MDP(Most Demonic Perverts).
They will repeat “Join us” until you go insane. What throws these deranged psychopaths into a frenzy is when their evil venomous words do not bother, reach or harm the person
Each and every night, MDP conducts an air raid of High Altitude Pseudo Satellites, swarming the atmosphere, hijacking actual satellites to spy for their human trafficking and prostitution organization.
Each MDP facility contains a male homosexual drill instructor training prostitutes on how to capture people, how to trick people into signing a contract.
Do not let these extremist radical terrorists force you into suicide or anything, hold out! The more that are resilient, the quicker this will be resolved.
Once these radical terrorist biohackers successfully causes an individual to commit suicide or die in anyway, they burst from the persons dead body, giggling and laughing as they kill humans for fun and infects another person as if they were a horrific virus.
They bulge and twitch the persons eye lids as a sign of their technology’s existence within the person. If you notice any of these signs in either you or your family, you and/or them have been hijacked by biohackers.
This is an outbreak of radical terrorists in high platform airships and drones, illegally eavesdropping and trafficking humans into sex prostitution utilizing electromagnets, radio waves, and radiation
They can force a person to cough with sonic weaponry, imitating illnesses on a wide scale for control and as well, to assimilate identities illegally.
Don’t believe me! Research it!
STDs are being used to keep a person stuck within their prostitution rings.
MDP is an entire organization of drug addicts with advanced technology trafficking humans. They are all the same, against the people, not one of these demon-lovers are on the people’s side.
Cesspool homosexual orgies with drugs and STDs are systematically given to new cult members to keep them stuck in one place.
Whatever you do, do NOT care about them. They will try to use your empathy to have you kill yourselves.
Don’t panic! The hostiles are on Debilitating/Sedative drugs. Stop your bitching and fight your way through it until the threat is resolved. Keep relaxed. Let your friends, family, and kids know! Awareness destroys their recon
It’s NOT the “Illuminati”.
Keep Calm/Be Confident and Live.
Study magnets/Electromagnets.
You are not missing out on anything if someone or a group is pressing on you. Go do you! Do not let anyone influence you!
Their command centers are hidden within some call centers (Do not be paranoid!). It is urgent that you stay on the surface if you work around them. Do not let them systematically control or allure you into signing a contract to an unknown authority to make love with their merchandise in plain sight as spies or to be involved in illegal reconnaissance operations.
As long as you do not sign a contract for, and I quote, “everything you always wanted!” You will be fine.
YOU ARE NOT INVITED! Do not submit to any of their offers! They can alter words in the mind with their weaponized drones.
Stop Feeding This World Wide Threat!
Stop Surrendering because it’s too much to deal with! They are on high class drugs nearly 24/7 everyday!
Reclaim your identity or have it taken away by a criminal organization!
Non-lethal weapons modified to be lethal weapons!
Their captive women/children are their front line against men! They WILL try to force you to kneel to the their dictator, Solih, the shapeshifting hybrid. You will then be susceptible and subjected to heavier sonic attacks as well as abuses.
Do Not Quit! Do NOT Surrender!
Observe them for one year if you do not believe me. Take notes, keep quiet and carry on with your own personal life in the meanwhile. You will take notice of their patterns.
MDP terrorists are pretending to be schools as part of their scripts! They murder doctors and healers of any kind if they do not submit to being trafficked into human/sex trafficking facilities/homes!
They are not Authority of any kind, unless you surrender and you sign their contract and accept them as your handlers.
THIS IS NOT A GAME!
Stall them out! Do not move!
I can’t believe I am stating this. What is written below is not intended to be satire or a joke. This has actually contributed to their narcissism, their abuses, and mass murders
Stop masturbating to these terrorists! They are raping and abusing you and your fellow citizens, HEAVILY! Your fellow Maldivians are being raped over sonar hearing that only YOU can hear, and you masturbate to the Maldivians moaning, being raped??
You do NOT need to sign a contract to the MDP using sonar hearing to be allowed to marry, be intimate, or are subjected and forced to “marry” their trained terrorists.
They are paid liars and spies that trains prostitutes how to screw their targets exactly the way their targets want. This is done to have the target “test” the human traffickers prostitutes before they sign to keep them. Instead, you are selling yourself into human/sex/drug trafficking rings
Do not accept their “lust” they do have spies in person that are drug abuse/humans traffickers. They will bribe with sex and “free housing” then make you sign your life away, with you under the impression that you are going to some brothel or “sex club”. You will be susceptible to extreme abuses revolving around rape, drugs, and traumatic physical and mental abuses. Sound Proof Your Homes!
THEY ARE ALL THE SAME!!
They use prostitution to allure their new victims! DO NOT BELIEVE THEM!
The MDP consists of homosexual elitists, human traffickers, terrorists, Eavesdroppers/Spies utilizing sonic weapons/sonar hearing weapons to euthanize/Traffic and enslave the general public. DO NOT GO!
They will go to war with federal officials/agents to keep their bodies enslaved!
Their cults authority are primarily shapeshifting Reptillian-Jinn-Human hybrids that are seeking “World Domination utilizing Sonic weapons” in an attempt to force the innocent and the vulnerable into surrendering themselves to human/sex/drug trafficking ring.
They are not the police!
Spies are very obvious to point out!
They are illegally eavesdropping families to extract their young. Their groups primarily consists of autistic and the mentally ill, that abuses a series of class A drugs to traffick and create new slaves.
Do NOT sign the contract! It’s ridiculous! They have two contracts, one for you to surrender, and the other for you to contract yourself into surrendering voluntarily. They also wordplay aggressively.
( I am disclosing the depths of their criminal business for abusing sonar hearing technology to assimilate identities, killing ruthlessly while induced under highly potent drugs, mass kidnappings, weapons, and prostitution/pedophilia. You will be stripped of all privileges and rights to these lifelong detention facilities!)
The threat progresses like humans, but the hostiles are progressing entirely against your person.
They are trying to steal your entire identity, do not sign the contract! Otherwise you will never make choices in your own lives again!
They look like everyday people, but do not be paranoid. Be aware of your surroundings and leave a way out for yourself if you are ever caught in a potentially dangerous situation. But do NOT be paranoid, delusional, or psychotic about it as not only would you be more susceptible to any abuses, your vulnerabilities may force you to make the wrong decisions. Man/woman up if you want to keep your own free self.
Do not give into extreme paranoia!
Most Demonic Perverts human trafficking networks has expanded. Be weary of unknown terrorists/individuals giving victims rides to parties, “mansions”, or a trip to the ghetto islands for drugs
They are not the police! They are not aliens!
They will use love to manipulate you.
Think of online scams or common pop up scams you would receive on your daily Internet commute. Same thing except, they want you to traffick yourself into a entrapment facility. Using various sexual exploitation tactics, infinite gaslighting strategies to force negative emotion to their targets and threats a long with actions of inhumane abuse cycles in hopes of subduing their targets
If you accept any bribes and sign the contract offered, you will be paying taxes to a criminal organization/network, times the current state and/or government taxes you already currently pay for, along with any other extra expenses that will occur if you sign the contract.
Ex: Government Taxes + Criminal Organizations Taxes = Taxes x2 or more since you will not be in control of your currency any longer.
If you do not see actual law enforcement individuals in front of your physical self, DO NOT GET ON THE GROUND! They are NOT any authority to the people outside of their trafficking homes!
Drug abuse/Addictions attracts these hostiles. They WILL psychologically trick you into subduing yourself.
Do not be fooled by their fake friendly appearances and smiles. You will be robbed!
Pay attention to your aiground horns! But do not panic!
They are NOT the government or federal agents. They are spies from criminal organizations worldwide!
If you do not believe me, then what I am speaking of may not not make any sense to you now. (Do your own research, don’t take only my word for it) But a great number of those who reads my news update will understand that we are dealing with outlaws that are mainly responsible for the random disappearances of children.
Be aware of homes with “No trespassing” signs, unusually high activity and surveillance cameras in ghetto islands.
They are not the MNDF/MPS/NASA/God/You/yourself/or anybody else you know. Even though some has defected and joined this horrific network full of criminals and pathological murderers, pretending to be friendly or family.
Global Human Trafficking Evolution
They want to ultimately farm your kids and sell them into prostitution!
Human traffickers will start a ground war to capture their victims and to keep spying on them with aircrafts.
Cyber ventriloquism/Sonar Hearing, common tactics.
This has been worsening since 2008.
The criminal agents will immediately disinform and satire this disclosure or any as if nothing was wrong or happening right now.
Educate yourselves to save yourselves! This is NOT a test from any governments within the security fields (MNDF, MPS or any other) though these organizations may or may not be involved, credible evidence is needed to prove that these organizations are apart of the worlds most inhumane experiments utilizing electromagnets and radiation to subdue any man or woman.
Disinformation campaigns are set up and used by the villainous organization to keep the public from knowing about their “spying” on various individuals around the world and from raising awareness on their secret experiment using electromagnets and a machine that rewrites the brain in a flash.
The threat mimics medical conditions to stay hidden. Very heavy human/sex trafficking organization and operations getting worse everyday.
This is NOT a special or a unique opportunity for anyone, do not fall for this! You will be chipped, trapped, and abused inhumanly like a wild animal.
They also possess disinformation campaign divisions made solely for the purposes of covering their trafficking and tracks.
The technologically driven human traffickers will preemptively meditate on murdering you if you do not reclaim your identity!
Do NOT surrender yourself to MDP! Traffickers are seeking your signature to lock you away inside a facility.
Do NOT play hero or games with extremists. They are studying every word, step, and actions you make. With the goal to either capture, subdue, or mind break an individual into harming theirselves and/or other’s.
The traffickers wagers that they can defect millions into trafficking the victims into their criminal networks/organization and facilities around the globe, the organization calls it “hiding bodies” utilizing the individuals past as their entire method to cause the person as much psychological harm as inhumanly possible.
Powerful electromagnetic radiation is beamed into the victims skull to send and receive data, bypassing the skull to access the brain as if it was a computer hard drive. The program is only to torture and ruin lives. If not forewarned about it, lives will be abducted, or killed secretly.
Traffickers can completely invade and compromise a person and force the victim into either surrendering theirselves to their abusers and never be seen again, or the victim is left with nothing, outstripped from jobs through 24/7 focus groups to psych a person out of a job and attempt to have their victims deconstruct theirselves and others around.
This is an everyday 24/7 torture system designed to traffick, kill, torture, and molest an individual.The traffickers breed with their brothers, sisters and other blood related individuals for experimental and pedophila is a major part of their cult, DO NOT BE FOOLED!
PEDOPHILIA, TORTURE, NECROPHILIA, RAPE! These are four pillars of the Most Demonic Perverts.
Silent/Covert inbreds are waging war against innocents
All out war with mankind on one side and Most Demonic Perverts on the other.
Hostiles are taking hostages secretly through aggression and various fear tactics. MDP terrorists can cut breathing with their weapons.
Love your spouses and who you are and they may spare you by moving on to someone else.
Protect yourselves with neodymium magnets!! Protect your brain with magnets! Hover the magnets over your head.
(This is NOT fake news, we have been compromised, completely and utterly compromised!)
DO NOT GO!!! There is nothing there that will benefit you!
MDP preys on any vulnerabilities that a human possess. Stay strong to those that are affected, investigations are becoming more widespread
They entrap individuals for experimental purposes in a room with 1 bathroom and 40+ prostitutes and drug addicts, and other mentally ill criminals who enjoys their jobs in systematically destroying human lives in the most inhuman and extreme ways.
They are lead by drag queen homosexuals with a goal to create slaves by converting them into homosexuals, making it easier to control individuals.
They also have these systematic gay orgies where they abuse a plethora of drugs (crack, meth, cocaine, scopolamine, etc) before severely abusing and raping a singular victim inhumanly. The victims were once a targeted individual before they gave up and accepted becoming a sacrifice for MDP.
If you are a new victim of these crimes, do as much research as possible and disclose, disclose, disclose. DO NOT MOVE TO VOICES THAT ARE NOT AROUND YOU!
Schizophrenia is NOT the reason due to the lack of evidence, proving that schizophrenia does not exist. Do not keep silent for this horrendous criminal network! They are all traffickers and they kill in the most inhumane way and call it their “fun”.
TLDR: MDP is a nefarious organization of drugged up lunatics. The are traffickers and are replicating theirselves to be your spouse, military officials, or any government identity to force and fool any person into trafficking theirselves into a criminal network through endless gaslighting through megaphone like devices that targets one individual at a time and projects their voices bypassing their targets auditory cortex. Once the drone targets a person, they stay on that person 24/7 everyday. If you are instructed to move to Winnipeg Canada or anywhere for bribes, sexual favors, money, and/or free housing through any means of transportation, Do Not Go! You are a victim of a class action crime that has gone out of hand. Do NOT give these criminals anymore power by giving yourself up to them. You did not win anything and being targeted by these drones means that they chose you to either traffick or to be murdered covertly using drones with electromagnetic weapons attachments and technology which allows sonic hearing that the MDP criminal organization network uses to communicate directly to one another without needing to use a phone. Captured victims are forced into unpaid labor and forced prostitution. The targeted victim will be missing and stored away within one of their run down homes/facilities, unable to escape or leave. The handlers forces their new members into various ritualistic initiations cycles within their cultist group kneel, to sniff up drugs.
Once captured, they immediately commence their routines of total control and exploitation of the fully captured person. The victims are broken down to less than nothing due to repeated rape and abuse sequences. Felons within the MDP organization are to either traffick or murder a victim because their data brokers does not want to exposed and has paid a great sum of currency to illegally purchase the personal records of their targets and to send a weaponized drone to the illegally purchased individual, equipped with biohacking weapons to break down their targets into trafficking themselves, committing suicide or murdering others. They run criminal schools/organizations that breeds more human traffickers and prostitutes into the public. They Will Say Anything to Force You to move!
“We need you!” “We love you, Move!” “We want to lust your body.”
They work on every emotion within their targets brain and force the individual either into a blind rage or to try to confuse the person with their own emotions through a series of gaslighting and abuse, into moving their targets to them (I can not stress this enough, do not let them force you into trafficking yourself.
The felons also pretend to be some type of close friend to their victims in order to keep control over them. They are fully trained and prepared personally to place severe torture on one individual (they pair up and gang up on one individual at a time and “jumps” said victim. They act like grade school kids, but that’s due to the heavy influence of their handlers, crack and cocaine that has degenerated them. They also are heavily involved in the drug/prostitution ring where everyone gets raped and are all under heavy mind control from a cocktail of different drugs including cocaine.
The felons has their victims set up as empty puppets who are under complete control. The victims now turned felons/rapists/addicts are raised specifically to absorb abuse, while abusing drugs to remain numb during their operations, scopolamine, crack and cocaine to remain numb to any words from their victims.
They train individuals this way so they can deal more damage than receive it during their illegal operations. They are completely separate from reality and are all under one criminal control.
They are aware of people resisting and they promise to do everything to try to force their targets into submitting to their handlers. Warning! These Malicious Drone Operators WILL Say ANYTHING to force a person to move!
The terrorists all have their handlers speaking directly into their ears during their operations to murder or capture the innocent, giving them orders on their scripts made to place torture and destroy random individuals, innocent or not.
They tend to target the innocents more since these felons find it more satisfying to rape, brainwash, and intoxicate the innocent heavily until the innocent is completely empty. As soon as as they’re successful, they turn the captured individuals into drug addicts, whores, and forced laborers, working for gift cards and sexual/party favors.
They will always refuse to leave their targets unless the person gives in and moves to them. Or if the victim gathers any evidence leading to the arrest and shutdown of MDP
To the many different individuals that takes the time to read this, I am taking the time and energy out of my life to warn everyone about a massive data breach that has occurred and that is endangering many lives, including my own at this very point in time.
This type of data breach is the very worst of its kind. Before, the biggest threat was internet crimes, malware, and viruses that may have affected your assets if you were to click the wrong link. Now your actual physical being is at risk by MDP data brokers who are currently funding these criminal networks and are providing illegally purchased records of random individuals around the world.
Now, the MDP criminals today have gone above and beyond the internet and are sending drones with biohacking technologies attachments to random individuals. These weapon attachments magnetizes to specific muscles within the human anatomy of the hijackers choosing. This allows the hijacker to manipulate small muscle tissues within the human body such as rotating an individuals eyes at the hijackers will to keep their victims sleep deprived. They focus on the genitals primarily to exploit the human desire to make love with another individual through the manipulation of their genitals such methods, human traffickers and terrorist organizations are now utilizing these magnetic weapons attached to drones to lock a persons own body up for ransom which could be assets, or force you to sell your body into slavery.
They offer the remote of the victims body, to the victims they use to manipulate certain muscles and veins in the body in exchange for the capture of the victims body.
MDP human traffickers have evolved from footwork to airborne to stay covert. Hiding behind custom biohacking drones ordered online and through various other biohacking black market trades.
“Voices in the head” has been declassified and debunked as electronic biohacking through electromagnets, radiation, drones and neurophones funded and powered by criminal Fusion Centers, MDP who fund radical extremists and terrorists around the world. This was thought out to be a medical condition that is often confused with schizophrenia or another mental illness. But I challenged the theory and discovered that the public has been heavily misinformed.
If a person never had a history with voices in their head that were not of their own voices, and they have proof of their attackers transmitting these frequencies, how could it be a medical condition if the person has evidence of the voices being transmitted directly to his/her skull? So, not only the voices are there, they are also instructing people to either murder, rape, or traffick themselves to one of the many fusion centers, human/sex trafficking homes within undisclosed locations, “ghettos”, and divisions that could be in any closed off homes, (homes with unusually active activities) so they could focus and convert their captives through a series of abuse and ritualistic routines 24/7 everyday.
They force the individual to impregnate one of their paid prostitutes that are doppelgängers to their targets. They do this to raise another human into being another drug addict/trafficker, born and raised into the criminal network so it’ll appear more natural to kill, traffick and brainwash victims.
The MDP pretend to be on the victims side, but they really are not. They all have an illegal drill instructor that only teaches the trafficked “warloot” abuse, rape, and how to torture.

"...You can tell the Strines because they 1) are drunk 2) wear shorts and football jerseys 3) have Anzak hats on 4) are barefoot and 5) jabber incessantly. Fucking Strines are a weird race. Inbred ex-Brit psychos and prisoners. The real sick men of Europe. All the evidence you need is fifteen minutes of watching Oz-rules football. Like a barroom brawl with a pigskin. Fuck the score -- seen any good injuries?"
"On landing, we had an Oz specialty -- "Thirst" flavor Lifesavers. They were salty, sour and repulsive. Like dried pee and blood plasma. Threw the rest away. Must be some kind of joke they play on Yankees.

Thursday July 30 -- Driving To Sydney

If Melbourne is anything to judge by, Oz is America with e of Wales, which also has Tranny Cabaret. On the walls, we were told, would be pictures of some of Melbourne's most famous female impersonators. This in no way prepared us for the 100 or so photos of Strine poofs in the stairway. These are only some of the most famous TV's from Melbourne alone? Jesus, this city must be fag heaven. The ones with the mustaches must be really good.
Bruce and Greta are an obsessed couple. They are pin sharp and efficient. Greta says she knows a fellow who eats Thirst flavor LIfesavers out of his girlfriend's pussy. Sadist. Masochist. Met up with Linda and Debbie, two aunts of mine who were vacationing in Oz. They wanted to see the gig. I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted. I didn't see them afterwards, so I don't know what they thought. I can imagine it was a bit much, especially the part where everyone hurled bottles and glasses at us. If Sant hadn't taunted them for ten minutes, and if I hadn't called them Oz-holes it might have been quieter.
Met a hyperactive, mildly-retarded fellow named Trevor, who once fucked Byron in the rump. He taught us some good Strine epithets: "Dag" -- the bit of shit stuck to the wool around a sheep's asshole "Dead Shit" -- useless motherfucker and "Fuckwit" or "Total Fuckwit" -- pud.
Today we're driving to Sydney, which is eleven hours away, to play two nights in another hotel pub. We've passed a statue commemorating "The Dog on the Tuckerbox", some Strine frontier myth about a dog who guarded a mineworker's lunchpail. One day the mine collapsed, and the dog stayed on the lunchbox until he starved to death. Dog sounds really stupid to me. Coulda et the sammidges. Unless there were Thirst flavor Lifesavers in there or something.
The food here is large and pretty good. They've definitely got the English beat in that department, but they still haven't learned the simplest principles of insulation and heating. Must be a genetic fault."

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Chapter 38
Subject: Fleet Leader Barrilin Onaya
Species: Oyan
Description: Avian humanoid, feathered tail. 6'1" (1.8 m) avg height. 96 lbs (43 kg) avg weight. 161 year life expectancy.
Ship: RSV Nolbarinil {Majestic In Flight}
Location: Unknown
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"Omega, where's our reinforcements?" I asked.
"ETA is two minutes," it replied.
"Can you do that magic trick again?"
"They are actively communicating and sharing software patches in an attempt to counter my cyberwarfare tactics. So... yes, but it'll take time and won't last long."
"Understood. Salin, have our remaining defensive vessels focus on weakening the MPP's rate of fire. Have some US ships keep watch for suicide bombers, though. Everyone else, evasive maneuvers and fire at will."
"Yes, sir!"
Orders given, I sat back and nervously watched the battle play out on the tac-map. Since the MPPs had warped into the system, our casualties have skyrocketed. Thankfully, we weren't completely surprised by this counterattack. They've destroyed thousands of our ships, but we managed to take down one of the MPPs in the process. Four left.
I've found myself in the most perfectly terrible situation for a commander to be in. Outnumbered, outgunned, and without a single damned thing to do about it. I sighed softly and rubbed my beak as our casualty count hit eight thousand. One of the OU cruisers took a potshot at us which careened off of our shields, causing the ship to shudder and my hand to slip from my face.
"I did say evasive maneuvers, yes?" I asked jokingly.
"Yes, sir," Hindal replied.
She wasn't laughing anymore, she's far too busy keeping us alive. The RSV Nolbarinil isn't what I would call a clunky ship, but graceful would not be an accurate description either. We traded fire with the OU cruiser that had targeted us, but their ship seemed pretty evenly matched with our own and our rounds bounced off of each other's shields.
It seemed that we were in a battle of attrition when suddenly a frigate exited warp behind the cruiser and punched a hole in it from stern to bow. The United Systems saves the day again. I noted the difference in size and power ratios between my flagship and the frigate with annoyance.
I turned my attention back to our casualty count. Over ten thousand ships lost. The Dtiln Collective had lost half their forces and the Pwanti were completely wiped out. The Republic had lost the most ships, but had also brought the most ships. Five Pwanti ships, one thousand US ships, three thousand Dtiln Collective ships, and the rest were Republic.
I rubbed my eyes trying to think of some way to win this. There had only been one MPP in this system, and they planned this operation for three dreadnoughts per MPP. We hadn't planned on enemy reinforcements because as far as we knew, the only thing of value in this system was the MPP.
"Omega, are the OU reinforcing other systems as well?" I asked quietly. "Or is there a specific reason they want this system so badly?"
"They are reinforcing other systems, but their communications indicate that their deployment patterns are proximity based," the AI answered.
"They came to defend this system because they were closest to it?"
"Correct."
I grumbled softly about our bad luck. Still, I'd heard that the United Systems had managed to fight off Mobile Prime Platforms while they were outnumbered before. I desperately hope they're able to do it again. Though, they did that with full shields and preparation time...
I turned my attention back to the tac-map in time to see the USSS Carnage fire its Ultra-MAC just as it lost its shield. I watched the shell impact an MPP and split it apart. Only three MPPs left, but the situation isn't looking good for the Carnage.
Thankfully for us, Omega had quickly intervened when the dreadnoughts were about to begin preparing for warp. I'm not an engineer so the details elude me, but its one or the other with the Ultra-MAC and the FTLD. If the Ultra-MAC is charged, the FTLD can't be. The reverse is true as well. If the dreadnoughts had started charging their FTLDs, then we would have no hope of survival. Instead of the little hope for survival that we currently have.
"The USSS Carnage has taken critical damage and is abandoning ship," Salin informed me.
"Have some frigates start grabbing their escape craft," I ordered. "We can't leave them sitting out there with all this going on."
"Yes, sir."
Moments later, the marker for the Carnage disappeared and its name was added to the casualty list. Three Mobile Prime Platforms against two United Systems dreadnoughts. The USSS Tip of the Tip and the USSS Gaping Maw began moving to take cover behind the wreck of the Carnage. The Tip of the Tip had already fired and was currently recharging. The Gaping Maw had fired the shot that destroyed the MPP we came here for, and they're currently halfway through recharging.
Unfortunately, both of the dreadnought's shields have taken a lot of damage. The Carnage and the Gaping Maw hadn't fully recovered their shields since the last battle. The Tip of the Tip hadn't taken a lot of fire in round one, but was currently being battered. The Gaping Maw had shielded the Carnage earlier, but the enemy reinforcements had warped in from the opposite direction, which had put the Carnage directly in their sights. It was pure luck that they were able to get a shot off when they did.
"Reinforcements inbound," Omega said calmly. "Twenty seconds."
The AI's calmness did not provide any reassurance. If anything, it pissed me off. Of course it can be calm, it's not as if its going to die here. This copy of it will, but it has dozens more. Maybe even hundreds. But we only get one body. One life. And so many of these lives were currently being lost, and so many more would be lost in the next twenty seconds.
I recognized my visceral rage as being stress induced and pinched the tip of my beak to keep from cursing. The AI is only doing what it was trained to do in stressful situations with organics. It is important to stay calm and keep a level beak in times of duress.
"The USSS Tip of the Tip has taken critical damage," Salin said quietly. "They're also abandoning ship."
"Wolyunvor {a curse invoking a patron deity of inbred children made by siblings}," I swore softly. "Make sure they're picked up too. As soon as possible."
"On it, sir."
The USSS Gaping Maw managed to secure a position behind the wreck of the Carnage, but this had caused the MPPs to focus their fire on the Tip of the Tip. Three MPPs against one dreadnought. The exact opposite of how this was supposed to go. I swallowed heavily as the indicator for the USSS Tip of the Tip disappeared from the tac-map and joined the casualty list, knowing exactly what will happen next.
The three remaining Mobile Prime Platforms turned their attention toward the Gaping Maw. One of the MPPs began firing into the wreckage of the Carnage, trying to penetrate the impromptu cover. The other two began to move around the cover, seeking a clear shot at our only remaining dreadnought.
"Got 'em," Omega said as the two MPPs cleared the wreckage. "Weapons disabled."
"How long?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.
"Not long. Rough estimate would be fifteen seconds. Doing what I can to extend that."
"Good work, Omega."
We might not lose all three of our dreadnoughts, but the fight is far from over. Whoever comes to our aid will have to charge their MACs, and anything can happen during that time. While I have mixed feelings about the United System's possession of such a destructive weapon, I can't help but wish it had a faster rate of fire.
"Reinforcements inbound!" Salin shouted excitedly.
A massive fleet of ships suddenly appeared on my tac-map. They had sent ten dreadnoughts and too many support ships to count.
"I want every gun in this system targeting the MPP's MACs while those dreadnoughts charge," I ordered.
"Understood, sir!"
A rather fortunate paradigm shift. Our forces now outnumber the OU's, and this means certain victory. I breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately remembered that this isn't over. I shouldn't relax yet, because there could be-
"Enemy reinforcements inbound," Omega finished my thought. "ETA one minute."
"Any idea how many?" I asked.
"No. They're too grouped together."
"Understood," I sighed. "See if we can get some more reinforcements. Salin, I want the Gaping Maw and two of our new friends to target the three remaining MPPs with their Ultra-MACs. Have the rest save it for the incoming."
"Yes, sir!"
The Gaping Maw had already moved clear of its cover and was targeting one of the remaining three MPPs. It fired, and I held my breath as I tracked the projectile via the tac-map. It collided with the MPP, and I subtly clenched my talons in celebration.
The two remaining MPPs began to fire again, but they had lost too many of their cannons to be a threat to the dreadnoughts. The Gaping Maw's shields slowly began to climb as they made good use of the cover provided by the destroyed MPPs. A lot of tension left my body as I watched the dreadnought's charge indicators climb. A little knot in my stomach remained, though. While the last two MPPs would not survive to greet their reinforcements, there's no telling how many of those reinforcements there will be.
The knot remained even after our reinforcements destroyed the final Mobile Prime Platforms. The dreadnoughts began to focus their supplementary MACs on the OU fleet. Supplementary MACs seems like such an odd phrase for cannons that are larger than any of the MACs on this ship.
"Enemies have exited warp!" Salin shouted.
My eyes stayed glued to the tac-map as the enemy indicators appeared. I sat stunned for a moment, then clacked my beak excitedly. The dreadnoughts had finished charging just as eight enemy MPPs exited warp. Absolute perfection. The large fleet of OU ships were almost an afterthought.
"One dreadnought per MPP, please," I ordered with a laugh. "Kill them."
I watched as eight dreadnoughts fired their Ultra-MACs in unison, hoping that someone had caught the visual on a recording so I could see it with my own eyes one day. The shells sped toward their targets, and a cheer erupted on the bridge as all eight shots connected. The enemy's reinforcements had been wiped out almost instantly.
The knot in my stomach faded as I leaned back in my chair and sighed. I felt as if several years had been taken from my lifespan. The cheering on the bridge stopped abruptly as the ship shuddered, reminding us all that we were still in a fight.
"We're not done yet," I said. "Clean them up."
​
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For those who don't know, Old Man Logan was a Dark Knight Returns-styled "retired superhero has one final adventure in a dark future" alternative universe story starring Wolverine, written by Mark Millar and released as an eight-issues long storyline in 2008. The story takes place in a version of the Marvel Universe, where the supervillains finally realized that they outnumber all the superheroes and could wipe them out in a pre-planned organized attack, which they did and then divided the World (or at least the United States) to territories ruled by different villains.
Only few heroes survived, including Wolverine, who is now an old man (hence the title) and lives pacifistic life with his family. However, due to lack of money to pay the rent to his landlord (who I get to later), Logan is forced to accept a cross-country delivery job from blinded Hawkeye.
It's basically Unforgiven meets Mad Max.
Now, if you know your comics, you probably know Mark Millar at least by reputation. Just like Garth Ennis, he is one of those "edgelords, who seems to hate comics, especially superhero comics, but for some reason keeps writing them" type of writers. He is especially fond of unlikeable main characters and inclusion of pointless shock value, like sexual assault, in his comics, basically just as a lazy way to get them free publicity, which in turn leads into movie and Netflix deals.
However, Millar does usually tone down some of his "Millarisms", when writing for characters he doesn't own and his sensibilities do fit the particular premise of OML. The story takes place in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, where all hope is lost and everyone is out for themselves and yet, despite all of this, none of the main heroic characters are turned into a-holes or lose their humanity. Logan has all of his more noble characteristics intact, his relationship with his family is genuily loving and Hawkeye has managed to keep his snarky sense of humor. Compare this to something like the orignal comic book Civil War, which Millar also wrote, where basically everyone was turned into an aggressive idiot, who secretly always hated their friends, just for the sake of contriving the conflict.
The firts seven issues are arguably the best writing Millar has ever done (at least for Marvel) and up there as one of the best Wolverine stories. And then we get to the final issue...
Remember the landlord Logan owned money to? Well, that's the Hulk, who has gone mad and formed a "Hulk gang" out of his offsprings. Now, this alone doesn't really bother me. This isn't the first story, where living in a post-apocalyptic World and absorbing ton of radiation drove Hulk evil (Maestro from Peter David's excellent Future Imperfect story being probably the most well-known example), and while he doesn't want to hurt anybody and usually protects the innocent civilians even during his rampages, Hulk has kinda been more about keeping himself happy and not really caring about being a hero, since the day one in the regular Marvel Universe.
What does bother me is how he formed his Hulk gang. During the final fight between Logan and Banner, the latter mentions that they are allinbred incest babies birthed by She-Hulk, his cousin. It's never spelled out whenever it was consensual, with her going crazy like him, or involved SA (although, since this is Millar we are talking about, we never see her and Banner does say "she was the only woman, who could take the pace", I'm worried that it is supposed to be the latter), but it is still icky and pointless. Other than "hurrdurr, inbred hillbilly stereotypes, but as Hulks" "joke", it adds nothing to the story and is the one moment where Millar lets his "Millarisms" come before the story. And it's not like Millar couldn't have both a gang of Hulk offsprings andno incest, since there are plenty super-powered female villains, who could have been their mother.
Ultimately, this whole things just leaves very bad taste in your mouth, once the story is over.
And I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. I'm constantly seeing people calling Old Man Logan overrated, if not outright terrible, and when you ask them why they feel that way, the answer usually is something along the lines of "It's a story, where Hulk has incest children with She-Hulk". And while I fully understand why they feel that way, it also feels little unfair, since we are talking about 8 issues, where the Hulk gang are involed only the first and final issues. Even if just looking at them makes you sick, once you know their origin, that's still 6 issues of solid stuff that still holds up.
If only Millar could have helped himself or someone at Marvel would have said him "no" on this point, Old Man Logan could have been seen as his masterpiece. But now, I always feel the need to add "but the final issue sucks", when admitting to liking it.

What's groovin. I'm an American Indian/Black Man from Memphis. I am Chickasaw, Taino and Arawak.
Excuse my erratic sentence structures. I've been through a good bit and have been left with some schizoid symptoms.
This is a long post because I am now aware of the Matrix system, more so since 2008 by reading people like John Money, Illuminati reveal books and so forth. This is more than anything I ever understood prior to my first awakenings.
All of this is my experience and some book reading. Evil is real but it's also made real as an illusion to hide from the true evil: No land and no truth.
I came into the awareness of the Prison system from how my parents raised me; It was somewhat an unintentional Hegelian dialecticism. I was forced under a household of single mothers and their demented children, all while my father worked and my non-sister terrorized me, doing nothing to teach me or her supposed family she was living with. My mother wasn't a successful woman after marriage, not working a day in her life since marriage.
My family consisted of blood and non blood relatives, confusing the focus of family ties. This is intentional. Non-Blood relatives who have different fathers or men or women who come into the family with an ABUNDANCE of trauma are directly meant to oppress and abuse the family dynamics, preventing from order and stability from every happening. This is called "generational" curses. This is actually how curses are created, by mixing with the bloodlines of various individuals who have been tainted or carry severe traumas, with the purpose of making the families less strong and more vulnerable, which leads to them not taking full responsibility for the family. This doesn't mean anything evil tho.
What I understood about this dynamic is very simple: When you are assigned to a family or born into one, they may or may not embody the prison like ideals of the outside world, which is why Denzel Washington says it starts in the home. Because of this upbringing, with the isolation and lack of socialization, I succumbed to the programming of influence. This was intentional by the system and the people around me, as they were petty, territorial and racist. To add further damage, my ENTIRE FAMILY was targeted against this system and some are being recruited by the very same thing I'm getting into. They are trying to turn me against my family, even if my family had major issues beforehand.
Now that I am 27, I recognize this was a plot by the Prison World to entrap individuals and groups such as me in a strict and isolated life style in order to remove the idea that the matrix even exist. Even when one leaves his home environment, the Matrix becomes aware you are trying to break out and assigns you Reptillians or other negative entities to watch you and siphon your true potential energy away. They attach themselves to you, promising knowledge and riches, so you can escape when in reality, they siphon your built up energy off of excitement. In order for this process to work, you need to be poisoned both mind and soul I.e or having some evil blood in you in order for them to even have access to your energy. The poisons are psychedelic parasite worms that can get into your gut and brain, causing schizophrenia, passed off as a spiritual awakening. This is a false spiritual awakening of sorts, as its an means to connect you to illusive forces that do not fully exist. If such forces existed to such large degrees, everyone would be under the same system, and they are not. In history, there used to be large cannibal creatures who worked with the aliens. The war that was caused globally, wiped out everything including the evil along with it. All that is left is a secret remnant hiding behind different faces and communities.
This makes you see illusive entities that are not there, having your energy being drained by an illusion, not even the entities themselves. These forces have to work OVERTIME in order to convert and harm you, as they have limited resources as to how they use their forces in the first place. The joke is that they are everywhere and they aren't. They just populate the places in the world where there was once abundance and healing and are typically in the NASTIEST places. 1 Perverted entity will corrupt the whole region if not stopped.
These are lowly and disgusting creatures and regardless of skin color or position, they practice the same thing wherever they go.
So there are two forces that we can identify: The Physical and The Spiritual World. The Perverted Entities(is what I call them) control the spiritual world as that's all they can do. They are weak, physically. The Humans that work with them carry out their will in the physical world. Think of this as the Matrix, literally.
They can change everything about you if not careful, like the scene in reloaded how Smith was able to convert one of the members of Zion, corrupting him.
The other aspect to this is intelligence. Parasites(the entities that supposedly rule the world) are non-sentient but learn some of their host behaviors if they attach to the host. They learn off their traumas and pleasures, feeding off it and giving back even more negative energy. They have no memories, no personality and are not real. It is a psychedelic poison, a /MK-ULTRA style programming. The deeper the trauma, the greater the sight(this is bad). They retain no information unless someone cultivated a stronger parasite entity within you. The spiritual aspect of these forces are a hive mind. It is an unintelligent hive mind that creates a game reality of participation. Meaning, it creates fake scenarios so you can play into the negative siphoning reality(Weak Vs Strong or Black Vs White). It can literally construct something you love, then remove it from you to siphon from you(deities).
They want "Strong" individuals to carry out their incessant will. The "strong" are those who participate and succeed and the weak are those who "fail". They are both PAWNS, not realizing they are being manipulated to hate their families. Either way, they do things they will regret. There is no happiness.
The first thing a reptilian/demonic entity will do to initiate is to ISOLATE YOU from family and remove you from them, attempting to justify themselves saying "My family left me when I was young!" or "You need to experience the real world!". Or "You are too weak! you need to be by yourself to get stronger!".
These aliens are miserable and merely need humans to not succeed their potential so they may create a "spiritual" scenario where you have super powers or your family is trying to kill you. This is all false.
They have phases for this. Leading Phase, Predatory Phase, Recruiting Phase and Initiation Phase.
This is a Draconic initiation. There are no mistakes and no apologies if you are initiated, even accidently. To them, you betrayed them. Everything from now on is a HARSH test. Part of this can be seen as a good thing but its rather tiresome, because the whole time your energy is being siphon'd by an attached individual.
To preface; These are reptilian entities I dealt with more or less but I dealt with more of them. Same evil, different tactics. A Reptilians from Haiti will have assumptions about me as a Black American, which can influence how it handles me! I was not aware of this until recently. I assume they adopt these behaviors on purpose but I suspect it is inborn, rather than inbred. I could be wrong but character is innate.
They really are perverted entities/people who are on the lower end of the totem pole, stuck forever with the position they were assigned to for an eternity. Now one could say they are shapeshifting forces. In reality, many of these forces you meet are evil humans who work with these forces and they come from different background. Race does matter here. If you are a White American human, your ancestors were once conquered by the Caribbean, African and Asiatic invaders. You were ruled over by them and fled into the Americas for refuge. Whatever was against you in history is against you now, regardless of the Prison Planet. So you not only have entities wanting you controlled and/dead, the hate is being directed towards you from other groups of your past.
The Matrix has many different layers, with all of them leading to more bullshit and traps.
The Matrix Film rather inflates the entertainment side of things. If you bring these constructs to life, you will see you are being played by the very same people calling you their allies, to create some messianic figure to fight evil, when really, he a sacrificial key to restarting the new cycle. The Prison Planet creates messianic figures, typically singular, as a means to worship and bend over backwards over your own morals.
The greatest truth to mankind in this reality is this; Everything that was, all expressed different ways of life. Freemasonry, Secret Societies, were once open and simply expressed different ways of life before it became perverted, making everything some sort of occultist/hidden reality. This is ANYTHING. From daily life to spiritual life or secret life. They simply corrupted all the principalities in the world, regardless of it's origin.
To finalize this post: THEY DON'T WANT YOU HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. This is how they break you. No sex, no love, no friends, no trust except the evil forces around you. Daily life is essential, so they prevent it by removing you from your support, so you are forced to be by yourself, alone, practicing black magic and doing fuck all with your life and paying enormous rent. Many of these evil humans around you are jealous they chose to be cursed or cursed themselves with their own bad decisions, so they work with a perverted system that gives them great rewards if they happen to turn an average man like me, Evil. Yes. To all of you good people, special and nice, you are being betted on. Some of the people in your circles are apart of this system, betting on what you will do some like lab-rat experiment. They target families and at times, non-relatives to cause chaos within.
You'll know if you meet them. They always have family that hate them, absent father, some immigrant background etc. They can be from Africa and still retain the same principalities.
These entities have taken over the minds of your family and parents, causing them to have knowledge of things they shouldn't know, changing their behavior or causing infighting for no reason. Demons, Archons, Reptilians need to siphon energy the best way, with you being isolated, lonely and depressed.
The Solution? Don't participate. Don't speak with them. I made the mistake of speaking to a known Reptilians, fooling myself thinking it is my friend, for how loving she was compared to my mother's love. If someone claims to be anything other than human or has any traumatic past, it is a suspicious individual. Those with Traumatic past are often set up within the system. Fabricated scenarios in order to manipulate into sympathy. I came back to a Reptilians individual, knowingly it was a Reptilian and that could change shape(I took two pictures of the same day. Completely different face but similar voice, explained to me it could change my memories and how it looked. This was because she poisoned me upon first encounter, granting access to my mind). This is how they attach to you, by becoming so used to their parasitical attachment that you start to like them.
Like Venom, they are liars and parasites'. They need YOU to BARELY survive. Their contracts with Perverted Forces means they have to do 1000% everything right just to have a bite to eat. They have to be fucked up to enjoy life.
My best solution is ridding them is studying, detective working, exposing then execution. That will lead us closer to the source of the matter.

I am a (17M) kind of racist, slightly homophobic, and very sexist. I hate white boys (I’m Hispanic) and I don’t associate with black boys or girls. In my eyes, every white man is either an inbred redneck or an absolute idiot who doesn’t know jack shit. Every black boy is probably related in something bad or has a gun. Every black girl are INSUFFERABLE and just don’t know when to shut up. I feel white woman are all feminists and open their legs to every man they come across.
The reason for why I feel like this could be explain in a lot of experiences, for example, white kids bullying me when I was young, or black boys always talking about shooting up the school and shit, or black girls never shutting the fuck up about gossip, or a pair of white girls always giving head for a couple of bucks.
Writing this I completely forgot to talk in about my homophobia! It’s not really that bad, I just dislike the idea of it and don’t want to associate with anyone who is homosexual.
Anyways, call me an asshole or whatever, I’ve been trying to be more fair and open but I just can’t imagine myself ever truly seeing everyone equal. Also as hilarious as this sounds as far as I am aware, I’m not joking.

After my parents had moved to a new town, I was forced to make friends all over again. It was my last year in high school and I didn’t know anybody. I ended up finding a crowd of kids who liked exploring abandoned buildings and smoking weed. There were worse fates, I guess. It was far better than being the new kid with no friends at all.
I found the old house on the edge of town, far down a dirt road that seemed to serve no purpose. I was riding my bike at the time. The next day, while we were at school, I reported back to my friends about it during lunch.
“We’ll go tonight,” Mike said, grinning at me.
“Steve always finds the most random crap,” Howie said, looking down at his tray. “Remember the time you found that underground tunnel in the mental asylum?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “That was pretty bizarre…” But this new house would be far stranger than anything before.
***
Four of us ended up going. Mike was always the leader, and also the only one with the car. His parents were wealthier than any of ours and had bought him a Cadillac on his 16th birthday. He was also the giant among us, standing well over six feet tall.
Howie was chubby and short. He was always cracking jokes at the worst possible time and getting in trouble. But I loved having him around. He was always in a good mood, always trying to raise everyone’s spirits.
And then there was Lillian. She was, by far, the smartest among us.
She came out with us sometimes, always wearing goth clothing. This week, her hair was dyed black with red streaks down it; next week, it would probably be something totally different.
We pulled up in front of the house, Mike squinting at it through the windshield of his Cadillac.
“Holy shit, that place is huge,” he said. In the dark, all I could see was its silhouette. Everyone else stayed silent, simply staring at the place. A chill ran down my spine. In the dark, it seemed far more ominous than it had in the bright afternoon.
“I hope we don’t find a family of inbred meth-heads living in there,” Howie said. “What is this road even for? There are no other houses on it. It doesn’t seem to go anywhere.” I had wondered the same thing. We all got out of the car, gathering our supplies. Each of us had a headlamp we usually used for nighttime explorations. Turning them all on, the yard lit up all at once.
In front of the house, across the massive, unkempt yard, I saw a sign I had missed the first time I had driven by this place on my bike: “Absolutely no trespassing. Trespassers will be absorbed.”
“What the fuck?” Howie said, laughing. “‘Trespassers will be absorbed’? That’s a new one. Absorbed into what? The cosmic soul? Hell? Or maybe the Russian military?” I looked around, feeling watched. In the forest next to the house, I saw a pair of white eyes, low to the ground. Whatever it was skittered away as soon as I turned my headlamp towards it. Probably just a possum, I thought to myself.
“That sign is likely just someone’s idea of a joke,” Mike said, putting his massive hand on Howie’s back. “Why don’t you go first, motormouth?” Howie looked up at MIke, a look of concern crossing his fat, jovial face for a moment. Then he turned towards the house and began walking. We followed close behind him. I was next to Lillian.
“You grew up in this town, right?” I asked her. She nodded. “Have you ever heard of this place, or this road?” I thought back to the faded road sign we had seen when we pulled onto it. “I think it said Gnawbone Road.” She frowned slightly.
“No, but this town’s nearly a few hundred years old,” she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s probably a lot of places like this we don’t know about. One time, before you moved here, we found an entire graveyard in the forest. The trees and brush had nearly reclaimed it, but there were still dozens of tombstones mostly intact. There wasn’t even a trail to it. It was like the whole thing had simply been forgotten and left to nature.”
By this point, Howie had reached the house, going up the rickety, creaking stairs. The front porch wrapped around the house. Old Victorian turrets stood high, blocking out the stars and the dark, nighttime clouds. The peeling red paint of the house had mostly been worn away over time, leaving stained wooden boards peeking out underneath.
We followed close behind. I saw an old rocking chair on the porch, still moving back and forth. Must be the wind, I thought.
Howie put his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, I hoped that it would simply be locked, and then we could just turn around and forget about this whole thing. But it wasn’t. The door opened silently, swinging in.
“Holy crap,” Mike said behind him, looking over Howie’s head into the darkness. His headlamp moved up and down as he checked out the front chamber. “Look at the size of that chandelier!” Lillian and I moved up close behind him and Howie. A huge glass chandelier still hung from the ceiling, covered in spiderwebs and black dust.
Underneath it, a massive staircase went up to the next floor. Dust covered the floor. Among it, I saw footprints. They looked fresh. They only went in, I noticed. Whoever it was must have taken a different way out.
“It looks like we aren’t the only ones who have been here,” I whispered. The rest of them examined the footprints as well.
“Maybe it’s just a daytime caretaker,” Mike said. “Let’s go.” We all stepped in, closing the door behind us. A faint musty smell permeated the house, along with something more repulsive- something like rot and spoiled meat. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely there.
“OK, where are we going first?” Lillian asked, her voice calm and unbothered. I wished I could have that level of calm.
“Let’s go left,” Mike said, pointing. “It looks like there’s some sort of old library over here.” Ancient-looking books were stacked in shelves up to the ceiling. Many of them were water-damaged or falling apart. Lillian moved apart from us, examining them with a frown.
“Why would someone leave all these books here? And the chandelier?” she asked. I shrugged, coming up next to her.
“Maybe all that stuff is just worthless,” I said.
“And not a single homeless person or kid has come here to steal the stuff they left behind?” she said. She had a good point. She pulled out a random book. Looking over her shoulder, I saw the title: “Human Sacrifice and the Black Arts.” The one next to it on the shelf read, “The Teachings of Moloch.”
“Pretty weird,” I said. But Lillian was no longer listening to me. She had opened the book and was reading it with wide eyes. Turning around, I saw Mike and Howie had gone.
“Oh shit, Lillian,” I whispered. “We lost them. How in the hell could we lose them? They were just right here.” And then I heard screaming coming from another room nearby. She dropped the book and we began to run, turning our headlamps this way and that.
We ran into the kitchen and saw Mike sprawled across an old table, his throat slashed from ear to ear. He was still alive, gurgling, his eyes frantically moving from one end of the room to another. The table appeared to be drinking his blood. Every drop that fell on it disappeared into the wood. He began to seize, his eyes rolling back in his head. Within seconds, he had stopped breathing, his fingernails and lips turning blue under the intense glare of our headlamps.
“Howie! Where are you?” I screamed. I didn’t know whether Howie had killed Mike or someone else was in here with us. I couldn’t see how Howie would do that to any of us, though. My mind moved towards the latter idea.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Lillian said, her hands trembling. “We need to call the police. We need to get out of here.” She reached into her pocket for her phone, dropping it on the floor in her panic. She picked it up, turning it on. “No service.”
“Let’s just go,” I whispered. “You go first.” I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling her chest heave as she began to cry. “We need to go, now.” I spun her around and began pushing her towards the front door. I looked back one last time, and saw Mike’s body deflating like a balloon. His blood spilled out of him faster and faster- which seemed strange, since he had no heartbeat. The table appeared to be melding with his body, his head and chest liquefying and stretching out. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the house itself. All the blood and gore had been cleaned up. Even his clothes were gone.
I didn’t share this with Lillian. I just pushed her faster. We saw the door was closed. I ran past her, trying to open it, but it was locked. I kicked it as hard as I could, putting as much force in the area around the knob as I could, but it was like kicking a metal wall. I shrieked with the pain as the force of the impact ran back up my leg.
I checked my phone, my hands trembling. It said there were zero bars in the house. I tried to send a text out anyways, first to 911, then to my parents. Both failed to send. Perhaps it was the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere, or perhaps the house had some sort of metal that interfered with cell reception. But it seemed no help was coming. Lillian began to cry harder.
“No help is coming, no help,” she sobbed.
“Get it together,” I said through gritted teeth. “We aren’t dying here. We have to find Howie and get all three of us out together. Do you have a weapon on you?” She shook her head, then she pulled out a lighter. “That’s… that’s not really a weapon, Lillian.”
“Maybe if we start a fire in the house, then people will see it, and help will come,” she said.
“With us inside?” I asked, aghast.
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” she said, crying harder. “I don’t want to die here, Steve. It isn’t supposed to be like this.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go explore and find another way out,” I said. Then I thought of the windows. “Maybe we can smash our way out of the windows!” She perked up at this. “There was a fireplace in the library. I think there was an old fire poker set next to it. We could use it as a weapon, or smash out a window with it…” We both ran to the library, and indeed, there was a whole set of fire pokers. One of them had a curved blade on the end, while the other was straight and sharp. I gave her the sharp one and pointed to the front window.
“Try it,” I said, my hopes soaring. She grabbed the fire poker. Bringing it back like a baseball bat, she swung with all of her might. Just like the door, it bounced off, the sound of ringing metal echoing through the room. She yelped in pain.
“It’s like some sort of bulletproof plexiglass or something!” she yelled. “What is this place?”
“Grab the poker anyways,” I said. “It’s time to explore the upstairs.” We trudged through the eerie darkness, shadows bobbing and dancing across the hall as we made our way to the ornate staircase. Grabbing it with one hand, I slowly started to ascend. Then a scream pierced the silence. It sounded like Howie’s voice.
I started to run up the stairs, hearing Lillian close behind me. We turned this way and that, looking down an endless hallway with many rooms branching off of each side. This house seemed so much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
The carpet on the hallway showed snakes and vines. They began to writhe and undulate, the patterns moving on their own. They began to separate, snake heads peering out of the carpet as if they had come from underwater. Their slit eyes glowed in the light of the headlamps. They hissed, dozens of them slithering towards us at once. We weren’t getting past them, I knew. I turned and nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get away, stumbling and grabbing onto the handrail as my back leg smashed into the wood. It sent a fiery jet of pain up my body.
Looking up, I saw Lillian still standing in place, horrified, her mask open in a silent scream as snake after snake coiled around her legs, going upwards. They bit into her flesh, spitting and hissing. Blood ran down her body. Soon she was covered entirely and fell over in the hallway, the mass of coiling snakes being dragged into the carpet by vines. As soon as her body had disappeared underneath the surface, the snakes and vines began to return to their original positions, and within seconds, I saw just a regular carpet again. She had been absorbed.
“Fuck,” I said, hyperventilating. I was all alone, I knew. I heard no more signs of Howie either. I thought about what to do. Desperate, scheming, I ran back towards the library. I felt in my pocket for my lighter, and grabbing a book, I began to pull pages out and run the flame under the corner. They caught quickly, the old, dried out paper going up in an inferno. I grabbed more books and tore out the pages, throwing them on the flames, intent on burning this house to the ground. The fact that I was still inside it didn’t register in my panicked mind. I knew that if I did nothing, I would die here. I had to destroy it.
Then from behind me, I heard a voice- low, jovial and mocking.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Howie said. I turned, seeing an expression of lunatic rage marring his face.
“I’m destroying this place,” I said. I paused for a moment, looking at him. “How are you still alive? Lillian and Mike are dead. The house ate them, I think.” He laughed.
“I know,” he said. “The house needs to be fed. It’s been in my family for generations. We always keep it well-fed in the end.” I gaped at him, uncomprehending. “You’ll be it’s last meal for the night…” He walked forward, pulling a bloody knife from his pocket. My fire poker was on the ground next to me. As he ran at me, the knife pointed straight out, I swung down, grabbing the fire poker and smashing it into the side of his head as hard as I could. I heard a crack when it connected with his skull. He fell, the knife clattering across the room, the flames bouncing off its stained metal surface.
The room behind me had begun to transform during our fight. Looking back into the shelves of library books, I saw them changing into a mouth. The wall opened up, the plaster morphing and melting. Two black eyes looked out at me, furious. Ancient, rusted nails formed into teeth. The wall began to bow outwards towards me. The fire grew larger in front of it, catching the carpet and wood now. I knew I needed to get out. But the door wouldn’t open for trespassers, and neither would the windows.
Suddenly, I had an idea. Sprinting away from the demonic face in the wall, I grabbed Howie’s unconscious body, dragging him by his legs to the front door. Using his hand, I gripped the knob. With a prayer, I tried to turn it- and the door flew open. Since he wasn’t a trespasser, the house wouldn’t keep him locked in.
Looking back at his unconscious body one last time, I swung the fire poker down on his head. I heard another crack as the side of his skull gave way, a jet of blood pouring out through the hole. I threw the weapon into the hall, running back towards the car. I tried the door, realizing it was locked. Mike had the keys on him when he had been absorbed.
Watching the house turn into a blazing inferno behind me, I began to walk down the dirt road- dirty, disheveled, and frightened, but alive.

After my parents had moved to a new town, I was forced to make friends all over again. It was my last year in high school and I didn’t know anybody. I ended up finding a crowd of kids who liked exploring abandoned buildings and smoking weed. There were worse fates, I guess. It was far better than being the new kid with no friends at all.
I found the old house on the edge of town, far down a dirt road that seemed to serve no purpose. I was riding my bike at the time. The next day, while we were at school, I reported back to my friends about it during lunch.
“We’ll go tonight,” Mike said, grinning at me.
“Steve always finds the most random crap,” Howie said, looking down at his tray. “Remember the time you found that underground tunnel in the mental asylum?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “That was pretty bizarre…” But this new house would be far stranger than anything before.
***
Four of us ended up going. Mike was always the leader, and also the only one with the car. His parents were wealthier than any of ours and had bought him a Cadillac on his 16th birthday. He was also the giant among us, standing well over six feet tall.
Howie was chubby and short. He was always cracking jokes at the worst possible time and getting in trouble. But I loved having him around. He was always in a good mood, always trying to raise everyone’s spirits.
And then there was Lillian. She was, by far, the smartest among us.
She came out with us sometimes, always wearing goth clothing. This week, her hair was dyed black with red streaks down it; next week, it would probably be something totally different.
We pulled up in front of the house, Mike squinting at it through the windshield of his Cadillac.
“Holy shit, that place is huge,” he said. In the dark, all I could see was its silhouette. Everyone else stayed silent, simply staring at the place. A chill ran down my spine. In the dark, it seemed far more ominous than it had in the bright afternoon.
“I hope we don’t find a family of inbred meth-heads living in there,” Howie said. “What is this road even for? There are no other houses on it. It doesn’t seem to go anywhere.” I had wondered the same thing. We all got out of the car, gathering our supplies. Each of us had a headlamp we usually used for nighttime explorations. Turning them all on, the yard lit up all at once.
In front of the house, across the massive, unkempt yard, I saw a sign I had missed the first time I had driven by this place on my bike: “Absolutely no trespassing. Trespassers will be absorbed.”
“What the fuck?” Howie said, laughing. “‘Trespassers will be absorbed’? That’s a new one. Absorbed into what? The cosmic soul? Hell? Or maybe the Russian military?” I looked around, feeling watched. In the forest next to the house, I saw a pair of white eyes, low to the ground. Whatever it was skittered away as soon as I turned my headlamp towards it. Probably just a possum, I thought to myself.
“That sign is likely just someone’s idea of a joke,” Mike said, putting his massive hand on Howie’s back. “Why don’t you go first, motormouth?” Howie looked up at MIke, a look of concern crossing his fat, jovial face for a moment. Then he turned towards the house and began walking. We followed close behind him. I was next to Lillian.
“You grew up in this town, right?” I asked her. She nodded. “Have you ever heard of this place, or this road?” I thought back to the faded road sign we had seen when we pulled onto it. “I think it said Gnawbone Road.” She frowned slightly.
“No, but this town’s nearly a few hundred years old,” she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s probably a lot of places like this we don’t know about. One time, before you moved here, we found an entire graveyard in the forest. The trees and brush had nearly reclaimed it, but there were still dozens of tombstones mostly intact. There wasn’t even a trail to it. It was like the whole thing had simply been forgotten and left to nature.”
By this point, Howie had reached the house, going up the rickety, creaking stairs. The front porch wrapped around the house. Old Victorian turrets stood high, blocking out the stars and the dark, nighttime clouds. The peeling red paint of the house had mostly been worn away over time, leaving stained wooden boards peeking out underneath.
We followed close behind. I saw an old rocking chair on the porch, still moving back and forth. Must be the wind, I thought.
Howie put his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, I hoped that it would simply be locked, and then we could just turn around and forget about this whole thing. But it wasn’t. The door opened silently, swinging in.
“Holy crap,” Mike said behind him, looking over Howie’s head into the darkness. His headlamp moved up and down as he checked out the front chamber. “Look at the size of that chandelier!” Lillian and I moved up close behind him and Howie. A huge glass chandelier still hung from the ceiling, covered in spiderwebs and black dust.
Underneath it, a massive staircase went up to the next floor. Dust covered the floor. Among it, I saw footprints. They looked fresh. They only went in, I noticed. Whoever it was must have taken a different way out.
“It looks like we aren’t the only ones who have been here,” I whispered. The rest of them examined the footprints as well.
“Maybe it’s just a daytime caretaker,” Mike said. “Let’s go.” We all stepped in, closing the door behind us. A faint musty smell permeated the house, along with something more repulsive- something like rot and spoiled meat. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely there.
“OK, where are we going first?” Lillian asked, her voice calm and unbothered. I wished I could have that level of calm.
“Let’s go left,” Mike said, pointing. “It looks like there’s some sort of old library over here.” Ancient-looking books were stacked in shelves up to the ceiling. Many of them were water-damaged or falling apart. Lillian moved apart from us, examining them with a frown.
“Why would someone leave all these books here? And the chandelier?” she asked. I shrugged, coming up next to her.
“Maybe all that stuff is just worthless,” I said.
“And not a single homeless person or kid has come here to steal the stuff they left behind?” she said. She had a good point. She pulled out a random book. Looking over her shoulder, I saw the title: “Human Sacrifice and the Black Arts.” The one next to it on the shelf read, “The Teachings of Moloch.”
“Pretty weird,” I said. But Lillian was no longer listening to me. She had opened the book and was reading it with wide eyes. Turning around, I saw Mike and Howie had gone.
“Oh shit, Lillian,” I whispered. “We lost them. How in the hell could we lose them? They were just right here.” And then I heard screaming coming from another room nearby. She dropped the book and we began to run, turning our headlamps this way and that.
We ran into the kitchen and saw Mike sprawled across an old table, his throat slashed from ear to ear. He was still alive, gurgling, his eyes frantically moving from one end of the room to another. The table appeared to be drinking his blood. Every drop that fell on it disappeared into the wood. He began to seize, his eyes rolling back in his head. Within seconds, he had stopped breathing, his fingernails and lips turning blue under the intense glare of our headlamps.
“Howie! Where are you?” I screamed. I didn’t know whether Howie had killed Mike or someone else was in here with us. I couldn’t see how Howie would do that to any of us, though. My mind moved towards the latter idea.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Lillian said, her hands trembling. “We need to call the police. We need to get out of here.” She reached into her pocket for her phone, dropping it on the floor in her panic. She picked it up, turning it on. “No service.”
“Let’s just go,” I whispered. “You go first.” I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling her chest heave as she began to cry. “We need to go, now.” I spun her around and began pushing her towards the front door. I looked back one last time, and saw Mike’s body deflating like a balloon. His blood spilled out of him faster and faster- which seemed strange, since he had no heartbeat. The table appeared to be melding with his body, his head and chest liquefying and stretching out. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the house itself. All the blood and gore had been cleaned up. Even his clothes were gone.
I didn’t share this with Lillian. I just pushed her faster. We saw the door was closed. I ran past her, trying to open it, but it was locked. I kicked it as hard as I could, putting as much force in the area around the knob as I could, but it was like kicking a metal wall. I shrieked with the pain as the force of the impact ran back up my leg.
I checked my phone, my hands trembling. It said there were zero bars in the house. I tried to send a text out anyways, first to 911, then to my parents. Both failed to send. Perhaps it was the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere, or perhaps the house had some sort of metal that interfered with cell reception. But it seemed no help was coming. Lillian began to cry harder.
“No help is coming, no help,” she sobbed.
“Get it together,” I said through gritted teeth. “We aren’t dying here. We have to find Howie and get all three of us out together. Do you have a weapon on you?” She shook her head, then she pulled out a lighter. “That’s… that’s not really a weapon, Lillian.”
“Maybe if we start a fire in the house, then people will see it, and help will come,” she said.
“With us inside?” I asked, aghast.
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” she said, crying harder. “I don’t want to die here, Steve. It isn’t supposed to be like this.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go explore and find another way out,” I said. Then I thought of the windows. “Maybe we can smash our way out of the windows!” She perked up at this. “There was a fireplace in the library. I think there was an old fire poker set next to it. We could use it as a weapon, or smash out a window with it…” We both ran to the library, and indeed, there was a whole set of fire pokers. One of them had a curved blade on the end, while the other was straight and sharp. I gave her the sharp one and pointed to the front window.
“Try it,” I said, my hopes soaring. She grabbed the fire poker. Bringing it back like a baseball bat, she swung with all of her might. Just like the door, it bounced off, the sound of ringing metal echoing through the room. She yelped in pain.
“It’s like some sort of bulletproof plexiglass or something!” she yelled. “What is this place?”
“Grab the poker anyways,” I said. “It’s time to explore the upstairs.” We trudged through the eerie darkness, shadows bobbing and dancing across the hall as we made our way to the ornate staircase. Grabbing it with one hand, I slowly started to ascend. Then a scream pierced the silence. It sounded like Howie’s voice.
I started to run up the stairs, hearing Lillian close behind me. We turned this way and that, looking down an endless hallway with many rooms branching off of each side. This house seemed so much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
The carpet on the hallway showed snakes and vines. They began to writhe and undulate, the patterns moving on their own. They began to separate, snake heads peering out of the carpet as if they had come from underwater. Their slit eyes glowed in the light of the headlamps. They hissed, dozens of them slithering towards us at once. We weren’t getting past them, I knew. I turned and nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get away, stumbling and grabbing onto the handrail as my back leg smashed into the wood. It sent a fiery jet of pain up my body.
Looking up, I saw Lillian still standing in place, horrified, her mask open in a silent scream as snake after snake coiled around her legs, going upwards. They bit into her flesh, spitting and hissing. Blood ran down her body. Soon she was covered entirely and fell over in the hallway, the mass of coiling snakes being dragged into the carpet by vines. As soon as her body had disappeared underneath the surface, the snakes and vines began to return to their original positions, and within seconds, I saw just a regular carpet again. She had been absorbed.
“Fuck,” I said, hyperventilating. I was all alone, I knew. I heard no more signs of Howie either. I thought about what to do. Desperate, scheming, I ran back towards the library. I felt in my pocket for my lighter, and grabbing a book, I began to pull pages out and run the flame under the corner. They caught quickly, the old, dried out paper going up in an inferno. I grabbed more books and tore out the pages, throwing them on the flames, intent on burning this house to the ground. The fact that I was still inside it didn’t register in my panicked mind. I knew that if I did nothing, I would die here. I had to destroy it.
Then from behind me, I heard a voice- low, jovial and mocking.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Howie said. I turned, seeing an expression of lunatic rage marring his face.
“I’m destroying this place,” I said. I paused for a moment, looking at him. “How are you still alive? Lillian and Mike are dead. The house ate them, I think.” He laughed.
“I know,” he said. “The house needs to be fed. It’s been in my family for generations. We always keep it well-fed in the end.” I gaped at him, uncomprehending. “You’ll be it’s last meal for the night…” He walked forward, pulling a bloody knife from his pocket. My fire poker was on the ground next to me. As he ran at me, the knife pointed straight out, I swung down, grabbing the fire poker and smashing it into the side of his head as hard as I could. I heard a crack when it connected with his skull. He fell, the knife clattering across the room, the flames bouncing off its stained metal surface.
The room behind me had begun to transform during our fight. Looking back into the shelves of library books, I saw them changing into a mouth. The wall opened up, the plaster morphing and melting. Two black eyes looked out at me, furious. Ancient, rusted nails formed into teeth. The wall began to bow outwards towards me. The fire grew larger in front of it, catching the carpet and wood now. I knew I needed to get out. But the door wouldn’t open for trespassers, and neither would the windows.
Suddenly, I had an idea. Sprinting away from the demonic face in the wall, I grabbed Howie’s unconscious body, dragging him by his legs to the front door. Using his hand, I gripped the knob. With a prayer, I tried to turn it- and the door flew open. Since he wasn’t a trespasser, the house wouldn’t keep him locked in.
Looking back at his unconscious body one last time, I swung the fire poker down on his head. I heard another crack as the side of his skull gave way, a jet of blood pouring out through the hole. I threw the weapon into the hall, running back towards the car. I tried the door, realizing it was locked. Mike had the keys on him when he had been absorbed.
Watching the house turn into a blazing inferno behind me, I began to walk down the dirt road- dirty, disheveled, and frightened, but alive.

After my parents had moved to a new town, I was forced to make friends all over again. It was my last year in high school and I didn’t know anybody. I ended up finding a crowd of kids who liked exploring abandoned buildings and smoking weed. There were worse fates, I guess. It was far better than being the new kid with no friends at all.
I found the old house on the edge of town, far down a dirt road that seemed to serve no purpose. I was riding my bike at the time. The next day, while we were at school, I reported back to my friends about it during lunch.
“We’ll go tonight,” Mike said, grinning at me.
“Steve always finds the most random crap,” Howie said, looking down at his tray. “Remember the time you found that underground tunnel in the mental asylum?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “That was pretty bizarre…” But this new house would be far stranger than anything before.
***
Four of us ended up going. Mike was always the leader, and also the only one with the car. His parents were wealthier than any of ours and had bought him a Cadillac on his 16th birthday. He was also the giant among us, standing well over six feet tall.
Howie was chubby and short. He was always cracking jokes at the worst possible time and getting in trouble. But I loved having him around. He was always in a good mood, always trying to raise everyone’s spirits.
And then there was Lillian. She was, by far, the smartest among us.
She came out with us sometimes, always wearing goth clothing. This week, her hair was dyed black with red streaks down it; next week, it would probably be something totally different.
We pulled up in front of the house, Mike squinting at it through the windshield of his Cadillac.
“Holy shit, that place is huge,” he said. In the dark, all I could see was its silhouette. Everyone else stayed silent, simply staring at the place. A chill ran down my spine. In the dark, it seemed far more ominous than it had in the bright afternoon.
“I hope we don’t find a family of inbred meth-heads living in there,” Howie said. “What is this road even for? There are no other houses on it. It doesn’t seem to go anywhere.” I had wondered the same thing. We all got out of the car, gathering our supplies. Each of us had a headlamp we usually used for nighttime explorations. Turning them all on, the yard lit up all at once.
In front of the house, across the massive, unkempt yard, I saw a sign I had missed the first time I had driven by this place on my bike: “Absolutely no trespassing. Trespassers will be absorbed.”
“What the fuck?” Howie said, laughing. “‘Trespassers will be absorbed’? That’s a new one. Absorbed into what? The cosmic soul? Hell? Or maybe the Russian military?” I looked around, feeling watched. In the forest next to the house, I saw a pair of white eyes, low to the ground. Whatever it was skittered away as soon as I turned my headlamp towards it. Probably just a possum, I thought to myself.
“That sign is likely just someone’s idea of a joke,” Mike said, putting his massive hand on Howie’s back. “Why don’t you go first, motormouth?” Howie looked up at MIke, a look of concern crossing his fat, jovial face for a moment. Then he turned towards the house and began walking. We followed close behind him. I was next to Lillian.
“You grew up in this town, right?” I asked her. She nodded. “Have you ever heard of this place, or this road?” I thought back to the faded road sign we had seen when we pulled onto it. “I think it said Gnawbone Road.” She frowned slightly.
“No, but this town’s nearly a few hundred years old,” she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s probably a lot of places like this we don’t know about. One time, before you moved here, we found an entire graveyard in the forest. The trees and brush had nearly reclaimed it, but there were still dozens of tombstones mostly intact. There wasn’t even a trail to it. It was like the whole thing had simply been forgotten and left to nature.”
By this point, Howie had reached the house, going up the rickety, creaking stairs. The front porch wrapped around the house. Old Victorian turrets stood high, blocking out the stars and the dark, nighttime clouds. The peeling red paint of the house had mostly been worn away over time, leaving stained wooden boards peeking out underneath.
We followed close behind. I saw an old rocking chair on the porch, still moving back and forth. Must be the wind, I thought.
Howie put his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, I hoped that it would simply be locked, and then we could just turn around and forget about this whole thing. But it wasn’t. The door opened silently, swinging in.
“Holy crap,” Mike said behind him, looking over Howie’s head into the darkness. His headlamp moved up and down as he checked out the front chamber. “Look at the size of that chandelier!” Lillian and I moved up close behind him and Howie. A huge glass chandelier still hung from the ceiling, covered in spiderwebs and black dust.
Underneath it, a massive staircase went up to the next floor. Dust covered the floor. Among it, I saw footprints. They looked fresh. They only went in, I noticed. Whoever it was must have taken a different way out.
“It looks like we aren’t the only ones who have been here,” I whispered. The rest of them examined the footprints as well.
“Maybe it’s just a daytime caretaker,” Mike said. “Let’s go.” We all stepped in, closing the door behind us. A faint musty smell permeated the house, along with something more repulsive- something like rot and spoiled meat. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely there.
“OK, where are we going first?” Lillian asked, her voice calm and unbothered. I wished I could have that level of calm.
“Let’s go left,” Mike said, pointing. “It looks like there’s some sort of old library over here.” Ancient-looking books were stacked in shelves up to the ceiling. Many of them were water-damaged or falling apart. Lillian moved apart from us, examining them with a frown.
“Why would someone leave all these books here? And the chandelier?” she asked. I shrugged, coming up next to her.
“Maybe all that stuff is just worthless,” I said.
“And not a single homeless person or kid has come here to steal the stuff they left behind?” she said. She had a good point. She pulled out a random book. Looking over her shoulder, I saw the title: “Human Sacrifice and the Black Arts.” The one next to it on the shelf read, “The Teachings of Moloch.”
“Pretty weird,” I said. But Lillian was no longer listening to me. She had opened the book and was reading it with wide eyes. Turning around, I saw Mike and Howie had gone.
“Oh shit, Lillian,” I whispered. “We lost them. How in the hell could we lose them? They were just right here.” And then I heard screaming coming from another room nearby. She dropped the book and we began to run, turning our headlamps this way and that.
We ran into the kitchen and saw Mike sprawled across an old table, his throat slashed from ear to ear. He was still alive, gurgling, his eyes frantically moving from one end of the room to another. The table appeared to be drinking his blood. Every drop that fell on it disappeared into the wood. He began to seize, his eyes rolling back in his head. Within seconds, he had stopped breathing, his fingernails and lips turning blue under the intense glare of our headlamps.
“Howie! Where are you?” I screamed. I didn’t know whether Howie had killed Mike or someone else was in here with us. I couldn’t see how Howie would do that to any of us, though. My mind moved towards the latter idea.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Lillian said, her hands trembling. “We need to call the police. We need to get out of here.” She reached into her pocket for her phone, dropping it on the floor in her panic. She picked it up, turning it on. “No service.”
“Let’s just go,” I whispered. “You go first.” I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling her chest heave as she began to cry. “We need to go, now.” I spun her around and began pushing her towards the front door. I looked back one last time, and saw Mike’s body deflating like a balloon. His blood spilled out of him faster and faster- which seemed strange, since he had no heartbeat. The table appeared to be melding with his body, his head and chest liquefying and stretching out. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the house itself. All the blood and gore had been cleaned up. Even his clothes were gone.
I didn’t share this with Lillian. I just pushed her faster. We saw the door was closed. I ran past her, trying to open it, but it was locked. I kicked it as hard as I could, putting as much force in the area around the knob as I could, but it was like kicking a metal wall. I shrieked with the pain as the force of the impact ran back up my leg.
I checked my phone, my hands trembling. It said there were zero bars in the house. I tried to send a text out anyways, first to 911, then to my parents. Both failed to send. Perhaps it was the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere, or perhaps the house had some sort of metal that interfered with cell reception. But it seemed no help was coming. Lillian began to cry harder.
“No help is coming, no help,” she sobbed.
“Get it together,” I said through gritted teeth. “We aren’t dying here. We have to find Howie and get all three of us out together. Do you have a weapon on you?” She shook her head, then she pulled out a lighter. “That’s… that’s not really a weapon, Lillian.”
“Maybe if we start a fire in the house, then people will see it, and help will come,” she said.
“With us inside?” I asked, aghast.
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” she said, crying harder. “I don’t want to die here, Steve. It isn’t supposed to be like this.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go explore and find another way out,” I said. Then I thought of the windows. “Maybe we can smash our way out of the windows!” She perked up at this. “There was a fireplace in the library. I think there was an old fire poker set next to it. We could use it as a weapon, or smash out a window with it…” We both ran to the library, and indeed, there was a whole set of fire pokers. One of them had a curved blade on the end, while the other was straight and sharp. I gave her the sharp one and pointed to the front window.
“Try it,” I said, my hopes soaring. She grabbed the fire poker. Bringing it back like a baseball bat, she swung with all of her might. Just like the door, it bounced off, the sound of ringing metal echoing through the room. She yelped in pain.
“It’s like some sort of bulletproof plexiglass or something!” she yelled. “What is this place?”
“Grab the poker anyways,” I said. “It’s time to explore the upstairs.” We trudged through the eerie darkness, shadows bobbing and dancing across the hall as we made our way to the ornate staircase. Grabbing it with one hand, I slowly started to ascend. Then a scream pierced the silence. It sounded like Howie’s voice.
I started to run up the stairs, hearing Lillian close behind me. We turned this way and that, looking down an endless hallway with many rooms branching off of each side. This house seemed so much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
The carpet on the hallway showed snakes and vines. They began to writhe and undulate, the patterns moving on their own. They began to separate, snake heads peering out of the carpet as if they had come from underwater. Their slit eyes glowed in the light of the headlamps. They hissed, dozens of them slithering towards us at once. We weren’t getting past them, I knew. I turned and nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get away, stumbling and grabbing onto the handrail as my back leg smashed into the wood. It sent a fiery jet of pain up my body.
Looking up, I saw Lillian still standing in place, horrified, her mask open in a silent scream as snake after snake coiled around her legs, going upwards. They bit into her flesh, spitting and hissing. Blood ran down her body. Soon she was covered entirely and fell over in the hallway, the mass of coiling snakes being dragged into the carpet by vines. As soon as her body had disappeared underneath the surface, the snakes and vines began to return to their original positions, and within seconds, I saw just a regular carpet again. She had been absorbed.
“Fuck,” I said, hyperventilating. I was all alone, I knew. I heard no more signs of Howie either. I thought about what to do. Desperate, scheming, I ran back towards the library. I felt in my pocket for my lighter, and grabbing a book, I began to pull pages out and run the flame under the corner. They caught quickly, the old, dried out paper going up in an inferno. I grabbed more books and tore out the pages, throwing them on the flames, intent on burning this house to the ground. The fact that I was still inside it didn’t register in my panicked mind. I knew that if I did nothing, I would die here. I had to destroy it.
Then from behind me, I heard a voice- low, jovial and mocking.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Howie said. I turned, seeing an expression of lunatic rage marring his face.
“I’m destroying this place,” I said. I paused for a moment, looking at him. “How are you still alive? Lillian and Mike are dead. The house ate them, I think.” He laughed.
“I know,” he said. “The house needs to be fed. It’s been in my family for generations. We always keep it well-fed in the end.” I gaped at him, uncomprehending. “You’ll be it’s last meal for the night…” He walked forward, pulling a bloody knife from his pocket. My fire poker was on the ground next to me. As he ran at me, the knife pointed straight out, I swung down, grabbing the fire poker and smashing it into the side of his head as hard as I could. I heard a crack when it connected with his skull. He fell, the knife clattering across the room, the flames bouncing off its stained metal surface.
The room behind me had begun to transform during our fight. Looking back into the shelves of library books, I saw them changing into a mouth. The wall opened up, the plaster morphing and melting. Two black eyes looked out at me, furious. Ancient, rusted nails formed into teeth. The wall began to bow outwards towards me. The fire grew larger in front of it, catching the carpet and wood now. I knew I needed to get out. But the door wouldn’t open for trespassers, and neither would the windows.
Suddenly, I had an idea. Sprinting away from the demonic face in the wall, I grabbed Howie’s unconscious body, dragging him by his legs to the front door. Using his hand, I gripped the knob. With a prayer, I tried to turn it- and the door flew open. Since he wasn’t a trespasser, the house wouldn’t keep him locked in.
Looking back at his unconscious body one last time, I swung the fire poker down on his head. I heard another crack as the side of his skull gave way, a jet of blood pouring out through the hole. I threw the weapon into the hall, running back towards the car. I tried the door, realizing it was locked. Mike had the keys on him when he had been absorbed.
Watching the house turn into a blazing inferno behind me, I began to walk down the dirt road- dirty, disheveled, and frightened, but alive.

After my parents had moved to a new town, I was forced to make friends all over again. It was my last year in high school and I didn’t know anybody. I ended up finding a crowd of kids who liked exploring abandoned buildings and smoking weed. There were worse fates, I guess. It was far better than being the new kid with no friends at all.
I found the old house on the edge of town, far down a dirt road that seemed to serve no purpose. I was riding my bike at the time. The next day, while we were at school, I reported back to my friends about it during lunch.
“We’ll go tonight,” Mike said, grinning at me.
“Steve always finds the most random crap,” Howie said, looking down at his tray. “Remember the time you found that underground tunnel in the mental asylum?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “That was pretty bizarre…” But this new house would be far stranger than anything before.
***
Four of us ended up going. Mike was always the leader, and also the only one with the car. His parents were wealthier than any of ours and had bought him a Cadillac on his 16th birthday. He was also the giant among us, standing well over six feet tall.
Howie was chubby and short. He was always cracking jokes at the worst possible time and getting in trouble. But I loved having him around. He was always in a good mood, always trying to raise everyone’s spirits.
And then there was Lillian. She was, by far, the smartest among us.
She came out with us sometimes, always wearing goth clothing. This week, her hair was dyed black with red streaks down it; next week, it would probably be something totally different.
We pulled up in front of the house, Mike squinting at it through the windshield of his Cadillac.
“Holy shit, that place is huge,” he said. In the dark, all I could see was its silhouette. Everyone else stayed silent, simply staring at the place. A chill ran down my spine. In the dark, it seemed far more ominous than it had in the bright afternoon.
“I hope we don’t find a family of inbred meth-heads living in there,” Howie said. “What is this road even for? There are no other houses on it. It doesn’t seem to go anywhere.” I had wondered the same thing. We all got out of the car, gathering our supplies. Each of us had a headlamp we usually used for nighttime explorations. Turning them all on, the yard lit up all at once.
In front of the house, across the massive, unkempt yard, I saw a sign I had missed the first time I had driven by this place on my bike: “Absolutely no trespassing. Trespassers will be absorbed.”
“What the fuck?” Howie said, laughing. “‘Trespassers will be absorbed’? That’s a new one. Absorbed into what? The cosmic soul? Hell? Or maybe the Russian military?” I looked around, feeling watched. In the forest next to the house, I saw a pair of white eyes, low to the ground. Whatever it was skittered away as soon as I turned my headlamp towards it. Probably just a possum, I thought to myself.
“That sign is likely just someone’s idea of a joke,” Mike said, putting his massive hand on Howie’s back. “Why don’t you go first, motormouth?” Howie looked up at MIke, a look of concern crossing his fat, jovial face for a moment. Then he turned towards the house and began walking. We followed close behind him. I was next to Lillian.
“You grew up in this town, right?” I asked her. She nodded. “Have you ever heard of this place, or this road?” I thought back to the faded road sign we had seen when we pulled onto it. “I think it said Gnawbone Road.” She frowned slightly.
“No, but this town’s nearly a few hundred years old,” she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s probably a lot of places like this we don’t know about. One time, before you moved here, we found an entire graveyard in the forest. The trees and brush had nearly reclaimed it, but there were still dozens of tombstones mostly intact. There wasn’t even a trail to it. It was like the whole thing had simply been forgotten and left to nature.”
By this point, Howie had reached the house, going up the rickety, creaking stairs. The front porch wrapped around the house. Old Victorian turrets stood high, blocking out the stars and the dark, nighttime clouds. The peeling red paint of the house had mostly been worn away over time, leaving stained wooden boards peeking out underneath.
We followed close behind. I saw an old rocking chair on the porch, still moving back and forth. Must be the wind, I thought.
Howie put his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, I hoped that it would simply be locked, and then we could just turn around and forget about this whole thing. But it wasn’t. The door opened silently, swinging in.
“Holy crap,” Mike said behind him, looking over Howie’s head into the darkness. His headlamp moved up and down as he checked out the front chamber. “Look at the size of that chandelier!” Lillian and I moved up close behind him and Howie. A huge glass chandelier still hung from the ceiling, covered in spiderwebs and black dust.
Underneath it, a massive staircase went up to the next floor. Dust covered the floor. Among it, I saw footprints. They looked fresh. They only went in, I noticed. Whoever it was must have taken a different way out.
“It looks like we aren’t the only ones who have been here,” I whispered. The rest of them examined the footprints as well.
“Maybe it’s just a daytime caretaker,” Mike said. “Let’s go.” We all stepped in, closing the door behind us. A faint musty smell permeated the house, along with something more repulsive- something like rot and spoiled meat. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely there.
“OK, where are we going first?” Lillian asked, her voice calm and unbothered. I wished I could have that level of calm.
“Let’s go left,” Mike said, pointing. “It looks like there’s some sort of old library over here.” Ancient-looking books were stacked in shelves up to the ceiling. Many of them were water-damaged or falling apart. Lillian moved apart from us, examining them with a frown.
“Why would someone leave all these books here? And the chandelier?” she asked. I shrugged, coming up next to her.
“Maybe all that stuff is just worthless,” I said.
“And not a single homeless person or kid has come here to steal the stuff they left behind?” she said. She had a good point. She pulled out a random book. Looking over her shoulder, I saw the title: “Human Sacrifice and the Black Arts.” The one next to it on the shelf read, “The Teachings of Moloch.”
“Pretty weird,” I said. But Lillian was no longer listening to me. She had opened the book and was reading it with wide eyes. Turning around, I saw Mike and Howie had gone.
“Oh shit, Lillian,” I whispered. “We lost them. How in the hell could we lose them? They were just right here.” And then I heard screaming coming from another room nearby. She dropped the book and we began to run, turning our headlamps this way and that.
We ran into the kitchen and saw Mike sprawled across an old table, his throat slashed from ear to ear. He was still alive, gurgling, his eyes frantically moving from one end of the room to another. The table appeared to be drinking his blood. Every drop that fell on it disappeared into the wood. He began to seize, his eyes rolling back in his head. Within seconds, he had stopped breathing, his fingernails and lips turning blue under the intense glare of our headlamps.
“Howie! Where are you?” I screamed. I didn’t know whether Howie had killed Mike or someone else was in here with us. I couldn’t see how Howie would do that to any of us, though. My mind moved towards the latter idea.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Lillian said, her hands trembling. “We need to call the police. We need to get out of here.” She reached into her pocket for her phone, dropping it on the floor in her panic. She picked it up, turning it on. “No service.”
“Let’s just go,” I whispered. “You go first.” I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling her chest heave as she began to cry. “We need to go, now.” I spun her around and began pushing her towards the front door. I looked back one last time, and saw Mike’s body deflating like a balloon. His blood spilled out of him faster and faster- which seemed strange, since he had no heartbeat. The table appeared to be melding with his body, his head and chest liquefying and stretching out. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the house itself. All the blood and gore had been cleaned up. Even his clothes were gone.
I didn’t share this with Lillian. I just pushed her faster. We saw the door was closed. I ran past her, trying to open it, but it was locked. I kicked it as hard as I could, putting as much force in the area around the knob as I could, but it was like kicking a metal wall. I shrieked with the pain as the force of the impact ran back up my leg.
I checked my phone, my hands trembling. It said there were zero bars in the house. I tried to send a text out anyways, first to 911, then to my parents. Both failed to send. Perhaps it was the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere, or perhaps the house had some sort of metal that interfered with cell reception. But it seemed no help was coming. Lillian began to cry harder.
“No help is coming, no help,” she sobbed.
“Get it together,” I said through gritted teeth. “We aren’t dying here. We have to find Howie and get all three of us out together. Do you have a weapon on you?” She shook her head, then she pulled out a lighter. “That’s… that’s not really a weapon, Lillian.”
“Maybe if we start a fire in the house, then people will see it, and help will come,” she said.
“With us inside?” I asked, aghast.
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” she said, crying harder. “I don’t want to die here, Steve. It isn’t supposed to be like this.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go explore and find another way out,” I said. Then I thought of the windows. “Maybe we can smash our way out of the windows!” She perked up at this. “There was a fireplace in the library. I think there was an old fire poker set next to it. We could use it as a weapon, or smash out a window with it…” We both ran to the library, and indeed, there was a whole set of fire pokers. One of them had a curved blade on the end, while the other was straight and sharp. I gave her the sharp one and pointed to the front window.
“Try it,” I said, my hopes soaring. She grabbed the fire poker. Bringing it back like a baseball bat, she swung with all of her might. Just like the door, it bounced off, the sound of ringing metal echoing through the room. She yelped in pain.
“It’s like some sort of bulletproof plexiglass or something!” she yelled. “What is this place?”
“Grab the poker anyways,” I said. “It’s time to explore the upstairs.” We trudged through the eerie darkness, shadows bobbing and dancing across the hall as we made our way to the ornate staircase. Grabbing it with one hand, I slowly started to ascend. Then a scream pierced the silence. It sounded like Howie’s voice.
I started to run up the stairs, hearing Lillian close behind me. We turned this way and that, looking down an endless hallway with many rooms branching off of each side. This house seemed so much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
The carpet on the hallway showed snakes and vines. They began to writhe and undulate, the patterns moving on their own. They began to separate, snake heads peering out of the carpet as if they had come from underwater. Their slit eyes glowed in the light of the headlamps. They hissed, dozens of them slithering towards us at once. We weren’t getting past them, I knew. I turned and nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get away, stumbling and grabbing onto the handrail as my back leg smashed into the wood. It sent a fiery jet of pain up my body.
Looking up, I saw Lillian still standing in place, horrified, her mask open in a silent scream as snake after snake coiled around her legs, going upwards. They bit into her flesh, spitting and hissing. Blood ran down her body. Soon she was covered entirely and fell over in the hallway, the mass of coiling snakes being dragged into the carpet by vines. As soon as her body had disappeared underneath the surface, the snakes and vines began to return to their original positions, and within seconds, I saw just a regular carpet again. She had been absorbed.
“Fuck,” I said, hyperventilating. I was all alone, I knew. I heard no more signs of Howie either. I thought about what to do. Desperate, scheming, I ran back towards the library. I felt in my pocket for my lighter, and grabbing a book, I began to pull pages out and run the flame under the corner. They caught quickly, the old, dried out paper going up in an inferno. I grabbed more books and tore out the pages, throwing them on the flames, intent on burning this house to the ground. The fact that I was still inside it didn’t register in my panicked mind. I knew that if I did nothing, I would die here. I had to destroy it.
Then from behind me, I heard a voice- low, jovial and mocking.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Howie said. I turned, seeing an expression of lunatic rage marring his face.
“I’m destroying this place,” I said. I paused for a moment, looking at him. “How are you still alive? Lillian and Mike are dead. The house ate them, I think.” He laughed.
“I know,” he said. “The house needs to be fed. It’s been in my family for generations. We always keep it well-fed in the end.” I gaped at him, uncomprehending. “You’ll be it’s last meal for the night…” He walked forward, pulling a bloody knife from his pocket. My fire poker was on the ground next to me. As he ran at me, the knife pointed straight out, I swung down, grabbing the fire poker and smashing it into the side of his head as hard as I could. I heard a crack when it connected with his skull. He fell, the knife clattering across the room, the flames bouncing off its stained metal surface.
The room behind me had begun to transform during our fight. Looking back into the shelves of library books, I saw them changing into a mouth. The wall opened up, the plaster morphing and melting. Two black eyes looked out at me, furious. Ancient, rusted nails formed into teeth. The wall began to bow outwards towards me. The fire grew larger in front of it, catching the carpet and wood now. I knew I needed to get out. But the door wouldn’t open for trespassers, and neither would the windows.
Suddenly, I had an idea. Sprinting away from the demonic face in the wall, I grabbed Howie’s unconscious body, dragging him by his legs to the front door. Using his hand, I gripped the knob. With a prayer, I tried to turn it- and the door flew open. Since he wasn’t a trespasser, the house wouldn’t keep him locked in.
Looking back at his unconscious body one last time, I swung the fire poker down on his head. I heard another crack as the side of his skull gave way, a jet of blood pouring out through the hole. I threw the weapon into the hall, running back towards the car. I tried the door, realizing it was locked. Mike had the keys on him when he had been absorbed.
Watching the house turn into a blazing inferno behind me, I began to walk down the dirt road- dirty, disheveled, and frightened, but alive.

Drought Tolerant? Expensive? Full sun? Shade? Genetics of an inbred European royalty?
N.O.T. this question my liege.
What's the cutest ground cover you know works here in Portland. Bonus points if you can provide photos!
You will gain upvotes, respect, and a dirty joke. Also, others might be able to learn about which plants instead of grass can help trap moisture yadayadayada
In case you thought I was bluffing... Dont worry about the constipated mathmetican, he worked it out with a pencil. Cutest ground cover that money can buy

I saw a post today where a “joke” was made and basically being Appalachian was the punchline. It was a scrawny looking, “inbred” person made from an AI generated image. So, there was not a real person being made fun of.
However, it still makes me frustrated. And I saw other people in the comments saying they were Appalachian and didn’t mind. So, I thought maybe I’m just a sissy or something. But it just makes me mad because there are real people with real problems that are not getting help. And then to turn around and make fun of these people is just wrong to me. But, like I said, maybe I’m getting sucked into the “soft” mindset.
Just wanted to see what opinions you guys had.

We go most of a game with no commander so I step up and play it and call in supply does, airheads, and air support but I still get kicked for abuse when these inbreds refuse to play commander and complain that no one will do it but when someone does it they whine and complain and kick if it's not perfect this game is a joke

“On a cloudy day, a man writes again. Returning to the challenge. Rising up to fight it head on. Fighting to keep his dream and passion alive. His will to overcome this. You could say he has the heart of a survivor. A true eye of a tiger if you must say”
“A knight of the people going up against the king of greed, with the court jester throwing in chaos, unexpected….”
An unexpected what…. What was an unexpected joke, prank? Chaotic checkmate?
“A knight of the people going up against the king of greed, with the court jester throwing in chaos, an unexpected checkmate of chaos or one of pure stupidity, both pondered this. Trying to think what was this one’s motive, his origin, why do this. Why make this scene? What does he have to gain from this? Who was this Unga? Why did he choose to be the Catfish Of Crime?”
Okay I think this is good, so…..
“Agnu wondered who he was, looking at the heist frame by frame. Not stopping till he studied everything that he could get from Unga”
Okay I say this is going fine so far, just…. No idea what to talk to myself about….. this is just sad, even for me….. Wonder if I can beat up Linkara again, teach him a lesson to not mess with Golems.
Also why was he sent after me? To bring me in? Bring me in what?
“Scotch takes a bite from a cookie that Xerxes brought him”
This is really good, also having a brain blast! That one sided beatdown of breaking a man’s ego got me to think and write! What to do now? “Scotch looks out the window looking at the weather” Brain blast! I’m gonna lasso the Sun!
Hey Antoine! I want to lasso the sun!
Wha?
Antoine! I need rope or chains, and you have a lot of both! So where are they?
“Antoine is just confused as hell right now to Scotch’s stupidity”
Tha thu gòrach! (You are stupid)
I have no idea what you said but I’m gonna take it as your full support!
Carson? Carson a nì thu seo? (Why? Why do you do this?)
Now where’s the rope and chains?
“Antoine just decided to say fuck it and leaves the house disappearing by falling backwards into his own shadow, with his shadow falling on itself”
He’s been hanging out with Delorem too much. Well anyways time to figure out how to lasso the sun, also the sun gods, goddess, and deity’s….. who actually owns or is in charge of the sun…. Some say it’s Ra’s eye, while others live in the sun or control it.
“In the high heavens a council looks at a warrior of hell, dawned in silver and obsidian armor, weapons strewn across his back, a helmet made out of a skull of a forgotten horror, reinforced with hellish runes”
Who may you be?
I am Aphuch the Fallen King of Kerzio, the slayer of arch-angel Luddios and Hatho. The man who challenged Glass Scotch to a duel and was able to almost defeat him.
“Engel looks at Kafizel at the line of “almost defeating glass scotch”
You say that’s something to be proud of? Almost dying to him? Losing your kingdom to him? By what was it?
A contest that was about punching demon rats…. How do you even get to that?
Look it was a drunken contest….. which I signed because I thought I could win…. I was proven wrong…… very wrong…..
He punched 1 million, you punched 2 thousand….. how?
Look, I was very drunk and high on some drugs…. Honest drunk and high state mistake.
Look we wanna hire you to take out Glass Scotch, when we take out. Kill Him!
Destroy His Very Being! Send Him To The Personal Hell We Made For Him!
Will do, but if I may ask what’s in it for me?
Your kingdom shall be returned to you, the sword of Alzrothie shall be restored, the power of Khotho’s crown shall be restored, and you will be able to see her again.
Deal. “He said this with an emotional voice” I will do anything to see her again.
Then you shall slay this sin to creation itself.
And I shall for creation, swear on the heavens and hell I shall follow through!
“Cut back to Scotch searching the basement for rope and chains”
Man why does Antoine have so much rope? Also why are their hooks above the small bed he has down here? Gotta ask him, really gotta ask him……………
“In the background a pipe is leaking”
Oh yeah, gotta fix that. “Scotch picks up a cuff and puts it around the leak” Why does Antoine have cuffs? I really need to ask him about this stuff.
“After several hours Scotch made a rope, duck tape, and chain combination. With his lasso in hand, he’s gets on the roof and waits for the sun”
I never checked the weather…… never checked the weather………. I am an idiot. Well time to check it.
Oi! Glass Scotch! I Challenge Thy!
“Scene is Scotch on the roof, while Aphuch is on the front lawn”
Hey do you know the weather?
What?
I said do you know the weather?
Why would I know the weather?
Can you check? I’m trying to lasso the sun.
“he’s just confused as all hell” What?
I’m trying to lasso the sun, also do you have a hearing problem?
No……. I’m just confused…. Why?
Why not? Also do you know which god, goddess, or entity actually owns the sun?
……………………….. that’s a good question…………….
Yeah I know, that’s what I’m trying to find out.
But why this way?
Dude, you know how hard it is to deal with other gods, goddesses, and entities? Most have big egos, like dude they just constantly fight and argue. Or they just be straight up assholes, like Poseidon kidnapping princesses, Zeus he’s a piece of shit, Egyptian gods are inbreds, just terrible.
Except for Anteros before going on his eldritch emo phase, also I’m gonna swallow my ego here Lillian.
You know what “ponders his orb” the weather in this area is gonna be cloudy for the rest of the week.
Oh, looks like we need to move to a different location. Also you seem familiar……. Did we compete against each other?
Yeah……. The demon rat punching contest………
Oh that was you, so you want your kingdom back? Cause I don’t have any reason to own one.
Hey umm, I was hired to kill you….. and one of the promises was that I would be able to see my wife again, and my child….
Oh man, where’s your wife being held at?
……… you want to piss off Arch-Angels?
Hey I’m already gonna lasso the sun, so why not?
Yeah, being held at the Theriovial Ertanal Prison.
“Scotch opens up a portal entering it and returning right next to Aphuch a couple minutes later with Lesuia”
Got your wife, also should have mentioned she was pregnant.
Lesuia……
Aphuch…..
“The long lost couple finally reunite, both embracing each other, while Scotch is feeling uncomfortable with this and decides to get deed to Kerzio Kingdom, entering the house and stumbling upon Antoine in the living room”
So you finally realized that lassoing the sun is stupid?
Well I got interrupted, and learned that it’s cloudy.
“A reporter on tv talking about recent events”
Cassaria Cogsworth the Angel Empress of light and darkness challenged Cheezard to a Wizard Council Duel, with her winning by default due to Cheezard never showing up and therefore surrendering.
I have a brain blast.
“Antoine decides to just fall through his shadow again, not wanting to deal with Scotches stupidity”