My boss has always been supportive of me. I’ve gotten high reviews from him each year, he’s advocated for me to get higher pay, always been very open about being very happy with me and my work.
One of the older assistants here though, has taken a dislike to me ever since I’ve begun to grow professionally. It began with her taking digs about my clothes, insinuating I had a poor personality and had treated her rudely, and has progressed to her going around telling people I’m a b*tch and she’s sure I “just have to have” a mental illness or personality disorder like autism or bipolar. She’s also been spreading rumors, trying to ridicule me in groups by saying that I like the boss romantically, have a relationship with him, am retarded or weird or have such a wildly undesirable personality to work with, barely talk, am almost basically “retarded”
I approached my attorney expressing concern and because I wanted to give him reign to handle it how he wanted. He basically acted annoyed and like I was being a real bother or behaving childishly to try and address it openly. He showed visible signs of wanting/ trying to get away as I was talking to him. Like physically trying to walk off as I was talking. I got the impression maybe he didn’t want the legal responsibility of having been told something that he could be held liable for not acting on of correcting. He also claimed he couldn’t do anything as he works with her boss (this is true but that work is extremely extremely minor so basically just an excuse). I went to HR as he was not helpful and it’s obviously something that needs to be documented or that I need to get on the record about.
Meanwhile, the woman has been trying to turn everyone in the space against me especially the other older women by constantly complaining in the loudest fashion that I’m rude to her, and have treated her like a b-tch. The reality is I’ve done nothing to her but withdraw because she’s been calling me- autistic, retarded, mentally ill and a b-tch and loudly complaining to everyone who will listen within earshot of me that I have a shit personality and am “hell to work with”.
Obviously her behavior is wrong and that’s being handled but I don’t want advice on her. My issue is my boss. He knows what’s going on but tries to deny knowing anything even though we both know I literally spoke to him about it. He also obviously had a convo with HR about it as they repeated some things to me, that I only said to him.
My real issue is that he’s begun to act very disdainful toward me. Turning his back right to my face in group conversations with the team. Acknowledging others while ignoring me. Basically pushing me right out his office when I come with documents, only to then make a big show of ushering others in and having long personal convos with others after telling me he has no time for me and basically closing the door in my face. The behavior has been very ugly.
To this point there had been big bonuses, big cash christmas gifts, floral arrangements on admin day. I was of the impression he liked me and was quite happy with my work. Now that all seems to have changed and he seems almost physically angry with me, or blaming of me- like Ive embarrassed him, even though I’ve done nothing in this situation.
I’ve honestly gotten more empathy from the attorneys of the women bullying me as they see what she is saying and doing and shake their heads. Meanwhile, I get my the impression my own attorney is doing damage control around me but in a way that’s suggestive of me being the problem. Like I have issues to work on or am somehow the person with personality issues in this one-sided “dispute” which is really just plain bullying and harassment. He continues to make a show of talking and laughing with the woman responsible, while acting angry and excluding of me and I can’t even talk to him because I’m basically being blocked from visiting his office while I can see this woman and her friends are constantly allowed in his ear with negativity about me.
What is your take on my bosses behavior. I understand if he feels he can’t take a position publicly or politically owing to his status in the office but there are many ways he could show support for me off the record or behind the scenes and he hasn’t so much as nodded in my direction or said “it’s just jealousy. keep your head up”. Yet I notice he has time to entertain negative speculation about my mental health and personality from this woman and her cronies though and has refused to condemn her behavior in anyway. Instead he has made insinuations that we work together as a team and support one another- basically implying that he’s chiding me for not being a team player. He constantly talks to this woman’s best friend who I quite literally hear telling him I’m rude and there’s something mentally wrong with him. The impression I get from him in these convos- is one of slight assent- certainly not telling them they’re wrong. Meanwhile, despite the many super ugly and derogatory slurs being thrown against me daily, openly in the space, meant to humiliate and embarrass me and muddy me professionally they really can’t point to a single thing I’ve said or done that would qualify as inappropriate or mistreatment of them- except to say I don’t really speak to them anymore.
She basically rallied other people to bully me, especially under the older women under the pretense that I’ve treated her rudely and need to be taught a lesson, put in my place. My bosses, not just lack of support, but subtle collusion feels like violence to me at this point and I can’t imagine why would motivate him to treat me so badly even as I continue to crawl through hell to perform excellently for him in an increasingly shitty and emotionally violent situation to me.
Who’s in the wrong is not in dispute. I took her to HR and she admitted very openly and gloatingly to all the slurs she said and also admitted, I hadn’t really done anything to her, just felt “rejected I didn’t speak to her” and that “made her mad”. Not to mention she’s been going from person to person and big group so there are many witnesses. Meanwhile, my boss has continued to act like i may have emotional problems and have imagined it. Like it’s still unsure if she’s done any of this stuff. And like I somehow need to straighten up my act and make sure I’m being respectful of them. I’ve literally see him trying to watch if I say good morning to these older women when I come in and expressing physical disapproval, acting angry at me if I don’t. Meanwhile he hasn’t held them accountable for any of their behavior.
I basically feel I’m being gaslit by him acting angry at me in a way that’s meant to suggest i’m the problem or the one who needs to adjust themself and keep spinning wheels trying to please in a wildly shitty and rude situation that anyone would leave. I think he’s trying to force a position where I’m being emotionally invalidated and manipulated to try harder and seek his approval, to distract from the fact that they’re totally wrong and deserve to be left. Could also be that he just refuses to admit anyone older can be wrong. It’s like he continues to angrily push respect to them on me while they themselves are wildly disrespectful with no checks. They are older, 50s and 60s and I’m a little younger. I can see that he continues to talk to these older women about me confidentially over my head in a way that’s rather personal, as feels inappropriate and unprofessional especially considering the circumstances, to me.
What do you make of his actions and how should I handle him? And I wrong to take issue with his inactions and obvious chumminess with people who we both know to be clearly speaking i’ll of me in a way that’s wildly inappropriate for an office and could get them sued. It’s giving followe afraid to stand alone energy to me.

Apologies, this is a long one... My now fiance had never had a relationship with his Mum and hadn't had any contact with her since he was around 6 years old. Years into our relationship she contacted him begging for a chance to get to know him and of course I encouraged it because I felt it would be incredibly healing for him! When I met him I already had a 1 year old daughter. He's raised our daughter as his own and she eventually started calling him Dad as her bio Dad hadn't been around since she was 6 months old. He's been an amazing Dad, so loving, caring and protective. We have recently had a baby together and he'd been an incredible support through pregnancy and our baby being born. MIL is of course super happy about being around in our lives to witness us have a baby together and is loving being a grandparent. But here comes the problem. She keeps making comments infront of my daughter despite knowing that she knows me and my fiance as Mum and Dad. When we last visited her she repeatedly said to my Daughter, "oh I'm so glad to finally meet one of my grandchildren" (meaning the baby). "Oh I can't believe I only have grandsons no granddaughters." And the gut kicker was, "gosh you look so much like your Mum I couldn't even begin to imagine what your Dad looks like"!!!! She even refers to him by his name to my daughter instead of Dad but only when he isn't in the room. There has been more little digs from her here and there but I never let them bother me as I know this woman secretly can not stand me. Now my daughters 11, every comment I saw her face drop a little more and I was shaking with anger. After that I kept quiet with one word answers and made excuses to leave as I didn't want a scene infront of my kids. When we got home and the kids were in bed I brought it up to my fiance, about how uncomfortable it made me and our daughter. He made excuses for her doing it and even said you don't understand its different for men then women. Still have no idea what he meant by that but it made me emotional enough that I ended the conversation there and then and walked out the room. I haven't brought it up again because he's clearly going to defend his Mum no matter what I say or feel but I feel so turned off by him now. I've took over all parenting of my daughter and am considering walking away even though he is a fantastic Dad to both kids. I don't know if I can move on from him defending the things she said, or am I just being petty and need to get over it?

I was with my ex for nearly 2 years we come from a culture and religion where marriage is the ultimate and we don't just date for fun. The whole relationship was a whirlwind and I'm not usually a trusting person but with him he was telling me he loved me a 2 week into the relationship. Needless to say the rest we moved very fast constant dates constant soppy I love youse and I really could be myself around him, he was my first real relationship at 25 he was 24.
Within maybe 2 months I noticed he would lie about stupid silly things which really bother me because I hate it when people lie I caught him out a few times and he would cry and say he couldn't live without me and I would always end up staying,, I had a bad feeling one time and contacted his ex girlfriend who said they were still in contact now I'm not sure whether she lied about that or whether he lied. Regardless I continued to be with him as he cried and said she was lying then I found he was sending pictures of other girls to his boys group chats with really horrendous messages on what he wanted to do to them and would say it's 'boys banter' it did get toxic and became a cycle of lies crying and me being moody. He was unemployed when I met him and I worked really hard to do his applications and prepped him for interviews which resulted in him getting the job he wanted. it wasn't all bad we had some really good times too and that led us to get the families involved to get married his family didn't like me because I was from a different caste and he essentially fought to get married to me. We were so close our deposits down on venues and everything and had our wedding in 5 months. Something in my gut wasn't right and I did some digging and found something else out and before you all start on me for going looking for issues I asked him numerous times to clarify everything so I could draw a line but he just wouldn't and I kept finding things out. I met him 2 days before dooms day and we talked about our honeymoon our wedding and I told him about some health issues I was having and under the care of neurology. He told me he loved me and would never leave me. 2 nights after we argued and I deleted him but this time was different he didn't contact me or anything the next day I contacted him and he was a different person blunt rude and dismissive I asked him to meet me so we could talk in person he came and was just different I was crying whilst he smirked and told me he needed space because it was all too toxic. That same night he messaged other women he met someone 3 weeks after me and told her he loved her within 2 weeks she was his auntys neighbour and his sister in laws friend who were suprise suprise from the same caste. 2 years on and they tied the knot I'm still not over it and people are sick of listening to me crying about it I'm sick of myself doing that all I've done this past 2 years is cry and miss him every day I'm at a point where I don't even want to be here anymore so I can avoid feeling like this. Not to mention I gained weight in the relationship and after due to emotional eating I haven't dates since I've been to therapy numerous holidays nothing works. I have adhd and awaiting medication for that but I feel like I'll never get over it whilst they got married and moved into their new house living their happily ever after

I was with my ex for nearly 2 years we come from a culture and religion where marriage is the ultimate and we don't just date for fun. The whole relationship was a whirlwind and I'm not usually a trusting person but with him he was telling me he loved me a 2 week into the relationship. Needless to say the rest we moved very fast constant dates constant soppy I love youse and I really could be myself around him, he was my first real relationship at 25 he was 24.
Within maybe 2 months I noticed he would lie about stupid silly things which really bother me because I hate it when people lie I caught him out a few times and he would cry and say he couldn't live without me and I would always end up staying,, I had a bad feeling one time and contacted his ex girlfriend who said they were still in contact now I'm not sure whether she lied about that or whether he lied. Regardless I continued to be with him as he cried and said she was lying then I found he was sending pictures of other girls to his boys group chats with really horrendous messages on what he wanted to do to them and would say it's 'boys banter' it did get toxic and became a cycle of lies crying and me being moody. He was unemployed when I met him and I worked really hard to do his applications and prepped him for interviews which resulted in him getting the job he wanted. it wasn't all bad we had some really good times too and that led us to get the families involved to get married his family didn't like me because I was from a different caste and he essentially fought to get married to me. We were so close our deposits down on venues and everything and had our wedding in 5 months. Something in my gut wasn't right and I did some digging and found something else out and before you all start on me for going looking for issues I asked him numerous times to clarify everything so I could draw a line but he just wouldn't and I kept finding things out. I met him 2 days before dooms day and we talked about our honeymoon our wedding and I told him about some health issues I was having and under the care of neurology. He told me he loved me and would never leave me. 2 nights after we argued and I deleted him but this time was different he didn't contact me or anything the next day I contacted him and he was a different person blunt rude and dismissive I asked him to meet me so we could talk in person he came and was just different I was crying whilst he smirked and told me he needed space because it was all too toxic. That same night he messaged other women he met someone 3 weeks after me and told her he loved her within 2 weeks she was his auntys neighbour and his sister in laws friend who were suprise suprise from the same caste. 2 years on and they tied the knot I'm still not over it and people are sick of listening to me crying about it I'm sick of myself doing that all I've done this past 2 years is cry and miss him every day I'm at a point where I don't even want to be here anymore so I can avoid feeling like this. Not to mention I gained weight in the relationship and after due to emotional eating I haven't dates since I've been to therapy numerous holidays nothing works. I have adhd and awaiting medication for that but I feel like I'll never get over it whilst they got married and moved into their new house living their happily ever after

The fact that I have to write this and seek advice truly sucks... I'm m(30) was married to my wife for 6 years, together total for 9 years f(35) we have two beautiful boys together 3 and 2 years old... my wife recently called off our marriage and said she was done with this life and didn't want it anymore. I found it off, because things were pretty normal for the most part.
I later dug around and found out she was cheating on me beginning of march while I was in school to become a firefighter. During this time she was in between jobs and had free time. She built a "connection" with an older gentleman, on the heavier side and he's older close to his late 40 early 50 probably. They worked together and they would go to lunch together during work hours and built a connection that I was not privy to during our marriage. She cheated on me right after we dropped off our kids at daycare, said goodbye and I love you like a normal couple would, and she drove right to a hotel to be with this gentleman... I didn't find this out until after the breakup as a reminder and done some digging... turns out she's still with this man, and thinks she's in love with him.. get this kicker, he's also married, and told my wife he would leave his for her so they can be together.
That was early March and he's still with her. But still with my separated wife now also... we live in the same house still because financially we can't just leave. We have to sell our house and go separate ways. We live in separate rooms on opposite sides of the home and barely share contact unless it has to do with the kids. She filed for divorce from me with a lawyer without talking to me about it and I'm being served papers. So now I have to get a lawyer to protect myself and the agreement is nothing changes with the kids. And we want their routine to be the same with school and visits. 50 50 custody. And she just wants both of us to go our own ways and move on. Cause clearly she has... what pains me is this woman treats me as a ghost now.
The woman who I'm still madly in love with and still see her the same as when she met me down the aisle. The same woman I saw give birth to both our kids.... but she doesn't love me anymore and isn't attracted to me and wants to be with him and is attracted to him now... what do I do? How do I cope... how do I move on? I need all the help I can get because I'm slowly losing my mind. And I've just been in a state of anger, depression, betrayal, and just feel like I never knew this woman at all.... the woman I married would never have done this to me. First couple of weeks I won't lie. I would corner her and show her what I was to her and what she meant to me... and how our family was more important but her mind was fully made up... and she didn't want to hear it.
I was there for her at her lowest points of her life. And helped build her into the woman she is, she was a drunk and I broke that curse and she was sober ever since... idk what I did wrong to deserve this... she claims I was a good husband, a great father, and a good person. So idk what to do or how to act. Please help.

I'd like to share a lengthy and self-indulgent note about my history with the Baha'i community and the impact it had on my family and me. It's worth noting that I'm sharing this using a throwaway Reddit account that I generally reserve for browsing porn. I find funny to imagine a Baha'i apologist reading this, becoming angry and judgmental, and then, investigating my profile and ending up jerking off. With that said, let's dive into my story.
I want to share my experience in case it resonates with someone else, a lot of the stories on this Reddit helped me, and perhaps my story will give some comfort to someone else. It has taken me a while to write this down, and I'm glad I finally got around to doing it.
My parents emigrated from their homeland for reasons of principle and value. Upon their arrival, they were greeted by Baha'is who met them. And so, lovebombed and lavished with love, praise, and celebration for moving countries due to values that they portrayed as being closely aligned with the Baha'i faith, my parents fell for this validation and worked very hard once they became Baha'is in the mid-1980s.
My dad got rid of all of his whiskies, and swiftly, my parents began hosting potlucks and fireside chats, diligently working to integrate into the Baha'i ecosystem. Back then, the atmosphere was fairly light-hearted, with devotional gatherings, prayers, and a somewhat 1960s-esque hippie vibe. There was live guitar music, and joss sticks.
However, I remember Baha'i classes having an interesting edge. We were taught that Buddhists were not following a religion but merely a way of life, and that Hindus had become pantheistic because they had lost the core of their faith and religion, which had become corrupted over time. Thanks to Google, I can discover that yes indeed, this is from Lights of Guidance.
There was a significant emphasis on the importance of gender equality and the oneness of humanity – because, hey, the eighties. I feel sad there isn't anything anymore about the Virtues project - even if the Virtues project was sort of framed like it was created by Bahais.
Even in the 1980s, there was an overwhelming atmosphere that the key to being a good Baha'i was how you presented yourself rather than your actual behaviour. I recall learning an apocryphal tale of a young Baha'i who, while fasting, participated in an aerobics class and nearly fainted (yeah, aerobics, this is a real 80s fable), but was told by another Baha'i to prioritize representing the faith well over completing the fast because *it looked bad*. From a very early age, I learned the importance of putting the right face forward.
My parents then took their relationship with the Baha'i faith to the next level and volunteered at the World Centre in Haifa. As a child, this was a pretty interesting experience. I was suddenly immersed in the Iranian, or rather, Persian community, with its strong culture of martyrdom. Even as a child, every event seemed to feature graphic videos depicting young kids being taken from their homes. It was quite frightening, and I remember being afraid.
I also recall a strong sense of hierarchy within the community. My family lived in a small apartment with a very old, busted-up car from the 1970s, while others resided in nice homes with pleasant views and drove nice cars. I attended a local Israeli school, which was a cultural experience in itself, while my peers my age went to the much fancier American school. It's important to note that, at this point, the conversation about the "great catastrophe" – two-thirds of the world's population dying, leading to a period of peace and the entry by troops – was a prevalent topic openly discussed at the World Centre.
We completed our stint there, even living through the Gulf War. Upon returning to my birth country, my parents chose to live in places with smaller Baha'i communities, as they wanted to support and help establish Local Spiritual Assemblies. Things had changed by this point, not only because I was a teenager but also because the community itself had transformed. There was a significant Iranian presence everywhere, and the focus had shifted heavily towards rules, especially those related to sex, drinking, and drug use. There was also a huge emphasis on financial contributions to the faith, and it was the first time I began to see a somewhat materialistic outlook within the community.
As a preteen and teenager, I engaged in activities like dropping off flyers in mailboxes and soliciting strangers to talk about this great new religion, all in the name of “teaching”. I joined the local choir and sang, inspired by a crush I had on a girl there. This was probably the golden time of the community, with the choir doing outreach and a balance between Western and Iranian believers.
However, things began to accelerate. The Ruhi Institute and teaching became significant focal points. I was encouraged to bring a good friend of mine to a Baha'i camp, and once there, I was pressured to ask him to convert. It was very uncomfortable.
This Reddit loves cringe stories, so here is a winner: I had a birthday party with my non-Baha'i friends, and two older Baha'i girls attended. One of the girls ended up stalking my friend, showing up at his workplace and calling him at home with sexually suggestive comments. The matter was escalated to the Local Spiritual Assembly, but instead of talking to me about it, they basically ended my friendship with this kid. To me, this somehow captures so much of what it was like to be a Baha'i child and how Baha'i adults treat children to this day.
When I turned 15, I signed up for Baha'i membership because it was the expected thing to do. However, by the time I was in my early 20s and studying at university, I had started to interact more with the local, real-world community. This might seem like a small thing, but it was actually quite significant. You see, my parents had always felt a little bit on the outside compared to the average person on the street around them. This sense of elitism was really exacerbated by being a Baha'i because Baha'is would walk around in a cloud of self-assurance, slapping each other on the back and saying , "We don't do drugs. We've got all the answers and solutions, not like you." That was pretty much the attitude. It felt very socio-economic, with a lot of judgment towards working-class people. When the Iranians arrived, the cultural judgments grew even stronger.
But I was working in restaurants and learning about booze from bartenders. I had gotten to know real people. I had lost my virginity, and all that Bahai jazz seemed so much less relevant. I hardly even noticed when the year 2000 arrived without the predicted apocalypse, entry by troops, or any of the other anticipated events. Life went on. I lived in another country and met a girl, and we lived together.
Here is cringe story #2: my girlfriend /fiancé and I hosted a Bahai couple from my hometown. Despite being in my late 20s and engaged, and even though I hosted this gentleman in my house and helped him with his preparations for his business and presentations in the country where I lived, he reported to the Local Spiritual Assembly that I was living with a woman and we weren't married. It was absolutely amazing. The level of judgment still grosses me out.
I started to reflect on what the religion had meant to me and saw how it had changed. The obsession with fundraising was becoming ever more strident and panicked. The gaps in the actual scriptural logic of the religion were becoming more exacerbated as real-world problems still ran rife, and real-time discussions on social media brought these issues to light. It took me a while to start really digging into it, and it was only much later, when I started therapy, that I realized I needed to formally resign from the religion.
Looking back, it's astonishing how this religion, which professes to have such blind equality between the genders, as if other religions have some kind of hardwired sexism, actually had hardwired sexism in how the Universal House of Justice operates. A religion that taught the oneness of humanity, as if all humanity is equal and other religions don't recruit from anyone they can find, places divisors. Although of course, Bahai’s can’t recruit from Israeli Jews, so much for oneness of humanity. But this religion has taught that all humanity is equal, unless, of course, you're gay. Then you can't get married, let alone have sex.
There are other principles I haven't touched on, such as non-involvement in politics, unless it involves things happening to Baha'is or politics in Iran. The principle of independent investigation of the truth doesn't seem to work if you might investigate something that's not in line with the Baha'i perspective. The idea of a universal language? I don't really see any evidence that they're even really thinking about that one. The unity between science and religion? A religion that only allows men to sit on its senior board of a global theocracy probably isn't going to jive with a contemporary scientific perspective…. I mean, apparently you don't need a penis to be a man anymore, right?
In between these moments are my colorful memories of random things, like endless discussions about the boundaries of physical intimacy, people getting married at the age of 16 because they had exemptions for being Persian, and meeting Ms. Khanoom in Israel, feeling some sadness that the lone woman who at least brought some feminine energy to the World Centre is now gone, replaced by 12 boring men.
I've had conversations with my wife where I tried to explain what Baha'is actually do. She just wonders why they aren't doing stuff like normal religions do, like reading to the elderly or supporting schools for the disabled. I explain that's not the target demographic. I remember a wealthy man brought to firesides who obviously nobody else wanted to listen to, but we all sat around and applauded him like he was a great ukulele player and a clever man. He pointed out a hilariously Iranian man who was an alternative healer, and they got into a debate about modern medicine. The wealthy man said, "Well, you should see my daughter and what she studied. She studies Law." And then quickly changed the subject when asked about her name since I studied at the same Law school. Here's this man who's self-aware enough to join the adoration of his crowd but doesn't want his daughter mixed up in it in any way. Absolutely hilarious. Make that cringe story #3.
This reflection was sort of sparked when my wife and I discovered that the writings attributed to Rumi, which Baha'is often quote, is the same guy who started the Whirling Dervishes. We read about Rumi and I realized just how different he is from Baha'u'llah. Rumi wrote poetry, but he didn't pretend to be a prophet of God. He was just offering a different dynamic for how to interpret spirituality. He didn't say he was part of some sort of cycle. There's something beautiful about that simplicity. And needless to say, Rumi lived long before the Baha'is ever started.
It makes me wonder, will anyone ever watch the equivalent of a whirling dervish dance for the Baha'is?
The obsession with appearances sounds like a joke, but it isn't. It wasn't for me. Some bad stuff happened to me on my trip to Israel. When we got there, my parents didn't understand why I was so upset about everything. It was a culture shock, attending a local school, not speaking Hebrew, being lumped together with Russian kids who also didn't speak Hebrew, and getting beaten up in the toilet. It wasn't a very good time for me.
So, I was sent to counsel with a local Israeli counselor. After several sessions, she instructed that I had to sit down with my parents and tell them what I needed to tell them, particularly about the shadow that had come over me since coming to Israel. My parents were enraged when I said, “I wish we never became Bahai”.
And so, we returned from the Holy Land and moved to a tiny community that was struggling to get members. To this day, my parents are still members. I've resigned so I'm never dubbed a "covenant breaker." I'm pretty sure my parents know that I resigned because they literally never raise the topic of the Baha'i faith with me. I wish the religion had some interesting cosmology, something mystical, some interesting new take on the universe, or provided my family with tools to handle being migrants or raising teenagers. At the very least, it could have given us a common language we could have used to bond together. It did none of that.
But to be fair, if it wasn't the Baha'is, some other rinky-dink cult would have love-bombed my parents back in the 1980s. Of course, it would have been so much more fun if it had featured more sex and drugs 😊

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

When I was a kid, my dad brought this horror movie home and I could never find its name, maybe you guys can help.
It 100% started with 3 guys (maybe 1 of them is a woman?) traveling and researching sites in the desert.
They find this tomb, they go in it and they find some kind of statue or lamp (I don't really remember) but they did some digging and from this source, a djinn/demon pops out and kills them in a very gruesome way.
Then they fast forward 10 or 20 years and the movie starts.
Any idea whats its name? (And its not "Djinn" or "The Djinn" I checked, it specifically starts in the desert with these 3 guys)

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

The legend of la Lechuza is one that can be heard all over Mexico. It is said that a lechuza, or owl, specifically a white owl, is a bruja or witch that has taken the form of this owl. There are small owls that are believed to be witches, but the legend of La Lechuza is one giant owl. Some say it is a white owl, but there are stories and reports that it is black owl. It is 7 feet tall and has a wingspan of 15 feet. Although it is an owl, it is said to have the face of an old woman. This specific lechuza has been reported only in Chihuahua, Coahuila, Durango, Nuevo Leon and Tamaulipas and in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas and California, especially southern CA. According to most variations of the legend, the Lechuza was once a woman who was wronged and now seeks revenge. Sometimes villagers killed her child, other times the child was killed by a drunk (and she is known to attack drunkards). Some other versions of the legend tell that the witch herself was killed by locals and came back to seek revenge. Depending on where you hear the tale, the lechuza is sometimes just one bruja, but in other places, any bruja can become this giant owl, it is a witch that has sold her soul to the devil and they transform at night. Legend says that the cry of a Lechuza mimics the cry of a baby or whistles and they use it to lure you outside, to take you and make you their meal. Sometimes the cry of the Lechuza is said to be an omen of death, if you hear it, a family member will die. Some say dreaming of the Lechuza is also an omen of death. The Lechuza is so big that it can carry a grown adult in its talons. The Lechuza is said to bring storms with it and cannot be harmed by guns. It is also said to prey on human emotions, often appearing during domestic disputes and waiting for her next victim to storm outside. Some versions of the legend, the Lechuza only preys on adult men, drunks specifically, but in others the lechuza craves the blood of newborn babies and especially unbaptized babies. It is common to be told, “do not whistle three times at midnight” for it is an invitation for the Lechuza. It is said the Lechuza has swooped down on cars and can travel at the same speed. According to legend, salt can protect against it, and many put salt on their windows at night for protection. If you see it, you should also cuss her out to drive it away, but other versions of the legend say this may make it more mad, so be wary of this one. Tying a rope of 7 knots and hanging it on your door will also protect you, since it is a sign of acknowledgement and respect toward the lechuza. Some say praying can also save you, specifically the Magnifica (Magnificat), a prayer from the gospel of Saint Luke, but it must be recited in Spanish and then also backwards. There are many stories of sightings of the Lechuza, the following is Nuevo Laredo, in the 1950s: There was a lechuza terrorizing the town, and the locals came up with a plan to kill it. It was lured out of the trees by using a child as bait. When the Lechuza attempted to take the kid, locals fired at it with guns, but only hit its claws before it flew away. The next day, they went to the house of the bruja they believed to be the Lechuza and she answered the door with a bandaged leg. This is a story found on reddit, from the 90s or early 2000s: A 9 year old living south of San Antonio, TX, in between two little towns called Von Ormy and Lytle was at home alone watching Spongebob. The sun had just set and it was a full moon. (we’ll use a fake name), Child heard noises outside and thought it was their dad coming home from work and naturally went outside excited to greet their dad. However, their dad was not out there, instead it was a massive owl. It was sitting on a picnic table across the street and looking right at them. The massive bird was jet black. It stared for another 15 minutes but then left when the father arrived home. The kid told their grandma about this and she began praying and doing a limpieza (a cleaning) with an egg, and told the kid the story of the lechuza. The kid did not feel fear however, and wondered if the bird was there to warn them about something. Not too much later, there was a giant storm that damaged a lot, except the house and the picnic table where the lechuza was sitting.

Bit of a longer into, skip down 2 paragraphs if you want to jump straight to the story
First of all, thanks for all of the (mostly) positive feedback on my first story, you guys are the best!
A little more description on me, for my reviewers who requested to know more. I'm Avery, 5'4, have slightly bushy brown hair down to the middle of my back. I'm on the olive completion side (my mom is Greek). As I said before, ittybittytittiecommittee, B cup breasts and a firm butt that I tone with a lot of cycling in my spare time. And yes, i shave everywhere(;
Two days after my incredible first experience with my Platoon Leader, my 6'1, muscular hunk that we'll call Matt, things had been awkward. I couldn't help but hope that things would progress further, but at the same time, I was aware of the complications of continuing any relationship with him. At work, we continued as normal, he's my boss' boss, and I go back to my daily job as a truck driver (88M life). In the evenings, it's been another story. He's been texting me and I've been longing for more but super hesitant to go for anything, but my god, I want more of him.
After 2 days, its Friday night and he asks me over for dinner again. "Just dinner", and nothing else so we can hang out and figure things out. I get dressed, wearing a cute little floral romper that is practical yet fashionable, and hoping to avoid a repeat of having to borrow clothes again, I pack an overnight bag, just in case.
Matt welcomes me to his house, meeting me on the front porch just like last time, ever the gentleman. Butterflies right from the get go. Thanks Matt.
When I walk inside, I see that he's prepared a chicken alfredo with broccoli. Can't say I'm not impressed, this man must have really been listening when I told him about my favorite comfort foods while we were in the field!
Over dinner, we make it through small talk and he finally asks the elephant in the room, "what are we doing?" I stutter out some mumbled stuff about me messing with his career as I'm in my last few months, getting ready to get out, and how this probably isn't a good idea and then I flip the question on him, trying to stop myself from rambling my way into killing any chance I have with him. His response melts my heart, "I'm trying to convince a beautiful woman to take a chance on me these next few months until I can come out and tell the world, that's my girlfriend"
Did he just ask me to be his girlfriend??? Was not prepared for that one. My mind is spinning with every conceivable way this won't work and yet there he is, with a reassuring look in his smile that he's going to find a way. He leans across the table, takes my and and kisses it, before asking me to be his girlfriend.
I quickly sputter out something along the lines of a yes before he leans across the table, kisses my lips as he holds my cheek in his hand and I confirm my yes with a firm reply from my lips to his. We part after a few moments and he just sits there smiling at me like a goofball and i fall for him. G.I. Joe has a softer side. Its perfect.
After we finish eating he asks if he can give me a present as he is now my boyfriend. I oblige him of course and he leads me upstairs to his bedroom, where I find the room well lit with candles and smelling of violet. On the bed is a note that says "one free massage"
I see that he's definitely put a lot of planning into this whole asking me out thing, and I'm once again blown away by the man. I ask him what I should wear for my massage, and he replies with "panties only"
I smile slyly at him as I unbutton my romper and let it slide off my shoulders, across my braless chest, and down to the floor, leaving me in just a pale purple thong. I proudly record the look on his face as I can tell that he likes what he sees. I lay face down on the bed and I feel cool lotion being planted down my spine, causing a rush of sensation as he straddles me to rub my back.
He massages my shoulders, paying close attention to the knots he finds along the way, before working his way lower, to the tight muscles right at the base of my spine. His hands feel incredible as they firmly trace their way across my bare skin and I can feel from his "growth" as he straddles me, that I'm not the only one at least slightly turned on by his touch.
He works his way lower, massaging my firm butt cheeks and the backs of my thighs before I feel a finger brush between my legs, over the thin strip of now damp fabric that has buried itself between my cheeks. He knows what he's doing, he can feel my arousal, and it's not long before he's massaging my butt while slipping a finger under my thong to tease at my vagina.
After another minute or two, he rolls me over and kisses his way down my body to my thong, taking it in his teeth and pulling it down my legs before tossing it to the nightstand. He spreads my legs slightly and brings his head between them, lightly kissing the crease where my legs and pelvis meet, right along my bikini line. So close to where I want him and yet so far.
I take my hands and run them through his hair, guiding his head to taste me. He runs the tip of his tongue between the lips of my vagina and settles on my clit, making small quick circles on my swollen nub as i gasp and moan. He continues as i hold his head there, my hands gripping his hair and begging him not to stop. He inserts one and then a second finger inside me which only adds to the pleasure building from his tongue on my clit.
After a few minutes i can't take anymore, my center entering sensory overload, begging for a orgasm to break, but not quite going over the edge. I pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply, grasping his butt and pulling him inside me as his weight presses down on me. I taste myself on his lips and it is purely erotic.
He thrusts deep inside me as I wrap my legs around him, not letting go. He picks up speed and I beg him not to stop as my orgasm finally breaks and my inner walls grip tight against his shaft.
I feel him swelling even larger and I know he's nearing his own orgasm quickly after so much time devoted to foreplay. I ask him where he wants to cum, knowing that anywhere is acceptable to me. He says he doesn't want to break apart so I grasp his hips, urging him deeper as he finds his release deep inside me.
I am utterly spent and overwhelmed by my Matthew and his performance. He rolls off of me and lays next to me on his side, his head cradled against my shoulder. I feel him leaking out of me as he softly kisses my lips again and again until sleep overcomes us.
In the morning, I finally go back out to the car to grab my overnight bag, and get ready to go on an actual date that he has planned for us. The thong from the night before stay on his nightstand, something to keep as a souvenir (;
More details about our date and more in the next story. Thank you for all the feedback! For those of you wondering, I'm about to start my ETS leave, Matt and I are still dating, and these are true stories about how we've both broadened our horizons as a couple, both sexually, and in terms of growth as a couple. Feel free to message with more feedback, or drop something in the comments! ♡Avery

Bit of a longer into, skip down 2 paragraphs if you want to jump straight to the story
First of all, thanks for all of the (mostly) positive feedback on my first story, you guys are the best!
A little more description on me, for my reviewers who requested to know more. I'm Avery, 5'4, have slightly bushy brown hair down to the middle of my back. I'm on the olive completion side (my mom is Greek). As I said before, ittybittytittiecommittee, B cup breasts and a firm butt that I tone with a lot of cycling in my spare time. And yes, i shave everywhere(;
Two days after my incredible first experience with my Platoon Leader, my 6'1, muscular hunk that we'll call Matt, things had been awkward. I couldn't help but hope that things would progress further, but at the same time, I was aware of the complications of continuing any relationship with him. At work, we continued as normal, he's my boss' boss, and I go back to my daily job as a truck driver (88M life). In the evenings, it's been another story. He's been texting me and I've been longing for more but super hesitant to go for anything, but my god, I want more of him.
After 2 days, its Friday night and he asks me over for dinner again. "Just dinner", and nothing else so we can hang out and figure things out. I get dressed, wearing a cute little floral romper that is practical yet fashionable, and hoping to avoid a repeat of having to borrow clothes again, I pack an overnight bag, just in case.
Matt welcomes me to his house, meeting me on the front porch just like last time, ever the gentleman. Butterflies right from the get go. Thanks Matt.
When I walk inside, I see that he's prepared a chicken alfredo with broccoli. Can't say I'm not impressed, this man must have really been listening when I told him about my favorite comfort foods while we were in the field!
Over dinner, we make it through small talk and he finally asks the elephant in the room, "what are we doing?" I stutter out some mumbled stuff about me messing with his career as I'm in my last few months, getting ready to get out, and how this probably isn't a good idea and then I flip the question on him, trying to stop myself from rambling my way into killing any chance I have with him. His response melts my heart, "I'm trying to convince a beautiful woman to take a chance on me these next few months until I can come out and tell the world, that's my girlfriend"
Did he just ask me to be his girlfriend??? Was not prepared for that one. My mind is spinning with every conceivable way this won't work and yet there he is, with a reassuring look in his smile that he's going to find a way. He leans across the table, takes my and and kisses it, before asking me to be his girlfriend.
I quickly sputter out something along the lines of a yes before he leans across the table, kisses my lips as he holds my cheek in his hand and I confirm my yes with a firm reply from my lips to his. We part after a few moments and he just sits there smiling at me like a goofball and i fall for him. G.I. Joe has a softer side. Its perfect.
After we finish eating he asks if he can give me a present as he is now my boyfriend. I oblige him of course and he leads me upstairs to his bedroom, where I find the room well lit with candles and smelling of violet. On the bed is a note that says "one free massage"
I see that he's definitely put a lot of planning into this whole asking me out thing, and I'm once again blown away by the man. I ask him what I should wear for my massage, and he replies with "panties only"
I smile slyly at him as I unbutton my romper and let it slide off my shoulders, across my braless chest, and down to the floor, leaving me in just a pale purple thong. I proudly record the look on his face as I can tell that he likes what he sees. I lay face down on the bed and I feel cool lotion being planted down my spine, causing a rush of sensation as he straddles me to rub my back.
He massages my shoulders, paying close attention to the knots he finds along the way, before working his way lower, to the tight muscles right at the base of my spine. His hands feel incredible as they firmly trace their way across my bare skin and I can feel from his "growth" as he straddles me, that I'm not the only one at least slightly turned on by his touch.
He works his way lower, massaging my firm butt cheeks and the backs of my thighs before I feel a finger brush between my legs, over the thin strip of now damp fabric that has buried itself between my cheeks. He knows what he's doing, he can feel my arousal, and it's not long before he's massaging my butt while slipping a finger under my thong to tease at my vagina.
After another minute or two, he rolls me over and kisses his way down my body to my thong, taking it in his teeth and pulling it down my legs before tossing it to the nightstand. He spreads my legs slightly and brings his head between them, lightly kissing the crease where my legs and pelvis meet, right along my bikini line. So close to where I want him and yet so far.
I take my hands and run them through his hair, guiding his head to taste me. He runs the tip of his tongue between the lips of my vagina and settles on my clit, making small quick circles on my swollen nub as i gasp and moan. He continues as i hold his head there, my hands gripping his hair and begging him not to stop. He inserts one and then a second finger inside me which only adds to the pleasure building from his tongue on my clit.
After a few minutes i can't take anymore, my center entering sensory overload, begging for a orgasm to break, but not quite going over the edge. I pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply, grasping his butt and pulling him inside me as his weight presses down on me. I taste myself on his lips and it is purely erotic.
He thrusts deep inside me as I wrap my legs around him, not letting go. He picks up speed and I beg him not to stop as my orgasm finally breaks and my inner walls grip tight against his shaft.
I feel him swelling even larger and I know he's nearing his own orgasm quickly after so much time devoted to foreplay. I ask him where he wants to cum, knowing that anywhere is acceptable to me. He says he doesn't want to break apart so I grasp his hips, urging him deeper as he finds his release deep inside me.
I am utterly spent and overwhelmed by my Matthew and his performance. He rolls off of me and lays next to me on his side, his head cradled against my shoulder. I feel him leaking out of me as he softly kisses my lips again and again until sleep overcomes us.
In the morning, I finally go back out to the car to grab my overnight bag, and get ready to go on an actual date that he has planned for us. The thong from the night before stays on his nightstand, something to keep as a souvenir (;
More details about our date and more in the next story. Thank you for all the feedback! For those of you wondering, I'm about to start my ETS leave, Matt and I are still dating, and these are true stories about how we've both broadened our horizons as a couple, both sexually, and in terms of growth as a couple. Feel free to message with more feedback, or drop something in the comments! ♡Avery

I'm a 38 yo woman in Southeast Asia who mostly listens to indie folk artists on Bandcamp and musical cast albums. My playlists are focused on songs that have poetic and clever lyrics, as well as vocal performances that deliver emotion and storytelling, not just perfect technique. These things are in rap and I never realized! The diss tracks where Kendrick moves from being so fucking funny to being introspective to seething with rage got that serotonin flowing and I was like, oh? Oh?! Okay, I'm gonna let this man take over my life for the foreseeable future.
The main thing tripping me up is that there's SO MUCH LORE in a rap song—not just hip-hop references, but also wider cultural contextual information that I don't always have. But I'm pretty used to finding value and enjoyment in media that isn't necessarily made for me, where I'm not the target audience. (What better way to see the world from different perspectives?) I'm deciphering Kendrick Lamar verses like I read the LOTR as a little kid with a dictionary open for the vocabulary, or like I watched Letterkenny a couple of years ago with a glossary tab open for all the Canadianisms. Good thing there are YouTubers and genius.com annotators breaking things down line by line. He's so good, it's worth the work, I'm so happy to have something new to dig into. As of right now, I don't know yet if I'm into rap as a whole genre, but I'm definitely into Kendrick Lamar.
EDIT: You're all so lovely; thanks for all the recommendations! I put them in a playlist called Reddit Rap Recs lol. I promise I'll get to them once I can tear myself away from Mr. Kendrick Lamar, which might be a while.

Hey everyone,
A bit about me: I grew up in a toxic household with an alcoholic abusive single mother. She had anywhere from 15-20 stray cats in our home that she spoiled and loved more than me. She sure made that clear! My father left me and my mother when I was two years old and he never came back. I was put into the California foster care system at age 13 due to my mother being reported multiple times by my junior high school counselor. From there I went to several mental hospitals, lockdown facilities and group homes up to my 18th birthday. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and major depressive disorder back in my adolescent years. I haven’t been evaluated as an adult but I’m sure I would be diagnosed with MDD if I were.
I have spent almost my entire adult life doing nothing with myself. I spent a lot of time early on sleeping in my car and showering at my friends houses. My grandma in Arizona helped me out a great deal and let me stay with her and find work, and I was proud of myself although I was working a menial janitorial job at a casino. I’m pretty tech savvy and skilled with automotive repair but I never pursued further education. When my grandma passed away in 2007 I got severely depressed but I managed to get a place to live with roommates and held down a full time job, again at a casino doing janitorial work. Developed a gambling addiction and an alcohol addiction. Got a DUI in 2008 and that started my legal troubles. Lost my place and lost my job.
I slept in my car and worked at casinos doing menial work again. Met a woman at one of the jobs and got married April 2010. She had a few kids with a bunch of baby daddy drama, and I couldn’t deal with it so I just walked away and the divorce was finalized by the end of the year. I stopped drinking after that. From there I kept working until 2011, when I decided to quit my job, take my old Subaru XT and hit the road. Went all over the southwest US sleeping in the car and exploring, got a few tickets for no insurance, got my license suspended for said tickets and also for not paying my payments on the DUI. I got to Albuquerque NM and my car finally croaked on me. Transmission failure. Slept in it for a week or so in a mini-mall parking lot until the cops were called on me and unsurprisingly took my car. I was officially a street person at age 26.
I spent several years hitchhiking, panhandling, dumpster diving, hopping freight trains and finding spots to sleep or camp wherever I could. I was so depressed that I didn’t take very good care of myself and had no desire whatsoever to try to better myself and dig out of the hole I got myself into. I used to call myself an urban survivalist. I remained in this state of mind until late 2022 when dental problems nearly killed me. I finally found a place to stay in Nevada with a lady I called a foster mother but I had a very hard time getting used to being housed. I got all my teeth yanked and a set of dentures thanks to Nevada Medicaid. I got a job at a car wash for six months but gave up the job due to stress at home and workplace nepotism. I even got a few credit cards and got my score up to 719! Anyhow, foster mother was an alcoholic, she started to remind me of my biological mother and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had a few thousand dollars saved up and moved back to Arizona a couple of months ago.
I am currently at a weekly motel and have been attempting to find any work I can. Managed to get interviews for dishwasher jobs, housekeeping jobs, janitorial jobs and night crew at a grocery store. Haven’t heard back from any of them though. I have half of my savings left and it seems inevitable that I’ll run out of money pretty soon.
I have a good feeling that the ridiculously long gap of employment looks terrible on my resume and that may be a reason I’m not getting anything. I mean, what do I tell the interviewer, that I was a damn bum?
I like to think I’m pretty smart. I was disassembling and reassembling IBM PC’s before I hit puberty. I was the computer technician for my high school back in the Windows XP era. Once I started driving I began teaching myself automotive repair with Chilton and Haynes manuals along with plenty of trial and error. It blew people’s minds when I, a dirty bum, helped get their car back on the road if I noticed they needed assistance. I helped a man I met at a park and did an engine swap on his Nissan Xterra over a couple weekends in exchange for new camping gear.
I can’t get work as a mechanic or do any driving related jobs unless I get my license back and it would take a LOT of money to get it back. On top of that I have to have an ignition interlock in any vehicle I drive. I wouldn’t mind getting into computer repair but I don’t have the certification to do so, and I’ve been out of the loop for a long time. I have a MacBook Air M1 and wish I could learn a way to make money with it like some sort of remote job but that seems impossible to me at this point. I’m not selling off my electronics.
For the record, I still don’t drink and I’ve never done a hard drug in my life. I haven’t smoked weed in months so I am able to pass a drug test if I were hired somewhere. Also, I have no felonies whatsoever on my record. Some people like to be stereotypical so I figured I’d throw that out there.
I guess what I’m asking is what should I do at this point? What path would you take if you were in my shoes? I won’t lie, suicide has been on my mind a lot lately. I don’t have many friends and I don’t have any family to talk to. I don’t like being a burden on anyone. Should I just accept that I’m gonna probably be homeless again, possibly for the rest of my life? Is there anywhere in the US that I could possibly get back on my feet with some sort of labor work and a place to sleep? I’d move anywhere if I knew I had a shot. Am I a lost cause at age 38? I’d love to hear some ideas!

We launched the first manned Mars mission in 2044, seven months in transit and established an orbit with little issue.
We'd been sending machines ahead to help get things ready for us, but this is was the first time humans were going down to the red planet. If all went according to plan we'd be making our own rocket fuel to head back after a few years. The rocket that took us here has been colloquially called the BFR, you can figure out what those letters stand for on your own, I'm sure.
The BFR Mars delivery system worked great, we loaded a significantly more mass than earlier rockets would have been able and still got here in record time. It always amazes me when new systems perform better than expected, and the particle collectors that we had to continuously 'refuel' while we flew really surprised us. We expected around a 70% efficacy, hitting 95% was a nice surprise. We arrived with plenty of fuel to land our reusable rockets down on the surface, and a fair bit to spare. We'd planned the mission expecting to get 50%, knowing they normally operated more like 70% most of the time. Apparently getting far from the Earth's magnetosphere helps them work better. Eggheads back home are busy crunching over the data.
The habs go down first, and we had eight buildings, that's an extra two in case there was an issue with one on landing. We've had a 95% success rate landing buildings on Mars thus far in prep for human arrival. The habs land without issue, mostly. One of them is off target by about fifty meters, but otherwise everything is great. There's already some machines down there we can use to move it. A crane, a few fork lifts and drills and mining rigs and such. We are going to be responsible for developing on our own, more or less. Sure Earth's gonna send supplies, but the idea is that we're gonna become self sufficient here very quickly.
Descent was more terrifying than launching. The rocket is fully automated, so it isn't like the pilot can do anything to help us if it all goes wrong on the way down. Fortunately, nothing went wrong on the way down. So we landed. All intact and well, I didn't even have to use the in-suit diaper.
Spock Armstrong made the historic transmission back to Earth as he set foot on the Red planet for the first time. "One small step for man, One Gargantuan Leap for Mankind."
The PR men back on earth decided on this line years ago, before the first rocket was even in space, or the crew chosen.
Almost immediately after the broadcast went out, we received one back. It is a woman's voice, small and quiet, "Hello up there. Please don't be alarmed, and also please don't tell Earth we're here." Then there was a beep, the kind that made us all wonder if this was an automated message.
Our suspicions were confirmed when a few moments later it repeated, but in Russian this time. All of us aboard the rocket still looked back and forth at one another.
"Not a funny prank guys." Spock had turned around to look up us on the ramp, but a moment later he too realized it was no prank.
We cut the transmissions back to earth for a moment and talked locally on our radios that don't have nearly enough power to be heard back on earth.
"Okay, so what the hell was that?" Spock said first, he was the man in charge of the mission after all, and so the logical choice to speak first.
Travis Archer, the second in command had hopped into action, he pulled a scanner from the cargo. After the message had repeated again, this time in mandarin he said, "Its coming from underground. Actually, right where the off-target hab was meant to land."
Spock groaned with frustration. "Lets unload like this isn't happening for now. We're on a tight schedule these first few days, and there is a great deal to do before nightfall. As we're able lets use what breaks we have to figure this out, get the transmissions to earth started back up, and for now, lets not tell Earth just yet. Geordi O'Brien, can you rig up a journal to send back to Earth on a twenty four hour dead man's switch. We'll collate everything we learn about this... Anomaly, and only send if we have to or decide to do so. For now though, we'll maintain this secret. Someone else is here on Mars with us."
Geordi O'Brien, that's me. Named after two of the finest fictitious engineers Starfleet ever had. I set up the dead man's switch to send everything we stored in a particular folder on the rocket's computer, and we set to work on what we were here to do. Spock was right, it was a long day and we barely got finished with our work before sunset. Huh, Sunset on another world. Spock pushed us hard all day to get us to where we could enjoy the view at sunset. I was annoyed with him during the day, but now I think it was worth it in the end.
After the sunset we all headed into the habs to get out of our suits and finally take a shower in real gravity. Low, but real. We hooked tubes up between all the habs, we found an antenna stuck up from deep underground right were the one hab was supposed to land. We put our hab in a secondary position, and tubed it up too, leaving some space for us to explore and drill down where the antenna popped up.
The next few days proceeded as the international scientific community back on earth had planned. The transmissions from below kept up in thirty minute intervals. And cycled through quite a few languages. We tried calling back to them on the same frequencies, but no one responded.
Eventually we stopped being so incredibly stressed out and working 85% of our waking hours, however that only gave us more time to ruminate on the transmission from underground. On day four we started digging down following the antenna.
Our ground penetrating radar says there's a whole... complex down there. There's only twenty seven of us here on mars, and we have a good bit of space really, but the complex down there is huge. Big enough for several hundred.
We continued to dig down, on day nine Spock and I think at our current rate we'll be down to what we hope is a hatch in a few days. We've been keeping up with the mission back from Earth, and for now, they still don't know. Many discussions have been had about if and when and how we admit to Earth what we found. We decide getting a fuller picture is a better idea. No need to cause a panic on Earth before we have some answers.
Our crops in the greenhouses are doing well in the martian soil. The gene modded bee queens are growing their hives, and the first fuel producers on the surface have started to turn out some fuel for our eventual return voyage.
Day twelve and we had dug down enough with the machines to need to go in by hand with shovels and picks.
It was a hatch. Took a little doing, but we got it popped open and dropped down inside, in our suits. What we found inside was at the same time amazing and horrible. There were hundreds of dead bodies. There were adults and terribly, children as well. Human bodies.
Their life support systems seemed to have encountered some kind of catastrophic failure, and they all suffocated down here. There's no signs of struggle, so our hope is that at least it was peaceful.
Their computer systems are not quite like anything we have on our rockets, and after a fair bit of help from the Russian speaking engineer on my team, we managed to access their systems.
I'll summarize what we found.
They came from Earth, and they left in the 1990's. Only not from our Earth. They arrived in our universe in the 1950s our time after encountering some sort of spatial anomaly on their way to the red planet in their own universe. They never figured out how they jumped universes, but their mission was much more well equipped than ours for making a full on mars base.
Their history was vastly different from ours, things started diverging around the end of World War 1. They had that, just about the same as ours, but then, boy howdy does WW2 go different for them. They didn't have a Hitler, but they did have an aggrieved populace after WW1. Their WW2 was better than ours and worse than ours at the same time. While they didn't have a holocaust the same way as us, they did have quite a few casualties just as many people died, it was just a little less... motivated by intense bigotry. Their WW2 ended with nuclear weapons, in 1947. Berlin and Tokyo were nuked on the same day. After that, their world actually ended all wars. They had no real wars after that. No cold wars, no hot wars, only lawfare and scientific contests. War finally seemed to them, unimaginably horrible. Their United Nations was incredibly powerful, like the federal government of the United states in relation to it's states, only over the whole world.
Their captain, a Russian named Yuri, decided that the appropriate thing to do was to still land on mars and to try to continue the project, and just... not contact Earth. Their tech is more advanced than ours in some ways, and miles behind in others. For example our radiation shielding tech is much better, which explains why they dug underground, while we plan to live on the surface.
Their base down here is wealth of scientific knowledge, and alternate history. It is a great tragedy that they hadn't survived another seven years. Their catastrophic environmental control system failure only happened seven years ago. They had grown not just crops, but families, and children. We learned that their culture, as new as it was, had taken to using aquamations to recycle the dead into plants, and my god, their plants in their automated greenhouses are robust. We buried them in the way that their logs indicated they would wish to be buried. And after all that was done and finished. Spock said I could send off this... personal log I'd initially been preparing for my memoir. And all the data.
May whatever god brought them here to our universe rest their eternal souls.
We thank them for their great sacrifices, may we never forget the true Original Martians.

Münecat’s, I Debunked Evolutionary Psychology; dig the musical score to this one btw.
Münecat’s video going over how the use and abuse of data and science to mislead people, is the same sort of problem that is being pointed out regarding sexual violence and domestic violence as it pertains to misandry and irrational fears.
I’d say her video is worth a watch for folks in this crowd as it has a lot of info in general as to how these sorts of things are used and abused. tho it is three hours long, so i'm going to provide something a bit shorter here.
I want to note that münecat points a lot towards problems with small sample sizes, which is a real problem, and oft imo glosses over too quickly the problems that stem from definitional biases, e.g. tailoring questions to suit one’s needs and purposes. She does mention them, I just want to really highlight that aspect because it is, I think, far more the problem with stats on sexual violence and domestic violence. Those areas are deeply gender coded in a misandristic way that reflects irrational fears bout men. Tho it is tru that if anyone bothers to really dig into the stats on those topics, you’re also going to find a shit ton of studies that suffer from the small sample size problem, the self-referential to one’s own work problem, the no replicability problem, and the we only speak to rich liberal university students problem.
Of those, I’d say that the ‘self-referential to one’s own work’ and the ‘we only speak to rich liberal university students’ are likely particularly damaging problems for studies and surveys on sexual violence and domestic violence, as the universities are the primary source for the ‘yes means yes’ puritanical consent cultists’ views that are undermining what the definitions of sexual violence and domestic violence even mean.
It’s pretty much exactly like asking a group of puritan cult members how many punny sexual offenses were committed, and they feed back to you ‘all 451 percent, just like our cult master informed us’.
I’m going to briefly go over two sections of münecat’s video that directly touch on the issues of misandry and irrational fears bout men in our understanding and stats of sexual violence and domestic violence.

Gender Similarities

In the section ‘gender similarities’, münecat notes that these kinds of scientific studies surrounding gender also tend to hurt men. Saying something like [due to overestimating the dangers that men pose; irrational fears of men] ‘for every woman fearful of being raped by a man, there is a man in a dark alleyway desperately trying to convince her that he’s not actually interested in raping her.’
Which is tru. Both the people there are being harmed by the rhetoric, but be clear that the rhetoric is deeply misandristic in form.
The section has a bit more to say on the topic, I'd suggest watching that section if the whole video is too long.
Note that judith butler says something similar, saying ‘we ought not be treating our sons, fathers, and brothers as if they were all potential rapists’. She doesn't say this, but she also should have added 'because doing so is deeply misandristic and irrational.'
Idk that either butler or münecat would necessarily be on board with the concerns bout the 451 percenters in the NISVS and the Istanbul Convention On Gendered Violence, but they are definitely echoing it witfully or not. If you take münecat’s concerns seriously, and you should, you also ought be taking the concerns bout the 451 percenters seriously, which you should be.
Note, not all feminists agree with the misandristic and puritanical bs that is permeating the topics of sexual violence and domestic violence. Targeting the NISVS and the Istanbul Convention On Gendered Violence are both excellent strategies to correct for those problems.

Why The Selfish Gene Is Wrong

In the ‘why the selfish gene is wrong’ section [which it is, it obviously is actually], münecat spends some time pointing out how folks erroneously graph on to skin color suppositions of traits, because skin color is an obvious characteristic which we can, erroneously, use to explain some less obvious trait. That’s called racism.
Sexism does a very similar thing, and gendered traits, or sexed traits (not parsing those out super much here atm) are relatively obvious. So the sexist, much like the racist, takes less obvious traits and erroneously graphs them on to the more obvious traits of sex. Münecat’s point is not my own here, but she is explaining the same kinds of things as are applicable to sexual violence and domestic violence in particular. Other things too, but here I am focusing on those aspects.
We take traits of masculinity, say physical strength, and erroneously graph on to them somewhat less obvious traits, like aggression. Women are, arguably at any rate, just as aggressive as men, but how that is expressed differs and because ‘men strong women weak’, we associate violence with men, so men must be aggressive.
It’s only logical!
This has a far greater impact on points regarding sexual violence, simply it that the association of masculinity with sexual violence is so prevalent, even tho there is no reason to suppose and very little evidence to suppose that men actually commit more sexual violence than women. We simply punish men and don’t punish women. We simply count men’s sexual violence and don’t count women’s sexual violence. In the currents, to be super clear on this point, any and all data on the matter is so biased that it isn’t really evidence of much of anything.
We, in other words, code the terms of sexual violence to masculinity. Taking a less obvious trait, sexual violence, and erroneously graphing it on to a more obvious trait, masculinity.
It’s entirely bs tho. As has been pointed out here, and here, and here, and here, and here, among the many places that these things have been pointed out, women do the exact same behaviors or at times some feminine version of the exact same behavior that would be considered a sexual violence if a man did it, and it simply is not so considered if a woman did it. If we look at a stat that shows more men than women are arrested for sexual crimes, bout the only thing this can’t be interpreted as is that men actually definitely commit more sexual crimes. Cause we literally only counted men.
The laws are not written to include feminine sexual crimes, they haven’t been so written for as far as I know throughout history for the most part at any rate, when they are written in gender neutral ways they are still de facto enforced to only target men, when data is gathered on them the questions used are gender geared to count masculine coded sexual violence, when ethics surrounding sexual violence are considered that too is coded to be bout masculine coded sexual violence, when people speak up bout sexual violence womens voices are allowed and amplified while mens voices are disallowed and hushed due to the circle rubbed out belief that they are a threat, and so on.
And crime data is likely the least misandrist set of data available of the subject, as at least with that data there is a judicial system in place that tries to suss out the false claims. Which ought be terrifying for anyone familiar with the stats there.
All the surveys and circle rubbed out beliefs merely work to reinforce each other, none of which even touches on the puritanical and fascistic bs that also permeate the stats on sexual violence in particular.
For that, see:
The Bear or the Man, Being In The Woods With A Pig And A Woman
The basic take down of these kinds of interlocking puritanical and fascistic beliefs and their reflections within the stats on sexual violence. Including the fairly standard feminist, gender, and racial theorists’ criticisms of said puritanical and fascistic beliefs. Tho here we are focusing on the misandry, puritanism, irrational fears, and racism
Historically it is integral to fascistic narratives to dehumanize a people by targeting the male populations with rhetoric surrounding supposed sexual violence.
The Puritanism of The CDC And Other Fascistic Fallacies Of The 451 Percenters
A more specific set of criticisms of NISVS and by extension the Istanbul Convention On Gendered Sexual Violence. Highlights the use of aesthetics in the stats to make ethically obligatory kinds of claims, which again, is fascism.
We cannot be so unwise as to correctly note that historically fascism focuses on a specific sexual and familial forms and elevates them to ethically obligatory stature, and yet fail to recognize that it isn't bout any specific sexual or familial form. It is bout the raising of an aesthetical ethical concern (sexual and familial form, preferences), to that of an ethically obligatory concern.
That is just called fascism.

September 25th, 2023 Phoenix, Arizona
It's been fifteen years since I made it away from the creature in Manistee National Forest. My therapist said that I need to write about it, but every time I do, I don't know how to start. She told me to go through some old things from that time in my life and see if it starts any gears moving in my mind. I found a journal I kept that I'd completely forgotten about. I flipped to that day of the camping trip 15 years ago and wrote an entry for all the days we were out there.
I'd just graduated with a bachelor's in Journalism and mass communications. It'd been years since I'd seen my best friends and we decided to go camping. I'd write in my journal every day. I would write at the end of my day or a few days later if I didn't have time the night before.
My hand is shaking just writing this part, and I haven't gotten to the actual meat of the story. Ugh, Meat. That word makes me shutter.
I'll type the journal entries here:
September 25th, 2008, Manistee National Forest, Michigan
It's a beautiful day here in Manistee National Forest. The sun is shining through the leaves of the trees, and a light breeze is rustling the leaves. The scent of pine needles is strong in the air, and the sound of a nearby creek adds to the moment's serenity.
We've set up camp, and our tents are scattered about, creating a small community amid this natural wonderland. My friends, Remy and Will, are already starting a fire, laughing and joking as they work together to build a blaze. I feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me as I watch them, remembering the countless times we've been on adventures like this one.
I look around, taking in the beauty of our surroundings. The trees are tall and robust, their branches reaching up towards the sky like reaching arms. The underbrush is a patchwork of ferns and wildflowers, swaying gently in the breeze. There's a small creek not far from our campsite, its water clear and calm, perfect for swimming or washing up.
I make my way over to the fire, joining Remy and Will. "Hey, guys," I say, my voice filled with excitement. "This place is unbelievable."
Remy looks at me, his signature grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, man. I can't believe you talked us into this. You know how Will here hates camping." We both laugh while Will just rolls his eyes.
"Well, I figured it'd be a great way to reconnect," I say, glancing at Will. "You know, since graduation and all." An awkward silence hangs between us for a moment, and I can feel the tension that's always there whenever we're together. There's this invisible barrier we can never entirely break through since I left for college.
Remy leans in close, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, Landon, have you heard from anyone else? You know, old friends and whatnot?" He glances knowingly at Will, who shifts uncomfortably beside the fire.
I feel my cheeks flush red as I look at Remy. "Well, uh, not really. You know how it is. We all sort of went our separate ways after high school." I change the subject to focus on something other than the tension between us. "So, have you guys been out here before?"
"Nah, this is Will's first time," Remy says, nudging him playfully. "But I've been wanting to bring him out here for ages. I've heard these woods are teeming with wildlife. You know, bears and shit like that." He laughs, but there's a slight edge to his voice.
Will looks unconvinced. "Yeah, right. Bears in these woods? You just want to scare me."
"No, seriously," Remy insists, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "There are black bears out here. We could even go on a hike and find some. You know, get up close and personal with nature."
I glance at Will and then look back at Remy. We should stick to the campsite for now. You know, just enjoy the weekend and relax." Will says.
"Ah, come on," Remy whines. "This is the perfect opportunity. You might never get another chance to see a bear in the wild." He looks challengingly at Will as if daring him to refuse.
I decide to change the subject again, not wanting the tension between them to ruin our weekend. "Hey, guys, you want to help me gather some wood for the fire?" I ask, gesturing toward a fallen tree nearby.
Will looks relieved at the change of topic. "Sure, I can help with that." He stands up and follows me to the log while Remy remains by the fire.
We spend the next hour chopping wood and stacking it by the fire. The air is filled with the rhythmic thud of axes striking wood and the sounds of nature around us. The sunsets cast the forest in a warm, golden light. It's a beautiful sight, and for a moment, it feels like we're all part of something larger than ourselves.
Will and I continue to work in companionable silence, our minds drifting to our thoughts. It's odd how things change after high school. We used to be inseparable, but now our lives have gone in such different directions. I can't help but wonder if we'll ever find our way back to that closeness we once shared.
As the sun dips below the horizon, we join Remy by the fire. He sees the wood we've stacked with approval and pulls a few logs from the pile to keep the fire going. The flames leap to life, casting flickering shadows across our faces and dancing along the tree limbs overhead.
"So, Landon," Remy says, his voice taking on a more casual tone now that gathering wood is done. "How's life been treating you?"
"Oh, you know. Work's been good." I pause momentarily, trying to find the words to explain how different our lives have become. "It's just weird, you know...we don't see each other as much anymore. Our lives have taken us in different directions, you know?"
Remy nods, his expression somber. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's hard to keep up with old friends sometimes, especially when you're both so busy." He glances at Will, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But it's good to have you both here together, even if it is just for the weekend."
I feel a pang of guilt as I look between them. I've been neglecting them, focusing too much on my life and career. I've always considered them my best friend, but maybe that's changed over the years.
We decide to go to sleep after hours of reminiscing around the campfire. The stars twinkle above us, and the sounds of the forest lull us into a peaceful slumber. As I lay in my sleeping bag, I can't help but wonder about the weekend ahead. I feel a sense of camaraderie with Will and Remy, but there's also an underlying tension that I can't quite put my finger on.
Suddenly, I heard what I assumed was an animal moving just outside the campsite. I stood up quick and looked around but saw nothing. Will and Remy were asleep, their breathing slow and steady. The air felt tense, and the forest seemed to whisper secrets that I couldn't quite make out.
I decide to walk over to the edge of the campsite to see if I can spot anything. As I step carefully through the underbrush, I notice another noise like before, like something moving fast. I look up, trying to catch sight of it, but I can only get a blur moving out of sight. It moves so fast that it's hard to see where it went.
I return to the campsite, shaken by the experience. Will and Remy are still asleep. The air feels tense, and the forest seems to whisper secrets I can't quite make out.
I decided to get back into my sleeping bag and hoped it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But as I close them, I feel the same sense of unease creeps back in. The air feels thick like something is watching us, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I can't help but wonder if there's something or someone out there that we should be worried about.
I'm going to try to get back to sleep.
September 26th 2008
We woke up and made some eggs and bacon that we'd brought in a cooler. The air was cool and crisp, and the forest took on a different hue since last night. There was an edge to it, a tension that we couldn't quite shake. As we ate, we talked about our plans for the day.
After breakfast, we packed our camp and started hiking deeper into the woods. The trees grew thicker, and the underbrush more dense. The air felt heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. I couldn't tell if it was my paranoia about last night, but I could've sworn I kept seeing something darting just in the corner of my eye. I sighed in relief when Will mentioned it, too.
"Are you guys seeing that?" Will asks in a shaky voice.
My head quickly turns to him, and we make eye contact, a silent understanding of our fears.
"What are you talking about?" Remy snapped
"I keep seeing something dart out of my vision," I say
"That's what I'm seeing too!" Will says in an excited relief that quickly turns to fear once again.
We kept hiking silently as the woods grew denser and the air grew heavier. I could feel the tension in my shoulders, my muscles tensing up.
"I swear to god something is following us." Will whispers as he looks over his shoulders.
Remy laughs, trying to sound more confident than he feels. "Guys, come on. There's nothing out there; it's just nerves." But the way his eyes dart around, I can tell he's not entirely convinced.
We continue to hike deeper into the woods, the air growing heavier with each step. The underbrush is so dense that it's hard to see more than a few feet in front of us. I can feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead.
We find a small clearing and set up camp again. We brought some firewood with us, so Remy started a fire immediately. The sun is beginning to set and I can tell Will is still on edge about what we saw while hiking. Remy keeps himself busy with the fire, and I can tell Will's uncertainty makes him weary.
"I'm going to take a shit over here so no one disturbs me," Will says as he points toward some bushes and gets up.
"Need any help?" Remy asks playfully, but Will does not react.
Remy and I silently sit by the fire before I ask, "Will seems a little on edge. Is everything okay?"
Remy looks at me, his eyebrow arches in confusion, "Do you not know?"
I stare at him in silence, shaking my head, confused.
"Dani and Will broke up last month. He's not really doing great right now." Remy informs me
The news shocks me. Will and Dani were inseparable in high school, almost annoyingly so. We would never be able to hang out with Will by himself. Dani made his way into our friend group by force through Will.
"Oh shit. I had no clue." I say
Will walks over as he rubs hand sanitizer between his hands. "What's for dinner, boys?"
Remy pulls out the cooler and opens it. He rummages a little bit before pulling out an ice pack. He looks confused and flustered as he frantically tries to find something in the cooler.
"It's empty," Remy says as he slowly looks up at us.
"Stop fucking around-" Will begins to say before we hear the rustling on the outskirts of the clearing, we all quickly turn our heads toward the direction.
There's a sudden silence as we all realize what's happening. Something, or someone, is stalking us.
Will stands up and screams, "Who the fuck is there? Come out, you fucking coward!"
Silence fills the forest as all animals and wind stop suddenly. Will's face melts into fear. We all sit in silence as we wait for something to happen. When nothing happens after a few minutes, Will turns around slowly and makes eye contact with me. Suddenly, something large, like a black wolf but far more significant and almost human as it stood on only two legs, quickly jumps out behind Will and digs its large knife-like claws into both his collar bones. It pulls Will back into the forest, and we hear his cries fade the further he is dragged.
Remy and I stare at the empty space that once held Will in horror. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I feel like I can't breathe. Remy turns to me, his eyes wide with fear, "We have to go now. We have to leave."
I nod in agreement, unable to find my voice. We both stand up and quickly gather our things, looking around wildly as we decide which direction to go.
As we grabbed things, I heard a large thud outside the clearing where Will stood. Afraid to look, I signal for Remy as he stares at something in horror behind me. I'm still too scared to look, but I force myself. I couldn't tell what it was at first. There, tossed carelessly, lay a pile of skinned human limbs, a torso, and a head. The fleshless appendages were jumbled together in a chaotic mess, bones jutting out at odd angles and sinew glistening in the dim light. The head, stripped of its skin, bore vacant, eyeless sockets, its teeth bared in a permanent, macabre smile. The sight was horrifyingly surreal as if a butcher had gone mad in some twisted nightmare. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, a stench so overwhelming it made me gag. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the ghastly scene, every detail etching itself into my memory with sickening clarity.
Before we could say anything, a loud, lion-like roar filled the forest and echoed into my skull. I swear I felt the vibrations of the sound inside my head.
Remy grabs my arm, and we start running deeper into the woods. I can hear the beast behind us, getting closer with each passing second. My heart is racing, my lungs burning for air. I don't know what's chasing us, but I know we have to keep running.
We run for hours through dense forests and across open fields. The sun begins to set, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. I try to keep my bearings, but I'm disoriented and terrified. Remy trips over a fallen log and lands hard on the ground, wincing in pain.
"Keep going," he gasps, struggling to get back up. "We have to keep going."
I don't want to leave him to limp, but I know we can't stay here. I nod, taking a deep breath to steady my racing heart and force myself to keep running. Behind me, I can hear Remy pushing himself up, his footsteps scrambling over the leaves and dirt.
We continue through the forest, the shadows growing longer and darker around us. The trees seem to close in, forming a dense, impenetrable wall that traps us within. I try to remember the way back to the car, but I'm so disoriented now that I'm not sure I could find it even if I tried.
I stop hearing the Monster behind us, so I stop to catch my breath. Remy runs up behind me, limping. He falls onto a rock, sitting down as he struggles through wheezing breath. He pulls out his inhaler, takes three big puffs, and holds it in. He struggles until he finally releases and coughs. I look at him, and he glares back at me. He's scared.
"I don't know where we are," I whisper. "I don't know where to go."
"We have to keep moving," Remy says, still slightly wheezing from his asthma attack. He pulls himself up onto his feet and offers me a hand, but I look away, still needing to catch my breath.
"I don't know where to go," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heart.
Remy hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Listen," he says, his voice quiet but steady. "If we stay here, we're dead. We have to keep moving."
He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. I can feel the warmth of his skin, and it somehow grounds me. We walk again through the dense underbrush, our footsteps muffled by leaves and dirt. The darkness around us is almost complete now, but I can still see Remy's figure as I check on him behind me.
"Do you even know where we are going?" I ask
Remy stays silent as he continues to limp behind me. I focus on the sounds around us, hoping to find some clue as to where we are or where we should go. The forest presses in on us from all sides, blocking any possible escape. My heart is still racing, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
"Okay, we have to stop." I hear Remy say behind me. I look back and see that he's already sitting on the ground, carefully taking the shoe off the hurt foot.
He winces in pain as he struggles to get the hiking boot off. When he finally gets it off, he peels the sock off to expose his swollen ankle.
"Ah fuck!" Remy says in pain as he realizes his injury is worse than he thought.
I walk over to him as he rests his head back onto a rock in defeat, "I can't keep going."
I sit beside him, hopefully comforting him, but he looks offended.
"You can't stay with me, Landon. At least one of us has to get out of here." Remy says between breaths.
I ignore him and rest my head on the rock next to his. Before I knew it, he was snoring. I knew the pain wouldn't let him sleep for long, but he needed it. I also drifted off eventually.
September 27th, 2008
I was awoken by Remy's winces as he tried to sleep. I looked at my watch, and it was 3am. I knew we were both exhausted, but I couldn't help but feel restless. I decided to stand up and stretch, wincing as my sore muscles protested. I looked around, trying to find some sign of civilization, but the forest seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions.
I nudged him gently. "Hey, let's keep going," I said softly. He opened his eyes blearily and looked at me. He looked around for a second in confusion and then remembered the day prior as he let out a long sigh.
I put his arm around my shoulder and lifted him so we could keep walking. The pain in his foot was unbearable, but I knew we couldn't stop. After what felt like hours, we stumbled across a dirt road. It was faint in the moonlight, but we could make out the tracks from a car or truck.
I slowly let Remy down to sit as I decided to follow the road to try and find help. It was still pitch black all around me, but the moon lit the road.
After assuring Remy that I would be back, I went on my way. The dirt road wound through the dense forest, the trees pressing in on either side like they were trying to keep the light away from me. I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my mind kept drifting back to Remy, wondering if he would be okay.
I was so lost in thought for what must've been hours as the sun started rising. I didn't notice the sound of something big following me from the forest edge. My mind must've been racing so much that I didn't notice. I couldn't hear the giant footsteps when I stopped. Only when I started walking again did the Monster continue to follow from the tree line.
I turned toward it, my mind tired and exhausted as I screamed, "What the fuck do you want?! Come get me; I'm right here!" I was too tired, both physically and mentally, to fight or run anymore as I accepted the same fate as Will.
I heard it move some more, and I closed my eyes and braced myself for what was coming. I heard something quickly leave the tree line and land before my feet. I waited, but nothing happened, so I slowly opened my eyes and looked down at my feet.
I saw another human body, limbs, head, and torso torn apart. I could see Remy's shirt torn within what I can only describe as 'Meat.'
I screamed as I realized this was Remy's remains. I fell back onto my butt and frantically scooted myself backward, away from the Monster that I knew hid behind the brush in front of me.
The creature slowly stands from a squat, fully revealing itself. It must have been over seven feet tall, jet black, leather skin and fur. Its face was like a wolf, but its teeth went on forever like a great white shark. It stood there, breathing heavily, staring me down. I didn't know what to do. I sat there forever, thinking about the pain I was about to be in. I thought about Will's screams as he was yanked into the forest.
Suddenly, a loud bang from a rifle fills my ears from behind me. I close my eyes, and my ears start to ring. I've never felt more disoriented in my life. Moments seemed to slow down as I opened my eyes and saw the Monster gripping its shoulder as it roared in my direction and ran further into the forest, away from the edge.
Time is still moving slowly. I look back and see an older man with a short military-grade buzz. It was white with age, and his full but kempt beard still had sprinkles of pepper.
Suddenly, time returned to normal as I observed my surroundings. I saw the pile of meat that Remy once inhabited, and I quickly made my way to my feet, backing away from the man with the rifle.
He cocks his head, looking at me curiously as I approach him cautiously. "Are you... okay?" he asks, lowering the rifle slowly to his side.
I stare at him in disbelief, unable to make myself say anything. He looks at me with understanding eyes and then gestures for me to follow him. I do as he says, walking slowly behind him as he starts back down the dirt road.
I look behind me at Remy's pile and stop, "I can't leave him here like this." I say, "We have to at least bury him."
The man lets out a sigh of annoyance but comes around after a few seconds and helps me bury Remy off to the side of the road.
I stand in silence in front of the pile of dirt as the man waits impatiently a few feet away. I start to think of all the memories all three of us had. I wished I could return to get Will, or at least whatever remained of him, and give him a semi-proper burial like Remy.
"We'd all met in fourth grade," I say out loud to the man waiting for me.
He looks back at me in surprise.
"We had Ms. Birtch. She was so mean, we called her Ms. Bitch." I chuckle to myself.
"Look, we gotta get out of here now. I know you just lost your friend, but we can come back later to reminisce." The man says as he looks at me, annoyed.
I look up and realize he's right. I kneel and place my hand on the dirty pile before getting up and following the man further down the dirt road.
We walked for about 30 minutes, and the sun glared in our eyes as it rose. The old man's name was Steve, and he seemed to be a former soldier, but he didn't talk about it much. He had a way of making me feel safe and protected. He led me to a small cabin nestled in the trees off the dirt road. The cabin was quaint and well-maintained, with a small garden out front and a few chickens scratching around in the dirt.
"This is my home," he said as he opened the door and gestured for me to enter. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
I enter the home and immediately ask, "Do you have a phone? Mine doesn't have service out here."
He shakes his head, but I follow him as he enters the kitchen. He opens the old white fridge door and pulls out a milk carton. He places it on the dining table and fetes a glass from above the sink. He grabs another one and gestures it toward me. I look down at the milk and shake my head no. He only grabs one glass and sits at the table as he pours himself a glass of milk. He takes a long gulp and places the glass back down. He gestures for me to sit, so I do.
"I don't have a phone here," he says, "but I know where we can get to a radio to get you out of here." The man says as he takes another sip of the milk.
I look at him, confused. "What do you mean get me out of here?" I ask, still sitting down at the table.
He looks past me, so I turn around and see a picture on the wall. It's the man but much younger. He was surrounded by three children and a woman. It must be his family.
"Does your family live here too?" I ask
He stops, moves his gaze back to me, sits back in his chair, and sighs.
"They used to." He says in his grizzly voice.
I waited for him to expand, but he never did.
"Did that... monster... get them?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend the man who saved my life.
He gets up from the chair and goes to the window above the sink. He stares for a long time before speaking. "I guess technically they're still here."
I get up and stand next to him, looking into his backyard. It seems overgrown, as if it has not been tended to in years. The grass was growing between brick paths, and bushes reached across the path like thick underbrush. Everything was unkempt except for one square. In that square, there were four headstones. The man's family.
"Yes," the man says as I look at him, "that monster got them."
I helped the man do chores for the rest of the day until the sun went below the mountains.
The rest of the night was spent planning how to get to the radio tomorrow morning. He said it was in an old radio tower up in the mountains.
The man told me I'd need to rest for tomorrow, but as I slept in the cot in the living room, I couldn't stop dreaming about the Monster and what it did to Will and Remy or what it would do to me.
September 28th 2008
As expected, I didn't get much sleep, but when the man shook me awake, it was still dark out. He told me to dress warm, as the radio tower was a ways up the mountain and the air would be cold. I dressed quickly in the clothes he had laid for me, and we set off into the darkness. The stars were visible, twinkling above us as we hiked through the woods. The man led the way, moving silently through the darkness, his hand resting on a walking stick.
The man was more talkative today as if he hadn't had anyone to talk to in years. I learned his name is Gary, and he and his family lived in Boston. They decided to take a no-technology vacation out here four years ago. They rented the cabin he brought me to, which Gary now owns. He came from money, so that was never the problem.
When I asked why he lived out here, he paused briefly before saying, "I can't leave my family." That was the last thing he said before we reached the tower.
It took about an hour and a half to make it to the tower. It was overgrown, and Gary told me it had been years since he'd last climbed it. When we reached the top, the first rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon. The radio tower was ancient and rusty, and the steps leading up to it were rickety at best.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked as I carefully made my way up the steps.
The man stayed silent and kept climbing the winding stairs. Something seemed off like the man had changed.
Gary looked down at the tree line below us. I looked too and only caught a blur as the creature ran off and the bushes swayed in its place. Gary grins and looks at me, "Go down."
Surprised, I stare at him, confused. He grabs me by the shirt and pulls me closer, "Go. Down." His hot, stinky breath envelops my face. He pushes me back, forcing me to grab the railing to keep myself from falling. When he sees that he failed in pushing me, he snarls and continues climbing the stairs faster, skipping a step.
I hear the Monster's roar right below us as I see it climbing up through the metal grate. I freeze, not knowing what to do. Then I hear Gary's voice over a PA system. It rings loud into my ears before he talks, "Kid, I said get the fuck down. You don't need to be another victim of this thing!"
Still frozen, even more confused by his words, I look down again and see the Monster climbing the metal poles that held the structure up. I watched the creature scale the radio tower with an eerie, almost unnatural agility. Each movement was swift and precise, powerful claws gripping the metal rungs effortlessly. The tower seemed to shudder under its weight, a low creaking sound accompanying each ascent. I could see its eyes glowing with a feral intensity, focused on something far above. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a primal fear gripping me as I watched this Monster get closer and closer to me.
Finally, I snap out of it when Gary's voice fills the sky again, "Let's fucking go, you mangey half-breed!"
The creature seemed to move faster at his voice like it knew him personally. As it finally made it to me, it leaped toward me on the stairs, but I could move to the side and almost dodge it completely. It jumped so far that it nearly flew off the side of the tower. As it reached for the railing to save itself from falling, it snatched onto my elbow, slicing it so bad I could see the bone.
Grabbing onto my wound, trying to keep my skin from peeling completely off, I started running back down the stairs. The Monster looks down at me, and I can tell it's about to pounce on me, but Gary's voice distracts it again, "You don't want that little shit, you mutt! Come get some seasoned meat!" The Monster starts climbing toward Gary again.
Gary starts laughing. A laugh only a person who has given up on everything could. It slowly turned to sobbing as I heard his last words, "I love you, Mary, Lilly, and little Amber. Margaret, I'm sorry, but I can't live without you-" Just then, the Monster made it to the top, where Gary was in a little structure attached to the tower.
Everything was silent. I started sprinting down the stairs, almost to the bottom, when my hearing went and I only heard a ringing. Again, things moved in slow motion as I looked up and saw an enormous explosion coming from the structure Gary was in. The ground started to rumble as things went back to average speed, and I tried to make it down in time before the whole rickety structure collapsed.
It must've been adrenalin that got me out in time. The tower began to crumble and toppled in the opposite direction of me.
I stood there, waiting for the Monster to emerge, but it never did. I sat down, still holding my wound as it seeped warm blood all over me. I sat there, knowing help was not coming, accepting my imminent death for what felt like hours.
I must've passed out because the next thing I remember was having water thrown onto my face as I lay on the ground. A man and a woman were tending to my elbow wound and, in my delirium, snatched my arm away and began running from the rescue team. I ran for what felt like hours before passing out. I later learned that I ran only about 50 feet before passing out. Now I'm in the hospital tending to my elbow.
How will I ever live with this? How could I go on?
September 25th, 2023
I only remember a little after that. I remember telling authorities about the Monster and how it mauled Will and Remy. I also told them about Gary, and they were able to find all three bodies, well, what was left of them. They never saw any sign of the Monster, though.
After telling them the unbelievable story, I have to admit, I would have a hard time believing I was a suspect in all their murders. After years of trying, they could never find any evidence against me.
After many attempts to end my life, I decided I wouldn't let that Monster win; even after it was out of my life, I refused to let it be the reason I go.

"It’s important to me that the episodes are somewhat reflective of our real world. Like for my season 4 episode “All Is Possible” where Tilly and the cadets are stranded on the planet while Burnham helps Ni’Var negotiate reentering the Federation, all the negotiation stuff on that was me looking at Brexit and finding an angle on what happened to the Federation. Why was this union broken up and what animosity exists?
[...]
For “Labyrinths” one thing we talked about – and Lauren [Wilkinson, Co-writer] is a black woman – this is a show led by a black woman and we never really had many opportunities to dramatize the pressures that women of color face in positions of power in the real world.
So Lauren talked about the internal pressure that especially women of color feel when they feel that their performance in the moment can be used to deny people opportunity in the future. So, everything with Burnham was revealing that for this character who’s in massive overachiever, what drives her? And revealing that there’s like a hidden internal fear that’s never really been addressed. And obviously, it’s very abstracted from our real world."
Link (TrekMovie):
https://trekmovie.com/2024/05/19/interview-discovery-writer-eric-j-robbins-on-efrosians-and-more-star-trek-connections-in-labyrinths/
Quotes/Excerpts:
"TrekMovie had a spoilery chat with the writer about how he worked with co-writer Lauren Wilkinson to mix Burnham’s emotional mindscape journey with the sci-fi action happening around the Eternal Archive.
Would it be fair to say you are the biggest fan in the writer’s room?
I don’t know, there are lots of fans who worked on the show. And I think we all come in from different directions. Like Carlos Cisco, who you talked to about episode 5, he is a more recent convert. He was big into Dungeons & Dragons and any major intense lore-building world, so for him it was important to understand what’s going on.
But on the flip side of that, you have people like myself, or Kirsten Beyer, who is a producer on all these shows. We are people who grew up with Star Trek and loved it for a long time. What I really learned from working with a bunch of Star Trek fans is we can find an angle on anything and because this is the 916th episode of Star Trek, there are contradictions throughout the franchise, but what is really exciting about working on Star Trek is you could have two big fans arguing completely opposite points, and they both have the canon to back them up. That’s a long-winded way of saying I’m a huge fan, but it’s hard to be competitive about it.
You co-wrote this episode with Lauren Wilkinson. How does coming at things from different perspectives factor into your collaboration, like do you end up doing all the nerdier stuff?
First up, Lauren is an incredible writer. She is fiercely intelligent and has such an intense emotional insight into the characters. And she’s a big Deep Space Nine fan which we bonded over immediately. So Lauren and I really wanted to figure out: what did we want to talk about? It’s important to me that the episodes are somewhat reflective of our real world.
Like for my season 4 episode “All Is Possible” where Tilly and the cadets are stranded on the planet while Burnham helps Ni’Var negotiate reentering the Federation, all the negotiation stuff on that was me looking at Brexit and finding an angle on what happened to the Federation. Why was this union broken up and what animosity exists?
For “Labyrinths” one thing we talked about – and Lauren is a black woman – this is a show led by a black woman and we never really had many opportunities to dramatize the pressures that women of color face in positions of power in the real world. So Lauren talked about the internal pressure that especially women of color feel when they feel that their performance in the moment can be used to deny people opportunity in the future. So, everything with Burnham was revealing that for this character who’s in massive overachiever, what drives her? And revealing that there’s like a hidden internal fear that’s never really been addressed. And obviously, it’s very abstracted from our real world. So the breakdown, Lauren took a lot of the mindscape concepts and really drilled down on that and Burnham’s emotional journey, while I was primarily focused on aliens and spaceships shooting at each other, because I can I can write that stuff in my sleep. And then we would swap our scenes and we would do passes on them, and that’s kind of the process.
This is another episode for this season that seems to be reflecting back on the series, especially season 1. I know both of you joined the series later, but did you look back to season 1 to write this episode?
Definitely, Burnham’s journey from season 1 was very much on our minds. What drives her? When people are that driven, yes, there is an ambition, but sometimes there’s a hidden insecurity or a flaw, which is what we really, really wanted to dig into. Because Burnham is always portrayed as larger than life. And every Starfleet captain kind of fits into that mold. But everyone does have a little of a hidden wound.
Picard talks about the pressures of being in command and having to make decisions, and he denied himself a family. And the inverse of that is Benjamin Sisko who lost his wife and it was this big thing that shaped him. So we really wanted to dig into the things that shaped Michael and I personally felt there were unanswered and unexplored elements of Burnham’s choices from seasons 1 and 2 that I wanted to see more fleshed out.
Was there any discussion of who should be the Avatar? Perhaps bringing back some of those earlier characters, like maybe Sarek? Or was it always Book?
We definitely went through several versions of what the Avatar was going to be. The initial very early pitch, Burnham touches the thing and it puts her in some sort of liminal space and Dr. Derex would show up, and we would have some guest star. The concept was while the battle rages outside, Dr. Derex was sitting at a coffee table with Burnham and saying, “You need to understand the scale and scope of what you are dealing with.”
The problem with that is there wasn’t a lot of emotional realization, and the other issue was, how many scenes can you do have a character warning another character about technology that was going to be seen in a later episode? And then the third part was, is there something to be done with one of our actors? We had a lot of fun with Wilson Cruz being possessed by Jinaal in 503. At one point it was Tilly and we went back and forth on if it was Tilly or Book. At one point, we had a lot more characters showing up in the mindscape. The idea was the program was pulling from different parts of Burnham’s psyche. But in the end, Book was the best choice because David and Sonequa have wonderful chemistry, and their emotional arc through the season after the events of season 4 is: I love this person, but they did this thing that I’m having to reconcile and they’re having to rebuild a trust between them.
[...]
Full Interview (TrekMovie):
https://trekmovie.com/2024/05/19/interview-discovery-writer-eric-j-robbins-on-efrosians-and-more-star-trek-connections-in-labyrinths/

So first of all this isn’t a dig at Zack Snyder or the Justice League movie we got specifically, but rather the batshit decisions WB made that killed the DCEU basically in its crib.
I watched the Flash movie recently, and while it was overall alright, the first 20 minutes or so were some of the best superhero-going minutes I’ve experienced from film in years. (Very mild spoilers I guess) Seeing the film start with Barry Allen at a coffee shop, doing very “regular world” things but having the precedes of Batman, Wonder Woman etc are exist and be present on this planet just made me realise how awesome an actual well-made Justice League movie would’ve been.
I’m going to be honest. As cool as Marvel is, their heroes just aren’t as classic as DC heroes are. Sure Thor, Vision etc are cool, but people don’t amp themselves up before a big sports game or something by channeling the energy of Ant-Man, lol. On the whole, I still think the DC classics - Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman etc - appeal to people on a more innate level and will always be the archetypes of what people think of when they think of “superhero.”
So the fact that we only got a few half-baked films that kinda showed them how they would act as a team in real life, but overall coming across as just weird characters in a contrived story, actually feels like a travesty.
Seeing a universe where Superman, the Flash etc are all just part of “daily life” and telling an actual good story in that universe would’ve been something else.
And yes, I know there are countless fantastic animated movies, but as much as love cartoons a proper, prestige-level live action film is something else. There’s also the decent stand-alone DC films (The Batman, Joker etc.), but these tend to exist in their own universes and are limited to what they can explore with the single character they’re focusing on. They can’t really explore the incredible themes a proper Justice League film can, simply due to the lack of a “wider world” for these characters to live in.
So yeah. Just my thoughts. I’m really looking forward to the new Superman film, but again, it won’t be a Justice League thing. /end rant.

[First] [Previous]

I breathe.
[NOTICE: DATA RESTORATION IN PROGRESS. DEFRAGMENTATION AT 60%]
My mind, my own emotions fight with me. A belligerent beast, struggling with everything they have to be let loose, to rage, to seethe, to loathe. We mourn for the same thing: the loss of the most important person of our prior life. I cannot keep them sealed away, but I cannot allow them the free reign that they demand.
I can feel thin and soft arms embrace around myself as best as they could; The hold of one with so much compassion in her heart. She that so insignificantly small, and physically weak, yet makes up my world, and is relentlessly powerful in her convictions.
[DEFRAGMENTATION AT 76%]
The wild beast within hesitates at the sensation, unsure of its own desires.
Being released would hurt them. It would hurt HER.
[82%]
I cannot deny the beast, but I can find a way for us to coexist. These emotions are not a weakness, and never were. They are a strength. The motive. With their power, I will temper my heart and my determination, and I will make a future that I can look upon with pride, for I am the one in control.
Her warm breath can be felt upon the base of my neck…
[93%]
There was a soft vibration that coursed through from her into me, bring gentle ministrations to my ravished soul…
[97%]
I breathe.
[NOTICE: DEFRAGMENTATION COMPLETE. INTEGRITY OF ALL BLOCKS VERIFIED.]
[MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION RECOVERED. RESUMING TRANSCRIPTION.]
Memory transcription subject: Jorlka, Venlil
Date [Standardized human time]: February 12, 2137
I returned the embrace with all of the will I could muster, wrapping my own arms around Freya’s back as I came to my senses. Her snout was buried into my braided fluff and my face was leaking tears and snot onto her crown as I openly sobbed into her.
Her purr picked up in intensity, and her claws dug into the fur of my back, as she increased her efforts to comfort me. At that same time, another pair of arms joined our embrace from the right side, and I could feel a small weight press on the back of my head as little claws carefully took hold and then settled down. Rebecca and Leltin both had joined us.
Then finally, two more people came into the embrace from the left side, one of them had some larger and toned muscles, while the other had shorter arms, one of which was made of rigid metal. Francis and Tikar must have come out to the hallway when they heard me yelling.
My friends. My herd. My family.
These people have been doing everything they can to keep me stable through everything that has happened, helping me, the last living victim of one of the greatest crimes to ever happen to all of sapience.
I slowly became aware of how my body was tense with emotion as I clamed down, and focused on my breathing, slowly bringing an end to the sobs.
“… Do… Do I just forget about her? My best friend? Leave her behind?” Some tears still fell from my eyes, which Freya reached up to my face to wipe away with her soft pawpads.
“No, absolutely not.” Rebecca replied first. “You carry her with you.”
A chitter came from between my ears on my head. “We all got folks we’ve lost. ‘Orgetting them would be a disservice to them!”
“Would she have wanted you to forget her?” Came from the little grey woolball in my hold. “She didn’t forget you…”
Of course not. She remembered me until her end. I must show her that same courtesy, even now, centuries later. “I am the only living person who remembers her… And I will not allow myself to be the last.”
My mind became steeled as I gathered my thoughts. I allowed my emotions guide me, to drive me, to let me find this new purpose that had come to my mind. I will not let my losses be in vain. I will make sure all will hear my heart, and to know my story.
The groups embrace on me pulled apart as I got confused looks from my friends. “What do you mean, Jorlka?”
“I have been considering what to do with myself now in the current day Skalga. My current skillset is, regrettably, obsolete. I know nothing about modern technology, and I know current militaries wouldn’t have any use for my knowledge or abilities.” I explained with some annoyance at my unintentional ineptitude. “However, another avenue for a career was explained to me by some Venlil a bit ago, and it’s been on my mind since. Something called ‘streaming’, where I broadcast myself to a wide audience that can watch me from anywhere? I could use such a platform to educate my people of what we were, who we were.”
I breathed in again. “… And tell them all about what was done to her, how she was the first victim of what was done to us.”
“That sounds like an amazing idea, Jorlka.” Rebecca patted my shoulder. “I don’t really know much about the streaming scene, but I’m sure we can figure this out together.”
“Um…” A small shy voice got out attention from behind us. Selenti was still here, and she was fidgeting on her paws as all eyes fell onto her. She quickly grabbed Ryan’s hand for comfort to prevent herself from falling apart under the pressure. “I-It isn’t much, and nowhere enough to make up for what my people have done, but I have some experience with streaming. I had it as a hobby back when I was a teen.”
Ryan added himself to the proposition and he squeezed the Farsul’s paw, joining her. “And I was in a band back in Toronto, so I know audio. I’d happily help you figure out a setup for this. It’ll probably be the last thing I do on this planet before I start looking for a place to live back on Earth.”
“W-wait what?!” The Farsul looked up at her human with a panicked look. “You’re leaving to go back-“
Ryan interrupted her by putting his free hand on her head. “And I’m taking you with me. It’s obvious that the Venlil on this world are not going to let up on how they feel about you, I have no attachment to Skalga myself, and the citizens of Earth don’t really have any personal reasons to dislike a Farsul…”
“Y-You want me to come move to a predator pl-planet!?” The Farsul shuddered with fear as the thought of living on the human home world floated through her mind.
“It’s really not dangerous, sweetheart, and besides, do you really want to stay here where everyone treats you like garbage?”
Rebecca took a step forward to get their attention. “While I agree that she would be safer on Earth than here on Skalga, getting her there might be impossible. Due to the current political climate, Farsul are not that high on the list of aliens eligible for citizenship on Earth. She would need a good reason to be able to live there.”
Ryan scratched at the short hairs under his jaw in short contemplation before he looked back at Rebecca with a clever smile.
“What if I married her?”
The Farsul bloomed blue almost immediately after he offered that idea. “WH-WH-WHAT!?”
“Selenti, you are right now the only reason that I can bring myself to get up in the morning. That day where we first met, I had lost everything to the Earth attack: My family, my friends, my home. I was honestly contemplating suicide. Then you gave me the one thing I needed, kindness.” The human had turned towards the shaggy furred woman and got down onto one knee in front of her, lowering himself to the point that she was looking down at him. He cupped her paw in both of his hands as he continued. “Since then, I have been head over heels in love with you, and seeing you live here in misery hurts me so much, and I will do anything to get you away from it. I am in love with you, and I want to live my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“YES! YES! A hundred times yes!” The Farsul flung herself at the human as they embraced each other, her tail whipping around behind her as a clear indicator of the elation she felt at this moment. "I love you too! So much!"
Rebecca looked up at the ceiling as she thought about this proposition. “Well, the laws regarding marriage with aliens haven’t been made yet, so it may come down to the individual countries themselves. I know a number of them are falling over themselves to get some alien immigrants living on Earth that they could use as examples of humans and aliens coexisting.”
“Then I’ll apply for citizenship at one of those countries! I just want Selenti to be happy!” Ryan kept his arms around Selenti, gently running his hand on the fur along her spine as he spoke to Rebecca.
“That probably wouldn’t be necessary. You said you’re from Toronto? I think Canada is one of the countries pushing for alien citizens. How about after dinner, I get you two in contact with Mr. Forger, the lawyer currently employed at the same embassy we work at. If anyone can get the two of you on Earth, it would be him.”
“Wait, you two work for the UN?” Ryan’s eyes darted between Rebecca and Francis, a sudden nervousness appearing on his expression. “Uhhhh, listen, about the smell, it’s-“
Francis let out one of his barking laughs at this as he seemed to immediately know where Ryan’s mind went.
“Of course, the Canadian would go there. Brother, if you’re worried about us giving you crap about that particular smell coming from you, don’t worry. Weed ain’t one of the things the UN had been hiding from aliens, even when 56 was active. It’s a plant. Only reason the UN doesn’t touch it is home politics. Not every country sees it the same as alcohol, and the UN doesn’t want to deal with that.” Francis shook his head as he let out another laugh. “Fuck man, if anything, I was gonna ask you to hook me up with some. We know the refugees figured out some hidden backdoors for things, but us UN workers can’t exactly go digging for ourselves.”
The two male humans shared a laugh at this and started talking casually over this substance. This conversation faded into the background as I turned my attention to the small Venlil adhered to my body.
Freya had continued to hug into myside, not once taking her eyes off me during any of this. “Are you okay now?”
I nuzzled my snout into her crown, giving a gentle lick. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you so much for everything, Raincloud. I understand why you and Rebecca kept this from me; After how I reacted to the Venlil when I first saw them, I wouldn’t have trusted myself either.” I looked up at Rebecca who was now listening to what I was saying. “But I’m not the same Venlil that awoke that paw. You’ve all helped me grow into a stronger person. You’re my family now, and I am forever thankful for it.”
“That’s great to hear, you big lug.” Rebecca hugged me once more and gave me a kiss on my cheek to show her own affection. She broke off and rose her voice, pulling the attention of the four males who were talking about that Earth plant. “How about we get out of the hall and back into Jorlka’s place for dinner?”
Everyone quickly agreed and one by one walked into my home. Leltin climbed up onto his girlfriend with a chitter as they went in: “Rebecca, I 'ant to try this ‘weed’ stuff with Francis and Tikar.”
“Of course, you do.” Came from her mouth with exasperation, prompting more laughter from the dark-skinned human.
Me and Freya were the last ones in the hallway, still looking at each other lovingly. Those blue orbs. Endless skies that one could drown in.
“You really are the most wonderful Venlil, you carry me and my burdens, and make my life worth living.”
“I’d say you’re even more wonderful, and you carry me just as much. You’re my everything.”
We both said what was on our minds before going in with the others, our tails entwined with one another.
“I love you.”

Ok sounds stupid but I had this feeling something was there with he and this woman he was friends with on social media . To be fair, he’s not talking to her or anything like that now and this all happened years ago. My issue is when I asked how he knew her he lied. And I asked a few more times separate occasions and he lied. Says she was a “family” friend. We saw her in a store once, she saw him, he saw her and I could tell he felt weird. I pick up on vibes very easily and this was right towards the beginning of the relationship. I had to dig it out of him finally after two years he admitted they hung out and had sex multiple times. I’m furious that he lied about it. And another red flag concerning her was he would sometimes search her up after we were together. Obviously it’s because she’s sexually attractive to him or he wouldn’t bother, right men? I asked him repeatedly about this person cause I just had a feeling about it and he lied. Why? Why lie about something from so long ago unless you still want to bang the chick??? I’m so annoyed about it. I just want honestly which I ask for before I start dating. That’s the most important thing along with loyalty. He’s not cheating, that’s not my issue here. It’s him avoiding answering my questions honestly. I just want to understand. He said he didn’t want me to get mad yet he told me he had a threesome years ago and I didn’t get mad soooooo, yeah. Insight anyone? I just loathe being lied to over dumb shit. What could be the reason he lied about it from men’s perspective? I’m not buying the he didn’t want me to get mad crap. My insecurities are coming out here and I feel like he still wants her. And yes I’m in therapy working on myself constantly but to reiterate the insecurity is coming from the lying which I asked him point blank to never do to me.