beyond his limits. To prove to himself that he could. To feel the limits of his body, and surpass them.
To feel alive.
“Your father wanted the best for you,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ethan gave his mother a sad smile. He talked with his mother a little bit after, but eventually, he excused himself.
She hugged him before he left. A tight, almost desperate squeeze that seemed to drag out for longer than it really did. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond and wasn’t able to think of anything better than giving her a couple of awkward pats on the back.
Then, when somewhere nice, he lit a cigarette. Stupid, useless, and unhealthy, but he had to do something to let off steam or his entire body was going to burst apart like a firecracker.
When it was nearly time for the cigarette to burn itself out, he suddenly got engulfed in bright light. He didn’t think, nor could he; it was just way too fast.
The last thought he had was something along the lines of ‘the fuck?’ before he crashed face-first into space-time itself.
-3-
Ethan slammed his head against the plush velvet pillow, groaning. Post-reincarnation—transmigration?—headaches were a real pain, especially when you woke up in the body of a drunken wastrel named Theodore Lockheart, the most indebted, despised, fucked up noble in the entire bordertowns—lands that were on the border of the world of the living; lands that were under the constant threat of the dead.
He was tired, irritable, and he had a headache so annoying it was almost as if his skull was split open. Not to mention, his nose was throbbing in pain from what he could only guess had been a one-sided beatdown.
Had the Baron gotten beaten to a pulp somehow?
It was possible, after all, Ethan did remember snippets of Theodore’s recent memories—nothing more than that, though. Theodore tended to suit up as a rich merchant. And he’d likely gone to the bar after losing his fortune earlier in the night, and then had likely fucked a wench or two, vented on the poor women, gotten punched and kicked out.
Groaning, Ethan peeled himself out of bed and forced himself to move. He had things he wanted to do today, like sit somewhere nice and contemplate the meaning of existence—or smoke cigarettes. But sadly, he had none, and he despised alcohol.
Strange, Theodore—no, Ethan, thought. Why do I so easily believe in all this? And why am I so easily accepting that I’m this bastard now?
Though the question was there, Ethan found that it didn’t bring up any emotions. It was like an empty sentence in his thoughts, with nothing behind it.
Ding! System Initiating…
Consciousness transferred...
Subject: Ethan
Social integration protocols activated.
Linguistic database uploaded. Communication in all known languages will be facilitated.
Confirmation: Subject has all their memories upon induction. Check.
Disclaimer: This is not a dream simulation. This is a permanent transfer. Subject has been induced to fully believe this reality, but nothing else inside the subject has been altered.
Confirmation: Memories and core identity remain unaltered.
Warning: The subject will perceive everything as real.
Directive: Enjoy the New World. Second chance protocols initiated.
The System has awoken within you. [Nur] is a world unimaginable power awaits. You, Ethan, have the chance to become extraordinary.
A [Quest] approaches!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Sensitivity]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Perception]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Myriad Tongue]!
Ding! Please brace for loss of consciousness!
“What in the god-fucking-damned hell—?” Ethan muttered, then fell unconscious. When Ethan woke up again, a screen flashed in front of him.
Please select your preferred Class...
The screen, Ethan found, didn’t elicit any reaction out of him. It wasn’t shocking, nor unbelievable, it was just as if it was a universal truth he’d come to believe since childhood. Like a phone’s existence, or the internet, perhaps. The fact that he thought that way made him sigh. He just hoped anything else inside him hadn’t been changed.
Ethan looked through the page that appeared in front of him.
[Warrior (Common)]
Function: Frontline combatant
Prerequisite: None
Description: A Common-Ranked Class. Grants basic proficiency with all melee weapon types (sword, spear, ax, etc.)
Specialization Paths: Available after further training and/or meeting certain requirements: [Barbarian], [Knight], [Paladin], [Cavalryman], [Mercenary] (and more)
[Archer (Common)]
Function: Ranged Damage Dealer
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic proficiency with bows and arrows.
Specialization Paths:
Adjacent: Unlockable after further training: [Thief], [Assassin] (and more)
Advanced: Upon reaching specific requirements: [Spirit Archer], [Magic Archer] (and more)
[Mage (Common)]
Function: Ranged Magic User
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic application of magical abilities.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after further study: [Warlock], [Alchemist], [Summoner] (and more)
[Healer (Common)]
Function: Support - Restoration and Enhancement
Prerequisite: A [Faith].
Description: Devoted healer, blessed with divine magic, requires [Faith] in a deity. A healer’s heart heals the spirit of ailing beings, providing great spiritual buffs. Can heal wounds and ailments of allies. Can enhance allied attributes and resistances.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after advanced training (may vary by race or deity): [Temple Priest], [Battle Medic], [Nature Mender] (and more)
After looking through the available Classes, it didn’t take long for Ethan to immediately dismiss both the [Healer] and [Warrior]. [Healer] would be too weak unless he got to its Specialization Paths—not to mention he’d need to have faith in some god, which he did not—and [Warrior] meant he’d need to be close range all the time. Ethan didn’t like risk, thus that idea went to waste as fast as a blade through butter. That left him with two options, and a more or less clear idea of which choice to make.
[Archer] was dismissed for the sole reason that it didn’t appeal to him much, although he was indeed curious as to why it had [Thief] and [Assassin] as its Adjacent Specialization Paths. Regardless, there was only one choice left: Mage—something he’d have chosen anyway given that the system had given him [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], although he’d yet to test those skills out. They seemed passive anyway.
Ethan selected his chosen Class.
Congratulations! You are now an [Unranked Mage].
You are capable of casting minor, beginner-level magics.
You can use magical implements and perform incantations with limited versatility.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Basic Magic Script]!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Elemental Spells]!
Due to your [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity], the effectiveness of magical spells and skills are now increased by 10%!
“That’s it?” Ethan blinked. “I would’ve expected, I don’t know, for my entire body to feel on fire, or something.”
Not that he ever had that happen in his life. Fiction really put false expectations into his mind.
Theodore Lockheart
[Race: Human]⨽[Rank: G]⨽[Level: 0]
[Class: Mage]⨽[Rank: Unranked]⨽[Level: 0]
[Skills]: Basic Magic Script (Lvl. 1), Elemental Spells (Lvl. 1), Magic Sensitivity (Lvl. 1), Magic Perception (Lvl. 1), Myriad Tongue (Lvl. 1)
[Titles: None]
Ethan sifted through the skills to better understand what he could do now.
Basic Magic Script – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: This skill allows you to understand and write basic magical notation of the world. Connection Effect: [Basic Magic Script] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills [Magic Perception], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Elemental Spells – Level 1
Type: Active
Effect: You can cast basic elemental spells. At this level, your spells are limited in power and complexity.
Magic Sensitivity – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You possess a heightened awareness of magical energies in your immediate surroundings. You can feel faint tingles or experience subtle temperature changes when magic is being used nearby. This ability helps you identify areas with magical activity or sense the presence of magic. However, pinpointing the exact source or nature of the magic might be difficult at this level.
Magic Perception – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can see the underlying runes whenever a spell is cast in front of you. However, deciphering complex spells to view their runes will likely be blurry or misleading at this level***. Connection Effect:*** [Magic Perception] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills, [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Myriad Tongue – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can understand and speak all the languages of this world. This skill allows you to communicate with most of the species you encounter. Complex conversations will likely require further development of this skill. Connection Effect: [Myriad Tongue] has established a Connection with [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you an inherent understanding of the runic language of magic.
Holy... So, this world’s really like a game, huh? There are no stats, though. Why? Ethan rubbed his chin. The skills were nice. Ethan was excited to test his skills out when someone knocked once on the door and entered. “My lord,” said the man Ethan quickly recognized as one of his advisors, Cedric, “I’ve received notice that the duke’s men have begun their journey from the Capital.” He bowed. “They’re coming to collect tax.”
Saying so, Cedric left Ethan to ponder.
Tax? What?
In this world of swords and spells, tax consisted of the rarest of monster parts and materials. Priceless Relics were found in the Deadlands just out the border—lands that were full of dangers of the highest caliber, along with endless rewards. And because these materials and items were all of a higher value, not paying tax could easily put a small town like this into debt, unless the town managed to somehow attract a wealthy and profitable industry or find themselves a noble willing to spend his coin to help their people.
Such a noble couldn’t be Theo, clearly. After all, he was just a run-of-the-mill spoiled brat from a prominent aristocratic family—the typical wastrel born lucky into money and power without ever needing to work a single day in his entire life.
Regardless, the tax was Ethan’s issue now, and he wasn’t ready to deal with it given that Theo already had quite a debt in the first place.
Ethan’s eyes deadened.
Next >
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I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

So for the past month I've been suffering for I'm guessing a bad flare up in my stomach. I was taking 40mg of omeprazole and a few months ago was feeling great, eating the food I loved so I made the dumb mistake to stopped taking them cold turkey. Well a month ago I had the worst acid dump and wreaked havoc in my stomach and esophagus. I had this happen a year ago and I stopped eating and lost 20lbs. Now I feel like I'm going down the same rabbit hole.
They symptoms are feeling like a roll of dough in the top middle of my abdomen. Pretty much my stomach area. I still have the burning sensation in my esophagus and tongue. I constantly have esophagus spasms that are driving me nuts. Keeps me up all night and gives me anxiety. Also when I eat something and when the good goes down my esophagus and right when it hits the sphincter it feels like it gets stuck for a second and then feels like it scraps it while going down into my stomach. I'm beginning to lose weight again. I do feel like I have an hemorrhoid so now having trouble passing stools. I'm in constant fight or flight mode. Body fatigue, feeling symptoms of dehydration, brain fog, when I get excited my heart rate begins to race and I feel like lava running through my vains, my throat feels tight at times and stings that comes and goes, the constant belching, can't sleep at night due to a rush of tightness that rushes in the middle of my chest that comes and goes like every 2 minutes 🥺.
I suffer from health anxiety so the first thought is stomach or esophageal cancer but from I'm getting told from people that has experienced this that it could possibly be gastritis, peptic ulcer, esophagitis at times my stomach feels inflamed when I drink water. Even when I talk I get short of breath 😟
I force myself to ear but before I do I start to get nauseated but then when I do eat I eat all my food as if I was hungry. Anxiety?? Just wanting to see some of yalls thoughts
A year ago I've gotten blood work, xrays, ultrasounds, barium swallow, stool samples, and a CT scan and all have come back negative for cancer so why can't I trust the results. If it's an ulcer how long does it take to heal and does it give you flu like symptoms when it flares up?

i’m usually a viewer on reddit but i would like to share my experience with everyone here in case it helps someone else feel less alone or can help anyone out.
i had a quite minor flare( to me back then it seemed major because my skin was never as angry and inflamed as it was) in september and went to the dermatologist and he prescribed me triamcinalone and i used two tubes of it, so twice a day for around 3 weeks, applying generous amounts. this wasn’t the first time i had used topical steroids, had been using g them on and off since i was around 9 (i am currently 18). it was usually triamcinalone twice a day and some other higher potency steroid once a day.
even though i had only used the triamcinalone for three weeks ish, once i stopped, i started flaring on places i never even thought my eczema would spread to, including my FEET and my back and face and even around my chest, which i always had close to perfect skin on. my problem areas, as most people, were the backs of my knees and the creases of my elbows. in january, my dermatologist put me on rinvoq. it has been 5 months that i am on rinvoq and for me it worked, but it has not been a miracle drug. the first 2 weeks - around 10 weeks, was when i noticed the most progress, but i still had problems around my neck and such. another thing i noticed with rinvoq is that it makes me super sensitive to everything around me, including my dog that i was never allergic to and the sun. i am currently in the process of switching to dupixent.
throughout these 6 months i have made major lifestyle changes. slowly started to cut out dairy and gluten and i have been 100% dairy and gluten free for ten weeks now. i also dont eat sesame, nuts and seafood and i try to avoid soy and sugar as much as i can.
along with this, i try to eat foods that have healthy fats, and i mostly only eat whole foods. i know this seems hard and i thought it was impossible but nothing tastes good enough to compensate for the itching and the burning skin. since i am 18, i still go out but when i do go out, i try to limit myself to certain foods since most places use seed oils, usually chipotle is a great option. i get brown rice, both beans, chicken, green salsa and lettuce. i used to get fajitas corn and pico but i stopped because peppers and tomatoes are nightshades and corn is not very good for you. i also drink loads of green tea since it lowers immunoglobulin e and has many other health benefits.
the best advice i can probably give is 1. to heal your gut 2. have a good skincare regimen 3. sleep a lot
i dont see many people sharing their specific skincare routine so ill share mine.
i wash my face with a la roche posay cleanser around once every 2-3 days. then 1. la roche posay thermal spring water 2. hyalyronic acid (good molecules) 3. squalene (the ordinary) 4. byoma recovery oil 5. rosehip seed oil (the ordinary) 6. la roche posay eczema soothing cream 7. mineral sunscreen (good molecules)
the steps with brands in parentheses are the ones i use, but as long as it’s that ingredient. i think any brand should be fine. i know it seems like a lot but i dont don’t do all steps at once and if you want a simple routine i would suggest just using rosehip seed oil from the ordinary and a good moisturizesunscreen. i love the ordinary rosehip seed oil i have repurchased around 5-6 times. 100% recommend, super gentle and moisturizing and DOES NOT sting.
good luck to anyone reading this, i know its hard but i try to remember that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and maybe one day we can leave the house without an entire tube of moisturizer ❤️❤️

Don't get me wrong, the services aren't bad.. I'm talking mostly ER. Whether it's St.Joes, Childrens, or Mac, the ER has around 30 nurses and 1 doctor circulation at a time... I went in for what ended up being a very simple lung thing, and took 4-5 hours to be seen on a holiday.
The guy who was in before me with either appendicitis or kidney stones wasn't seen until around a minute before I had my x ray 3 hours after I walked in! He was puking, moaning, and clearly in SO much pain! How are registered nurses not able to take a damn MRI and check the guy in for whatever he has! Give the guy morphine! My gosh I was coughing up my lungs, and the only people that were seen quickly were the ones brought in by the cops in handcuffs.
Is there a reason why there's always a delay, and mostly just in Hamilton? I've been to these hospitals so many times for family's fractures, stomach issues, bleeding, chest pain, etc—nothing ever seems to be urgent. Is there a shortage of Eurgent care doctors? Why can't Registered nurses step in when a doctor can't?

Since around 2/14/24 I started with what I thought was a UTI. Urgency and frequency to urinate, coupled with that stinging tingling effect you get in the urethra. I did not have a UTI but my pain continued to persist and compound each day. When I wake up in the morning I barely have any pain but the more I move the more pain I get. The worst is in the car sitting in the low frequency vibration is a nightmare.
It feels like the most uncomfortable itching/tingling/pinching/burning almost of a sensitive internal area. Which then leads to and adds to the pain. It builds up throughout the day and eventually hits a ceiling where it just feels the pain/stinging/tingle radiating throughout my body. My feet, legs, chest, arms, chin. Nothing is off limits.
I have taken every test and lab since February, including: x-ray, MRI with contrast, cystoscopy, CT scan, ultrasound and all sorts of labs. I am healthy. I’ve seen multiple doctors from multiple practices to get second opinions. And they all lead to I’m healthy, not stone obstruction, no issue with the bladder etc.
I should mention I’ve had frequent kidney stones. The last situation was July 2023 and it was the first time I had to get surgery - a ureteroscopy and stent.
However, I am left with a pelvic floor doctor and pelvic floor physical therapist. I have seen the pelvic floor physical therapist eight times now. And very little of the exercises and breathing techniques work to dissipate my pain. We have narrowed the area down to pain in the muscles and tissues in and surrounding my urethra and bladder. They say it’s due to a tight pelvic floor muscles and pain memory in the tissue from my many kidney stones.
The pelvic floor doctor put me on a very high dose of gabapentin. It dulled my pain and my life. I got super tired and moody. So I just switched to Lyrica a few days ago.
I do not believe my pain is due to a tight pelvic floor for two reasons: 1) the pelvic floor PT did a connective tissue massage on my left flank that truly disrupted and irritated what I think is my ureter. It felt like internal bruising. After that pain flare for 2 days, then the bladder pain ignited. And 2) I have baclofen vaginal suppositories and this crap is not working. if I had a tight muscle wouldn’t my muscle relaxer suppository is supposed to help relax a tight muscle? It doesn’t make sense.
Anyway, sorry for the long note. I’m just frustrated and questioning everything I feel like I have the top of top doctors and I’m very lucky for that but I just have a hard time believing this is a tight pelvic floor thing. I think it’s more of kidney, bladder, or urethra situation. I started questioning the doctors and they just told me to take a break for a few weeks. I bought into the pelvic floor thing for about 2 1/2 months and I’m not any better than I was before I started. Any thoughts or suggestions that anyone has I would love to hear.
I should also add that I’m a 37-year-old female. With no pregnancies or trauma to the area. The only surgery I had was the ureteroscopy last summer.

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

Name: U.S.E.C [REDACTED] Callsign: Reaper Location: Hideout Time: 1200 Hours
Fuck, just fuck. I didn't think things could get any worse, but the world has a funny way of proving people wrong. I'm currently writing this with a fucking hole in my arm and leg, but let's get to the important shit. I managed to get ahold of those powerful individuals I heard about, they're some interesting characters. They said they could hook me up with supplies and gear, but it's all going to be at a cost of course. That isn't a problem for me, I'm used to working for my pay. Some of these folks seem like they aren't half bad, including this old Soviet who goes by the name of "Prapor". He's an old-school no bullshit kind of guy, I respect that. But as I was saying, shit isn't always sunshine and rainbows, I got jumped by some guy who could have been a ghost. I barely heard him coming and it was way too late, he had his barrel right against my head. Luckily for me, he seemed to be some kind of religious nut, talking about how I'm some sort of chosen one. He calls himself Artem and says he wants to help me get the hell out of this hell hole so I'm not going to complain too much, plus he didn't kill me.
After getting into contact with these people they asked me to go back to the last fucking place I want to go, Ground Zero for me. That business center can get burned to the ground for all I care, I can't hardly sleep without that place in my dreams. But I knew I needed to go back, I had left Dozer dead on the fucking concrete. He deserved better, especially after he saved my ass. Getting back on track, one of the people who calls himself "Mechanic" took interest in the fact that I worked for United Security. He told me about some guy who had been leaking information, he apparently used to work with him. I had heard something about a mole in the business but that wasn't my problem, Terra Group can burn for all I care about. I entered the A.O. from the west through an underground structure and went to work, I wish I had known what the hell I was getting into.
I took a bit of time to search through some old discarded crates for some supplies, I need to get this fucking hideout actually liveable. While I was looting, I heard sporadic gunfire, meaning I was far from alone, time to go to work. I pushed out and made my way east at first, dropping the first target I saw. As I continued up the hill, bullets were sailing over my head between the two buildings and I knew there was no way in hell I was walking into a crossfire so I fell back. Once I had repositioned, I pushed up, keeping myself against a building. I heard English from my front and I felt hope that maybe I wasn't alone until the buckshot tore past me and bounced off my armor. I planted myself against a pillar and returned fire, 3 shots into the chest of a P.M.C. from my own faction. It didn't make any sense, I was getting attacked by my own people, I killed 4 of my own fucking side. I continued on, knowing that if I stayed still for too long I was dead.
After a few sporadic gunfights and a lot of running, I made it to the Terra Group main office. I entered in through the garage and found a bunch of my own guys dead, they must have been the ones looking for the mole. I pushed through the building, looking around the first floor of the devastated building checking bodies. I almost missed the guy, he was half buried under the rubble, but his name tag checked out, Searching his corpse I didn't find the hard drive, but he did have his office key. One quick search and easter egg later, I managed to find his damn hard drive. Making my way out the front door, I started to leave before stopping dead in my tracks. My eyes fell on a familiar image, Dozer, stripped of his gear but still left there like a discarded piece of garbage. I started to move forward to try and make things right until a bullet ripped through my shoulder. Snapping back to reality I staggered back before sprinting to cover and shoved some hemostat into my arm. Dispatching the son of a bitch who shot me, I continued on to try and do some scouting for Prapor, finding the HMG he wanted me to find but I got cut short when I started looking for the GMG. After several plate hits, several dead hostiles, and a new hole in my leg I pushed over to an SUV some shady dude named Skier told me to use.
After dragging myself inside and paying the guy I managed to leave the area, my mind is a fucking mess right now. While I was unpacking my shit I found a note slipped into my bag from some B.E.A.R. that claims to have been at the business center when Dozer died. I'm guessing he dropped this note when I was at Mechanic's shop giving him the hard drive, it makes sense that other guys would be looking for work. I don't know if I should trust the guy or not, he claims to want to work together and that he is trapped here like me. I wouldn't have thought that the Russians would have left their attack dogs behind, but then again, aren't we all expendable? I'll have to tell Mechanic to reach out to this guy for me, it would make sense to get as many allies as I can right now, we're both soldiers who were following orders, and now, now we can make our own choices. My fucking leg is killing me right now, pretty sure there's still some pieces of jacket left in my leg. I'll have to head over to the resident doctor "Therapist"'s place tomorrow, she's probably going to be a little pissed that I didn't bring her what she asked for, but I'm not dying over bandages. Fuck, I really need to get some sleep, why am I even still wri

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what a biogas plant is, how it works or what they're actually used for allow me to educate you. A biogas plant produces natural gas, or rather a substitute for natural gas, from fermented corn silage as well as other agricultural waste products. Farmers, such as myself, would bring in silage which we would unload into a large concrete bunker silo, basically just a big walled in pit. The plant I delivered to used a modified snowcat to push the silage around and pack it down evenly in the pit. Once one pit filled up they would tarp it and leave it to ferment and move on to the next pit. Once a pit was fully fermented they would uncover it and use a large wheel loader to shovel the fermented silage into what's called an anaerobic digester. It's basically just a big tank with an agitator that you fill up with a bunch of organic matter and heat it up which produces methane gas as the microorganisms inside begin to break everything down. This gas is then captured and can be used for basically everything natural gas is used for already but it's supposed to be better for the environment or something. These plants are way more common in Europe but they have started to pop up here in North America as well. And yes, before you ask, these places smell worse than you could possibly imagine.
I always thought it was a little bit weird that they built one way up here in Northern Alberta but since the large dairy farm I worked at pretty much always had an excess of corn silage every year, we certainly welcomed another place to sell it to especially since they're not picky. Trying to sell to another dairy farmer is always a hassle because they're always concerned with the quality, as they should be if they're feeding it to their cows, but the biogas plant basically just needs organic matter, it doesn't really matter what it is. If it can decompose you can make gas out of it.
Last fall we had an exceptionally good corn harvest to the point where we still had 4 more fields still to harvest by the time we had enough to feed the cows for the next year. As I said this isn't uncommon. When you're harvesting corn for silage you use a totally different harvester. Rather than a combine that separates out the actual corn kernels from the rest of the plant you use a forage harvester which is essentially a giant woodchipper on wheels that takes in the whole crop and shreds it up. Since corn can easily grow 10 feet high and you spread that over a few thousand acres you get a crazy high volume of silage coming in. Upon realizing how much excess we had my boss did what he always did and called up the plant who as always agreed to take in what we didn't need. The next morning rather than trucking back to the farm we were instructed to head straight over to the plant once our trailers had filled up.
I arrived with my first load at the plant around 10 am. A man wearing a high vis jacket directed me onto the large scale they used to weigh the trucks coming in and out. "Good harvest this year Jim?" The friendly old lady in the scalehouse said as she took down the weight of my loaded truck. I felt bad as I had been delivering to this plant on and off for the last 8 years I had worked on Mr. Baker's dairy farm but I couldn't remember, or I'd just never learned her name. Oh well, I certainly wasn't going to out myself now. "Well if we're delivering here you know it's a good one," I replied. "And there's plenty more where this came from." "Glad to hear it!" She smiled back at me handing me my paperwork. "Now you just head right on down to the back there and the boys will show you where to dump" "Thank you," I said taking the papers from her and putting my truck back into gear.
I pulled off the scale and made my way to the back of the plant where the big concrete pits are. Some more men in high vis gear directed me to back into a specific one. The giant pit was only about half full at the this point but the mountain of silage in my rear view mirrors still looked to be about 30 feet deep at its highest point. As usual they had me back up until my trailer started to climb the pile a bit. this way there were no gaps in the pile and the snowcat wouldn't have to do as much pushing. As I watched the back wheels of my trailer roll on to the silage pile in my mirrors I heard the unmistakable sound of a tire blowing out. A loud pop and then a slow hiss that quickly dissipated. "Shit!" I thought to myself as I hopped out to inspect the damage. One of the workers had also come to see what had happened.
"Must be one of your inside tires" he said to me as I approached, "all the outside ones look fine." I bent down and looked under the truck, sure enough he was right. The inside tire on the right side of the rear axle was completely flat. "Well I suppose that's why semi trucks have dual wheels," I said trying to sound unfazed while simultaneously preparing myself for the ass chewing I was bound to receive for this later. I walked around to the back of the truck to inspect the damage further and saw what had punctured my tire. I stumbled back a bit as I realized it was what appeared to be a broken bone sticking out of the tire. "What the..." I said mostly to myself but the worker must've heard too as it caused him to look down at it as well. When he did his face went white for a second then he composed himself. "Well I'll be damned," he said, "I've been here since the plant opened and I ain't never seen that before, some uh, poor animal must've gone through the forage harvester, or uh, some farmer's dog must've dug it up and dropped it in their silo." He seemed real shifty as he said this and almost seemed like he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying but I brushed it off as I figured he was probably just as shocked as I was.
While I was still able to unload I did have to leave the truck and trailer at the plant that night. A mobile tire repair service would be out in the morning to get it all fixed up. I got a ride back to the farm with our next truck to arrive at the plant and finished out the day pressure washing the manure spreaders. No doubt a reward for my efforts that day. I had to take a good long shower at the farm office before getting in my truck to head home for the night. As I started the engine I went to pull my phone out of my pocket to plug it in to the charger and realized that I didn't have it. I padded all my other pockets, nope definitely not there. I then realized that I had likely left it in the semi which was now at the plant, probably locked behind a gate for the night. Logically I could have just waited till morning to go and retrieve it. I was probably just going to go straight to bed when I got home anyway so what did I need my phone for? But because humans now have separation anxiety from their phones burned into them at age 3 I found myself pulling out on to the road in the direction of the plant rather than home. I hoped there would be some friendly night security guard that would let me in to grab it and I'd be on my way in 5 minutes.
I reached the plant just as it was getting dark and indeed there was a security guard standing at the gate as I pulled up. A very heavily armed security guard. He had what looked like a military rifle slung over his back and I wondered what on earth he needed that for. They were very illegal for civilians to own here in the great white north so they must've had a damn good reason to arm their security like this for the government to let them do it. He looked rather intimidating but surprisingly was not at all antagonistic when I rolled down my window. "Are you lost partner?" He said in a rather friendly tone. "No, no, I work for one of the farms that delivers here," I said, "My truck blew a tire on the trailer earlier today and it's still sitting over by pit 3 and I think I left my phone in the cab, do you mind if I go check?" He gave me a suspicious look, then he peered into the pickup bed and generally looked over me and my truck, then he gazed off down the road and looked at his watch. "Alright you got 10 minutes, and try and stay out of the night shift's way" he said in a much less friendly tone.
A loud click and then a buzzing sound came from the gate as it began to move and I drove through it. By now it was almost completely dark but the large spotlights of the plant made it easy to navigate. I came around the corner and saw my truck still sitting across from pit 3 and I pulled up in front of it. As I got out I noticed that there was a large excavator up on top of the pile in pit 4. I knew it was digging into the silage but I couldn't really see what it was doing properly because the concrete wall that separated pits 3 and 4 partially obscured it. I could also see the roof of the snowcat peeking up over the wall. It must've been parked a little ways away on top of the pile and I figured it must've gotten stuck and they were using the excavator to try and get it out. I paid it little attention as I entered the cab of the semi truck and quickly found my phone in the cupholder. I grabbed it and just as I was climbing down a voice called out to me.
"Hey who the fuck are you?? And what are you doing here???" A disgruntled looking worker wearing the same high vis gear was running towards me. "I just left my phone in this truck here, the security guard let me in to grab it" I stammered backing up towards my pickup. "Of course he fucking did" the man grumbled and he snatched his radio out of his jacket pocket. "Peter what the hell did you let this dumbass in here for you can't be doing that!" He shouted into the radio. "Relax they're not even here yet" the guard's voice crackled through the radio. "Umm actually I see headlights if he's got his phone tell him to get out of there." The man looked back to me. "You heard him son get lost and don't come back here after delivery hours again you got it?" I nodded and climbed back into my pickup truck and began to drive back towards the gate. As I exited the guard waved to me from behind the big black GMC Yukon that had pulled up to the gate. He appeared to be talking to the driver. There was a large U-Haul truck behind it followed by another black Yukon. As I passed the last vehicle I noticed in my rear view mirror the 3 trucks enter the plant ad the guard shutting the gate behind them.
That whole situation did not sit right with me. On the drive home I contemplated everything that I had seen and heard from the guard and the other worker. They were up to something in that plant at night that maybe even the bosses didn't know about. My best guess was it was some kind of drug operation. If movies have taught me anything drug kingpins always drive black SUVs. I know I should have left it alone but life up here in Northern Alberta was so boring my curiosity ended up getting the better of me. I thought that I could help bring down some kind of criminal organization and be a local hero, and that worst case scenario nothing was happening and nothing would come of it.
After harvest concluded I had a couple of days off to rest as we'd been working pretty crazy hours lately. I however did not rest. I was trying to find out everything I could about the plant and the people who ran it. I really couldn't find anything about it, in fact it was as if the place didn't exist. You would think there would at least be a news story from when they built the place what with it being the biggest boost to the local economy and job market our town had ever seen and all but there was nothing. Finally I decided the only thing to do was to see if I could observe what those black SUVs and the U-Haul truck were doing in the plant at night. Maybe get some photos of the exchange and hand them off to the police. I did some poking around on Google maps and found an old logging road that ran across the ridge behind the plant. There was a little dirt area where people often parked to unload their ATVs to go riding in the woods up there that was maybe only a kilometre or so from the north side of the plant.
I drove up there just before dark and hiked down through the woods all the way to the north fence of the plant. It was just a chain link fence like you'd see around a schoolyard not a barbed wire prison fence or anything so I made quick work of climbing over it. Luckily for me there was a lot of equipment and old dumpsters and shipping containers in this part of the plant for me to hide behind as I made my way towards where the main gate was. I crouched down behind one of their company trucks parked near the gate and waited about 20 minute before I saw the black SUVs pull up. This time though they didn't have a U-Haul they had a much larger yellow Penske box truck. They must be hauling some serious product to be renting that thing. I watched as the trucks rolled through the gate and much like they had done with me a few days prior the plant workers in high vis gear directed them back towards the pits.
I began to sneak my way over there being careful to stay out of sight. I realized very quickly that I wouldn't be able to get very close while still remaining hidden. The area around the pits was largely wide open to allow to turn around and back in so there was nothing to conceal me as I approached. I noticed the office nearby and had an idea. I snuck over to it and tried the door. It was open but the lights were off inside. Luckily no alarms went off and I found what I came for quickly. A high vis uniform and a white hard hat laying on the break room table. I also grabbed some safety glasses and a dust mask as it wasn't uncommon for the workers to wear them, there was a lot of dust around the pits, and I figured it would help conceal my identity.
After putting on the uniform and sneaking back outside I observed the workers for a few minutes to see what they were doing and how best to blend in. Most of them appeared to either be standing around watching the trucks pull up or walking somewhere so I figured just walking like I was on a mission was good enough. Turns out I didn't need to fake it for long. As I neared the yellow Penske truck I saw some men getting out of the black SUVs. They were dressed in what looked like church robes but definitely not Catholic since they didn't have the collar. One of them turned to me and I froze. "Hey buddy, we got a pretty big load tonight, mind giving us a hand?" Realizing my cover was working I decided to play along and just leave the part about me helping the drug lords out of my statement to the police. I nodded and walked over with the other workers and awaited instructions.
I heard the sound of a diesel engine coming closer and looked over to see the excavator I had seen coming around the corner and begin to climb the silage pile in pit 4 again. The snowcat was behind it but instead of following the excavator up the pile it came towards us. It had some kind of large metal box attached to the blade that was about the size of a small car. The operator set the box down next to the Penske truck and hopped out. The same disgruntled man I had encountered the other night got out of the cab. "Jesus man, that's a big truck you got there, probably gonna take a couple trips to unload this thing," he said to the men in robes. One of them opened up the back of the box truck and where I expected to see a giant pile of cocaine bricks or something there was something I never expected.
Bodies, and lots of them just thrown haphazardly into the back of this truck. I had to fight the urge to fill my dust mask with vomit as I saw them. The workers began loading them into the box on the blade of the snowcat just tossing them on with little regard for how they landed. No one seemed to notice me just standing there so I slowly backed up into the shadows and made my way over to pit 3. It was almost full by now so I climbed up the pile to a spot where I could look over the concrete wall into pit 4 where the excavator was without being spotted. Once up there I saw the snowcat climbing up the pile towards a large hole the excavator had dug in it. There were some more workers up there who began throwing the bodies off into the hole as one of the men in robes climbed out of the passenger seat in the snowcat. He just stood on the track watching as the bodies were piled into this impromptu mass grave they had constructed. He stayed up on the pile while the snowcat went down for the second load.
This was all starting to make sense now. This was the perfect cover for disposing of bodies. They would get broken down in the piles same as everything else and because they were constantly being emptied into the digester the evidence would only be around for a few months, and the horrific smell of the plant would conceal any foul odours produced by the dead bodies. But there was one question left. Where were they coming from? This was way too many bodies for this to be the mafia or something killing off problematic individuals. By the time the truck was totally unloaded there must've been 100 dead people in that hole. No this had to be some cult activities of some sort and the robes the men from the black SUVs were wearing backed up that theory. Maybe these were just what was left over from some sort of ritual sacrifice or something? Whoever these people are they must have some kind of deal with the plant's owners because I could tell the workers had done this before. From the time the truck had arrived to the time the excavator started burying the corpses in rotting corn silage it had only taken about half an hour.
I didn't even bother ditching the uniform I got out of that plant as fast as I could. I sprinted up through those woods back towards my truck with my heart beating so fast I thought it would explode. As soon as I was in the truck I locked all the doors and dialed 911 on speaker as I peeled out of the forest. I told the operator everything that had happened over the last couple of days and what I had seen that night. I practically begged them to send someone there right away which the nice lady on the other end of the line promised they would. She asked for my name and contact information so they could get a hold of me for a statement which I gladly gave them. She assured me they would investigate the matter and I thanked her and hung up the phone. I then pulled over and got out of the truck and proceeded to finally let out all the vomit I had been holding in for the last hour or so. I ditched the plant uniform on the side of that old forest road and made my way for home.
As I was approaching my house I saw a car up ahead. As I drew closer I could make out the distinctive reflective tape they put across the back of police cars. I slowed down as I had come up on him pretty fast and I didn't want to get a speeding ticket after all I'd been through that night. I followed the cop a few more kilometres towards town. My house was on this road coming up shortly. As we approached my driveway the cop put his signal on to turn in. I breathed a sigh of relief as I guessed they had sent someone out to check on me and I was about to put my signal on as well when I noticed the black GMC Yukon parked in my driveway and the man in robes standing next to it with a gun. The cop turned in and parked next to him. Given that the cop had basically zero reaction to the man standing there with a weapon my heart sank as I realized whatever this is runs much, muh deeper than I thought and revealing who I was to that 911 dispatcher had just dommed me. I kept on driving praying that neither of them recognized me and thanking the Alberta government for not requiring front license plates that the cop would have totally seen on the drive over otherwise.
I just kept on driving, expecting at any minute to see police lights behind me or a big black SUV blocking the road ahead of me and men in dark robes coming out of the darkness to get me, but nothing happened. I don;t even know how long I drove for I just drove until I had to pee so badly I was forced to stop at a truck stop and realized I was somewhere in Saskatchewan. I've been on the run so to speak now for about 6 months. I don't know if anyone's even following me but I have to be sure. I'm writing this all out to get it off my chest and out there as a warning before I ditch this phone and start my life over in another province as far away from there as I can get. I don't know what's going on up there but there is something very dark happening in northern Alberta and I've probably only scratched the surface of it. Either way I want no part of any of it.

Hello, I wanted to jump on this band wagon to get this off my chest. Enjoy, Miss Charlotte.
My mom was a very young mom, and she was divorced around the time I was 14 so she is about 34 at that time. She is not an unattractive woman, she’s very beautiful, and I was always very jealous of her growing up (I am the only daughter for reference so I always acknowledged the fact that she is very gorgeous compared to me.)
So after her second divorce, I was in about seventh grade at that time. I had my Ryder die Besty that I’ve known since about second grade at that time. And she was on the same level as me of pettiness, to the degree we just did not trust any type of man around my mom, whatsoever. my girlfriend came from a very strict Russian background, so she was no fool to being strict on everybody else. Whereas I’m pretty laid-back, I just didn’t trust my mom’s opinion. Together we were like a very scary early 2000 Disney movie.
One day at the mall, me and my girlfriend being in seventh grade and so happy and just being at the mall like normal aged girls like us do, my mom came up with this really tall guy. He had a long black ponytail behind his head, all of his, his ears pierced, and had on clothes from hot topic. I seriously didn’t have a problem with that. I was friends with plenty of (KIDS) dress like that and it wasn’t an issue until she introduced him as her boyfriend to me and my best friend (Kathy).
We both give each other very weird looks and say hello and that was pretty much it. My mom started bringing this loser around who was no older than probably 20. I know women through divorce and that have children, have types of self-confidence issues and seek out any attention necessary.
The day came. I was back from visiting with Again, my best friend Kathy. The loser was sitting on my mom’s couch is playinG MY HARRY POTTER ON MY GAME CUBE. it reeked of marijuana and even though I never smoked it, I knew with the sensor and I could see that along with the smells of cigarette smoke radiating all over the place. The guy sitting there with his leg spread apart with Goth pants from hot topic looks up at us and slurrs “sup.” We’re in awe at this point. This pony tailed man proceeds to get up and show off his new BELLY BUTTON PIERCING.
Kathy and I went outside. We had a child conversion and made a pact…..Were literally going to make this weird guys life hell until he leaves my moms house.
The next two weeks of me and Kathy being there have made this life genuinely hell. He was obviously a cigarette smoker, we accidentally spilled all of the pots for the plants all over the cigarettes on the balcony patio. The marijuana had mysteriously disappeared. The beers he had we put in the freezer and they exploded which resulted in an argument between him and her. We signed him up for gay dating sites that would email him and also call his phone. My mom was like a super hacker paranoid person so we knew that would probably be a good fix. I mean, the belly button piercing was already a giveaway, right? Every time my mom would leave she would tell him she left him lunch in the oven so while he was high and passed out, we would as much white pepper all over anything that was there in the oven or put a ton of salt in it. We would be maniacally laughing hearing him, cough from the other room and it was obviously not from the Weeeeeed. so after about only two weeks, he disappeared.
He never gave my mom a reason why he changed his phone number. This was a long time ago when we still had dial up Internet so she was left without an excuse. However, Kathy and I both knew exactly what we did and we did it every single day until he left. I know that sounds evil but we were taking care of my mom. Now she’s with a fabulous guy who treats her amazing. But I guess our . I know that sounds evil but we were taking care of my mom. Now she’s with a fabulous guy who treat her amazing. But I guess…. Are we the assholes?