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Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:

Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.

Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.

Chapter 120 The spectators continued cheering and whistling even minutes after the fight had come to an end. Zaon had caught the crowd by surprise. He was going to be the talk of Farcrest for the rest of the week. The perfect underdog, classless, orphaned, a bit awkward even, coming up victorious against the tyranny of levels. But that was only part of the picture. Zaon had demonstrated the vast difference in skills between him and a combatant nine levels ahead of him.
The victory put us seven points ahead, but what mattered the most going forward was the three points Zaon had lost. Team Nara’s Soldier might not be half as a competent fencer as Zaon but his proficiency with Quick-Step had given him three undisputed points. The Soldier knew when to use the skill to reap the most benefit, and I assumed all our opponents would be the same going forward.
The more skills our opponents had, the harder it would be for the kids.
“Contenders, please enter the arena,” the Master of Ceremonies’ voice echoed over the crowd’s roar. “Ilya the Hunter versus Arel Nara the Warrior!”
Despite Zaon’s victory, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. The Warrior class had a better skill pool than the Soldier class. Ilya grabbed my hand, cutting my musings short.
“Something wrong?”
I examined her face, but she just gave me a nonchalant wink and pulled me to my feet.
“Play along,” Ilya muttered as we walked to the weapons rack holding hands. “Act as if you are choosing a weapon for me. Give me the same sword as Zaon.”
Ilya was trying to fool her opponent even before the match started.
I played along and walked Ilya to the weapons rack like a father dragging his daughter to the dentist. She took the bit about ‘all war is based on deception’ too seriously, but I couldn’t blame her. Ilya had to gather every slight advantage she could if she wanted a chance in a world of average-height people.
Her act worked because Arel Nara seemed to smell her weakness as soon as we reached the weapons rack.
“Have you lost your bravado, little Gnome?” Arel Nara said as he casually grabbed an arming sword with a broad blade from the rack. The boy had the same vulpine expression as Lord Nara, but unlike his lord, his yellow and black fencing uniform revealed his strong arms and legs.
Ilya cowered behind me without letting my hand go. The System should’ve given her the Actress or Spy Class.
“Just what I thought,” Arel Nara laughed. He had grabbed a round shield and an arming sword. “It seems I won’t need this,” he added, leaving the shield back on the weapons rack and strolling into the arena with a carefree demeanor.
Lord Nara, who until that moment was furious due to the first combat, seemed to relax after seeing Ilya cowering behind me.
“Your sword is longer than his, Ilya. Aim for his hands and feet, and don’t let him close the distance. Don’t let him disarm you,” I whispered as I put the slim longsword in Ilya’s hand. “And don’t let him get under your skin.”
Ilya grunted.
“I already know, Mister Clarke! I’m used to having the reach disadvantage and to that sort of comment. I know how to fight against stronger opponents, and he isn’t half of a trash talker as Holst was,” Ilya said with an evil smile. “I got this.”
“Teach him a lesson,” I replied with a smile.
Ilya nodded and gave me her best ‘I’m-on-the-verge-of-tears’ face before turning around and walking to the center of the arena. Despite her tailor-made uniform and the longsword on her shoulder, Ilya looked completely out of place, like a small bird caught in a storm. With a shaky smile, she stood before Arel Nara, raised her chin, and squared her shoulders. I made a mental note telling her to keep her acting shenanigans to combat.
I returned to the bench, avoiding Elincia’s glance. The Fortifier applied the barriers around Ilya’s body. As before, the work wasn’t bad; it was just sloppy on the edges. The difference would be too subtle to catch for anyone without a good grasp of mana detection. Even if I complained now, the Fortifier could brush me off, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t brewing a plan.
“She’s using that technique, uh?” Firana said.
“What technique?” I asked, sitting on the bench and patting Zaon’s shoulder. The boy leaned back with a towel on his face, still trying to control his accelerated heartbeat.
“Shu has been helping Ilya with her acting skills.”
I massaged my temples, worried. The news wasn’t at all surprising. I was already familiar with the little harpy shenanigans. Shu might already be a genius of manipulation at the young age of seven, but I didn’t foresee the little harpy teaching her dark arts to others.
Arel Nara greeted the crowd, his perfect smile reeking of overconfidence. Then, he walked to the Prince’s box with sluggish movements and bowed deeply. Arel Nara might be a braggart, but not a complete fool. He deliberately stalled combat as much as possible while Ilya trembled like a leaf with her longsword tight against her chest.
The Master of Ceremonies let the performance continue for a few seconds, unaware of the fact the battle had already started.
“Combatants, to the center!” He finally announced.
Arel Nara strolled back to the center of the arena, mindlessly swinging his sword and stretching his shoulders. Ilya remained still.
“The fight will end when one of the participants runs out of barriers. There will be no pause between barrier breaks. If you want to give up, raise your hand,” the Master of Ceremonies repeated the rules, looking at Ilya. “On guard!”
Ilya imitated Zaon’s guard, the pflug, not giving her opponent a single hint of the skills she had on her sleeve.
“Fight!”
Ilya stepped forward and swung at Arel Nara’s shin. The boy raised his leg out of the way and countered with a jumping attack that landed on Ilya’s chest. The girl fell on her back, but instead of going for the following attack, Arel Nara turned his back to Ilya and riled up the crowd.
Ilya used her sword to stand up. When she raised her guard, Arel Nara spun around, pushing her sword to the side. Ilya answered with a choreographed thrust, but Arel Nara dodged with enough time to get to Ilya’s side and deal a powerful blow with the pommel of his sword.
Ilya slammed the ground again, her uniform and face covered in dust. The crowd was ruthless, cheering for the strongest warrior. The underdog concept didn’t seem to exist in this world, which wasn’t surprising considering that underdogs, lesser Classes, had marginal opportunities to win against a more powerful opponent.
Ilya was two barriers down.
“You chose the wrong Class, Gnome. Your kind belongs to a workshop, not the battlefield.” Arel Nara taunted Ilya. “I don’t know what lies your Caretaker whispered in your ears, so let me be clear. You are falling short of the mark.”
Ilya separated her feet and adopted the vom tag guard, angering her opponent.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara grunted as a wave washed over the Warrior’s body, and with a mighty cry, he cast a fortifying spell.
Ilya assessed the situation instantly and channeled her power but didn’t use any skill. She remained vigilant. Arel Nara performed a jumping thrust followed by a quick slash. Ilya parried the first attack and ducked in time to dodge the follow-up.
The crowd yelled for blood, but Ilya used her longer blade to keep Arel Nara at bay, aiming at his hand instead of his body. It was a clever tactic. She not only had the reach advantage, but a longsword packed the power of both arms, unlike the arming sword used with a single hand. Arel Nara burned his mana trying to break Ilya’s defense, but the girl was used to fighting against Wolf and Firana.
Being the ‘worst’ student had its benefits. During sparring, Ilya always fought larger, stronger, or more skillful opponents, and she had developed a system to make up for the difference in body span. Ilya’s defensive style was perfect for zoning out aggressive opponents. Moreover, Ilya was a smart fighter.
Arel Nara burned his mana to get a hit, but Ilya defended like a porcupine. The more Arel Nara approached, the more chances he had of getting stung, and he wasn’t willing to lose a single barrier against Ilya. Not taking a shield was costing him dearly. Longswords had a bad matchup against an arming sword paired with a shield.
Arel Nara attacked once more, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Ilya retreated, dodging and blocking, but the fortifying spell wasn’t in vain. Arel Nara pushed Ilya’s sword aside and seized the opening on the girl’s defense. With a quick step forward, he secured a clean slash across Ilya’s chest. The girl tried to riposte, but he retreated before she could hit.
Ilya was three barriers down and hadn’t broken a single one yet.
Arel Nara’s assault was relentless, and Ilya was starting to breathe heavily; dust and sweat covered her, and even her stance was getting sloppy at times. Ilya was a more skilled fighter, but Arel Nara’s stamina was superior; a prolonged fight would only benefit him.
“Not that good without a bow, are you?” Arel Nara taunted. “What are you going to do? Cast Piercing Shot with a sword?”
“I’m not the one running out of mana,” Ilya spoke for the first time in the combat.
Her words were a slap against Arel Nara’s face, who instantly interrupted the fortifying skill.
“You need four times your mana for that skill to have any effect in this fight,” Ilya taunted him. “You should try something else. Quick-step? Puncture, maybe? No? Even a Level 5 Soldier should have two or three skills at their disposal. Don’t tell me you decided to participate in the tournament with a single skill, please.”
Ilya’s taunt worked. Despite being three barriers down, she had made Arel Nara work hard for them.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara said, channeling mana around his sword.
Ilya raised his guard, with the hilt of her sword at eye level and the point of the sword aiming forward. Ochs. She braced for the attack, but Arel Nara remained still. Then, he let the sword go, but it didn’t fall. Instead, the sword floated by his side, pointing menacingly at Ilya.
“I’m not a Soldier. I’m a Warrior,” Arel Nara grunted.
The sword flew in a straight line like a bullet, but Ilya blocked it. What she didn’t expect was Arel Nara running forward. The boy channeled mana and cast Iron Skin around his leg as he threw a high kick. Ilya leaned back, dodging by millimeters, but before she could counter against her unarmed opponent, Arel Nara’s sword flew back at her, stabbing her shoulder blade and breaking the fourth barrier.
Arel Nara smirked.
“Your choice, getting kicked or stabbed,” he said. “Forget that. For a Gnome, getting kicked might be more appropriate.”
Ilya smirked back. “That’s it? If you have any hidden skill, I warn you, this might be the moment to use it.”
The arming sword came back to life, spinning and circling Ilya, threatening to attack at any moment. Ilya remained impassive. She had prepared a plan. Mana surged from her chest, and just as the blade launched forward, a thick vine shot from the ground. The sword pierced the vine from side to side, but before Arel Nara could yank it back, the vine coiled around the blade like a boa constrictor.
Arel Nara strengthened his body and made a run for the sword, but Ilya stood in his way.
“Did you lose something, idiot?” She grinned as she thrusted.
Arel Nara cast Iron Skin and blocked Ilya’s blade with his forearm. The skill shrouded his barriers, preventing them from breaking, but the girl didn’t stop. She weaved a series of attacks and feints in a single fluid movement. Arel Nara retreated, casting Iron Skin around his arms and legs to block Ilya’s blows. Each time Ilya swung the sword, a chunk of Arel’s mana was blasted into the air until the signs of Mana Exhaustion started to show. Ilya ran him down, and the boy’s movements became erratic.
In a desperate last attempt to recover his sword, Arel Nara channeled all his remaining mana into the blade and tried to overpower Ilya’s vine; however, the girl effortlessly countered with her much bigger reserves. Sword and vine fought, but in the end, the vine imprisoned the blade against the ground.
“Your choice, surrender or get stabbed by a Gnome,” Ilya mockingly said.
[Awareness] brought Ilya’s words to my ears. A quick lesson in sportsmanship might be needed, but I decided to leave it for later. Ilya was making a statement. Not only was she a competent fencer, but she was also an intelligent fighter. The best part: she only used a fraction of her power.
Arel Nara gestured to raise his hand, but Ilya smacked it down with her sword before he could completely raise it: one barrier down, nine to go. Arel Nara opened her eyes in surprise. Ilya pressed the attack, breaking barrier after barrier until Arel Nara was left with only one. The spectators changed sides the moment the tides turned, roaring every time Ilya penetrated a barrier.
Arel Nara was trapped against the arena wall.
“I care very little about what you say about me, but I will not tolerate any ill comments against Mister Clarke. Idiot.” Ilya said, lowering her sword. “You have two options now. You can surrender or make a further fool of yourself trying to retrieve your sword.”
It had been a while since one of my students made me blush.
Arel Nara unenthusiastically raised his hand and returned to the pavilion with his head down before the Master of Ceremonies could announce his defeat. Ilya retrieved Arel Nara’s sword, or rather made the vine do it for her, and walked to the Prince’s box. She performed a gracious bow and saluted the spectators with an innocent smile. I couldn’t decide if the crowd was happy for Ilya or gloating at Arel Nara’s defeat.
Among the seats of the high nobility, Ginz leaned over the handrail with half of his body outside the box. A member of the royal army frantically grabbed him by the belt to prevent him from falling into the arena. Ginz would’ve made a great English hooligan if he had been born in London or its surroundings. I couldn’t help but share the feeling, but my position required me to maintain a certain level of composure.
Ilya skipped toward Ginz and high-fived him before returning to the pavilion.
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I just got my second negative test results for bv, trich, and yeast. Was told I had bv back in january, the string odor went away with the antibiotics. Symptoms came back recently, no pain or itchiness, distinctly unpleasant smell, it gets left behind in any shorts/pants I wear for any period of time, excess discharge ranging from white clumps to yellow green mucus. I have gotten std panels consistently. I’ve had the implant for 6 years, irregular periods. I really want to figure out what’s going on😭. Does this sound like anything specific to anyone? Where do I go from here?

I was very satisfied with almost everything I ate this trip! My stomach and I were very pleased.
Here's a very brief and probably not very informative review on some of the places we ate at, and an arbitrary rating upon 5 that considers taste, price, and might possibly also be affected by my mood on that day and the weather. (I never claimed to be a professional reviewer)

• Monkey Bar (4.1) - Not bad! I prefer the burger over the french dip, which was a bit too salty for my taste, but my friends preferred the latter.
• Raoul's (4.2) - Burger good, better than Monkey Bar. Steak yummy too.
• Keens (4) - Tasty and tender but the beef left this super strange and grainy texture on our teeth, we all had to go back and brush
• St. Anselm (4.7) - My fav steak place of the bunch. My friends preferred Keens though.
• Laserwolf (4.6) - Really yummy tbh! Maybe not worth the price but still good.
• 4 Horsemen (4.5) - Not bad, not excccceeptional.
• Sixty Three Clinton (4.8) - So good and so worth it! Although honestly all of the addons can be skipped - it's perfect without and the addons kinda make the meal too heavy. They gave me a free drink too which was nice!
• Atoboy (4.5) - Pretty yummy and not expensive, but it also didn't really taste fine. A lot of thick, creamy, dishes that children and picky eaters would enjoy. Still a good meal!
• Thirteen Water (4.8) - Really good and inexpensive omakase. I'm usually skeptical of non-traditional additions (foiegras, caviar, truffle, etc.) but nothing was overdone and the flavours were all balanced. The Hokkaido uni tasted much better than the local uni I had at Atoboy.
• Raku (5) - SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good. For us, the broth in the simple bowls (kitsune, wakame) was much nicer than the broth in the iron pots (niku)!
• Xi'an (1) - We're Chinese so this might be too critical but the texture of the noodles was hard and dry, the flavour was very 1 dimensional, the meat wasn't tender or tenderised, the dumpling filling was bland, and the dumpling skin was unacceptably thick. But I saw some fellow Chinese recommending it too so we might just have different preferences!
• Chipotle (4.3) - I'd heard that they were stingy and the quality dropped a lot but I thought the portions were HUGE and everything tasted pretty good! They were so generous with everything, especially the pork. Wonder what it used to be like if this is the downgraded version
• Joe's Pizza (4.3) - Tasty, not bad not amazing
• L'Industrie Pizza (4.7) - Yummy! Def better than Joe's. I might have rated it higher but I saw the person who ordered after us get a slice with a lot more toppings so that might have made me slightly sad
• Los Tacos (4) - Yummy but is it just me or is it really expensive for what it's worth.......
• Yellow Rose (4.7) - I didn't see this place recommended in any of the popular lists but it appeared in the Michelin guide and I just booked it cause it was cheap but this was really delicious! But also I live a bajillion miles from Mexico so I'm definitely not the best gauge - idk anything about Mexican food
• Katz's (4) - My friends liked it but it was too salty for me! They're really generous with the samples though, the carver kept cutting more and more and somehow it's yummier when you grab the fresh slices and eat it there (instead of in the sandwich). It's just the vibe.
• Lysee (4.7) - Delicioussssss but the prix fixe was way too much for 2 girls (especially between a heavy lunch and before a heavy dinner). I especially love the corn and the Lysee bc they're so unique and taste so distinctly Asian. The kouign amann and strawberry tart were delicious too, but if I had limited stomach space I'd pick the other two!
• Levain (4.6) - People suggested skipping this place but it pulled through! Really good cookie I loved it, but it's too expensive imo. Still worth a try.
• Magnolia Bakery (3) - Skippable

And that's all the places that I remember for now! Not sure if anyone will read this but I got a lot of recommendations when I asked for them and I'm so grateful for them, so I thought I might as well come back with the feedback 😗

My wife, Mia, and I were driving cross-country. It was our first attempt at the “Great American Roadtrip.”
Mia and I rented a small RV; more of a camper than a full blown RV. We packed up a couple suitcases with plenty of room for any souvenirs and we hit the dusty trail.
We started our journey on the “Mother Road”-- Route 66-- driving south from Chicago until we connected to i-70 and shot straight west through Missouri.
The goal was to see those parts of the country we had never seen before, stopping anywhere that seemed interesting. From the plains of Kansas up through the badlands of Wyoming and South Dakota.
In Missouri we saw the world’s largest cap gun. In Kansas we visited the Evel Knievel Museum and the World’s Largest Belt Buckle.
We love all those kitschy, tourist trap places.
Eventually, we made it to Colorado and after a few hours more of driving through amber waves of grain, we saw them... the Rocky Mountains.
We made an exit and headed north through the winding mountain highways.
The Rockies were gorgeous. Snow capped in the middle of summer, some of the peaks pierced through the white fluffy clouds.
We saw a sign that read “Traffic Tunnel - 3 Miles.”
A little further and sure enough, there it was, a large tunnel bored directly through the mountain in front of us.
A large sign read, “Pike Tunnel - Longest Traffic Tunnel in the Nation! - Please turn your headlights on now.”
“How long is it?” asked Mia.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped.
But she was right, there was no information beyond the detail that this was the longest tunnel in the nation.
“Can’t be more than a mile or two,” I said as I watched the little white car ahead of us slip into the darkness. A moment later we joined it.
The tunnel was lit by fluorescents that gave everything a greenish yellow tinge. On the left hand side was a raised walkway behind a railing for maintenance access.
Initially I was struck by the incredible amount of work that went into the construction of this man- made marvel.
“We’re under a million tons of rocky mountain right now,” I said.
“How many years before this caves in?” Mia responded.
I shot her a look--
“Let’s save the cave-in talk until we’re out on the other side.”
“I’m just saying, nature will take this back eventually,” she continued.
I scanned the empty road ahead of us.
“Where did the other car go?” I asked.
We were now alone in the tunnel, no cars ahead of us nor behind us.
“Huh... they must have sped off ahead. Maybe they’re scared of a cave-in?”
My Spotify playlist had stopped playing. Mia looked at the phone.
“No cell service.”
She turned on the radio and spun the dial only to find static.
“You’re not going to be able to pick up a station in here,” I said.
She turned the volume down.
“Just wanted to check... If only we had some CDs. This tunnel really keeps going.”
“I would have thought we’d be through it by now,” I replied.
I looked at the RV’s odometer, 45,600 miles. I picked up speed. I wanted to try and catch up to the little white car.
Up until this point, the tunnel was a straight shot, but now the tunnel started to curve to the right. It may have been my imagination but it also felt as though we were descending…
Mia felt it too and she started to get antsy.
“Where did that other car go? How long is this tunnel?”
There was an urgency in her voice.
I was getting nervous, claustrophobia was not usually a problem for me but when I looked down at the odometer and I saw that it had gone up by 3 miles, my mind began to wander to unsettling places.
We were descending in altitude. I could feel it. I could see a slope in the lights on the ceiling and the railing of the maintenance walkway. I could feel a pressure in my head, and I was getting cold.
“Could you grab me a coke from the back, Mia?”
I couldn’t have Mia getting anxious, that would only start a chain reaction and make me freak out which would then make her freak out.
She unbuckled and ducked into the back of the RV to where we had a cooler stocked with drinks and food.
Just as she stepped into the back, I saw something.
There standing on the side of the road was a MAN wearing a reflective safety vest and a hard hat. He was WAVING to me as I passed him by.
Something about him looked... strange…
I watched him in the side-view mirror as we passed and he was still watching the RV, still waving at the back of our vehicle as he faded into the distance.
Mia reappeared from the back of the RV, Coke in hand. She popped it and handed it to me.
“You look worried.”
“I’m fine,” I smiled and took a sip of the Coke.
“Eric, slow down!”
I slammed on the breaks as I saw what made Mia scream. In the road in front of us was a roadblock.
Two reflective traffic sawhorses blocked both lanes of the tunnel. Beyond the roadblock, the lights of the tunnel were dark. There was nothing but a void of blackness.
Standing in front of the roadblock was another man wearing a reflective vest and a hard hat, only this time his hard hat had a light on top which obscured his face.
We came to a jolting stop.
I turned to Mia
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s a cave-in isn’t it?”
“God, I hope not.”
I rolled down the window, leaned out and yelled to the man in the hard hat.
“Hey! What’s going on?!”
The man was about 5 yards away. He took two steps towards us and then raised a hand to his mouth and yelled.
“Just doing some maintenance!”
“How long is it going to take?!” I yelled back.
The man made a hand gesture as if he didn’t hear me.
“How long is it going to take?!” I called again.
He made the same gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed the door release.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“I gotta know what’s going on.”
“Eric, just stay here, it might not be safe.”
“I’ll be just a second,” I said.
I pushed the door open and stepped down from the RV.
“Stay in your vehicle!” the man yelled.
He took a couple steps towards me with his hand out telling me to stop.
“What’s the hold up?!” I shouted.
The man was a bit closer now but I still couldn’t see his face through the shining light on his helmet.
“Please stay in your vehicle!” he shouted.
There was something off about him.
Then I heard it–
“EEEAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!”
A scream, or something, rolled from deep in the tunnel. The worker turned and looked into the darkness. Then he ran past the barricades and soon all we could see of him was the light on his helmet.
The light disappeared a moment later.
“What the hell was that?! Is someone hurt?” Mia asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Should we do something?” Mia asked.
I just sat there and watched the pitch black tunnel in front of me. I had no idea what to tell her. I checked the sideview mirrors. There was still nobody behind us.
“Where are the other cars?” I asked.
“They must have gotten through before the roadblock... Or maybe they caused the roadblock?” Mia replied.
“I saw another worker a little ways back. We could try to go back and talk to him.”
“We’d be going straight into any oncoming cars.”
“There’s a maintenance walkway. We didn’t pass him that long ago. We can probably catch him on foot.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the guy to come back.”
She reached over and grabbed my arm. I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
I looked out at the tunnel ahead of us. I turned on the RV’s high beams but all I could see beyond the roadblock was more tunnel and more road.
I checked my phone. Unsurprisingly, there was no service still.
We waited, but the man never came back.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mia said, “How come there hasn’t been another car behind us?
I was having the same thought. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I looked back at the road behind us. It went back about 200 yards before curving out of sight.
There was no sign of that first worker I saw on the maintenance walk way. I looked at the roadblock ahead of us and clicked on the RV’s high beams. There was nothing beyond the roadblock but more tunnel. It didn’t look like it was under construction, just very dark.
“I think we should keep going,” I said.
“What about the roadblock?”
“We’ll move those sawhorses out of the way and just drive past,” I said as I opened my door.
Mia looked at me, then she cast her eyes to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I knew she was processing the same limited options that I was.
Driving backwards would be a huge risk in the instance of another car finally coming along.
Getting out and walking would take God knows how long, we could have driven 10 miles at this point.
Forward was our best option.
“Let’s do it,” Mia said.
We jumped out and quickly pulled the two sawhorses out of the right lane. I pulled the RV up past the barriers, then we jumped out again and put the sawhorses back where they were. We didn't need another car to come barreling through.
We were finally moving again, slowly. It was pitch black save for the high beams of the RV.
We crept forward at around 15 miles per hour. As the tunnel turned and twisted, my eyes started to play tricks on me. I kept seeing shapes at the furthest point of the tunnel.
I kept seeing something standing just at the end of the next bend but as we roll forward, there was nothing there.
“Where are the workers?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
I was done rationalizing. This was all wrong. Traffic tunnels are never this long.
My mind started to wander to all the road trip urban legends I’d read about; The Killer in the Backseat, The Disappearing Gas Station, The Pale Man In The Corn Field.
Did we stumble into some strange outlier location? An in-between point on the endless roads that cross this country?
Then I saw it–
“Look! A person! Thank god!” Mia shouted.
As we rounded a curve in the tunnel, a group of maintenance workers entered our view.
The three of them stood on the left side of the road behind two more sawhorses topped with flashing lights.
Two of them faced towards us, the third was facing the other two.
The one with his back to us wore a light on his hard hat. Was this the same guy we saw earlier? How did he get this far away?
I approached slowly and rolled down the window.
“Hey! You left us waiting back there!” I yelled.
There was no response.
In fact, all three men were completely silent, and it was hard to tell in the flashing light of the sawhorses, but they looked to be standing COMPLETELY STILL.
“Hello?!” I yelled again.
I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Eric wait--”
I held up a finger to Mia.
“Just a second.”
I slowly stepped towards the 3 men.
“Hello?”
No response… What the fuck?
The bright lights of the sawhorses obscured their faces.
I kept moving closer.
“Hey, what’s going on--”
Then I saw it.
Their faces... They were plastic.
In front of me stood three mannequins.
I backed away toward the RV, then I turned and walked hurriedly to the vehicle.
I was seriously freaked out but I didn’t want to alarm Mia. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“They’re mannequins.” I said.
“What?”
“They’re mannequins.”
”Why?... What?...”
“I don’t know…”
I looked back over at the three figures and my blood ran cold…
The Hard Hat Mannequin had somehow TURNED AROUND to face us. All three figures appeared to be watching us now.
Then we heard it--
A loud resonant banging on the side, and then the roof of the RV.
“What the hell was that?” Mia whispered.
We listened, holding our breath. Then--
A shuffling sound--
Something was moving ON or IN the RV.
“Stay here.” I said.
I got up.
“Eric, wait!”
I moved to the back of the RV.
It was dark. I went for a drawer in the kitchenette space and pulled out a flashlight.
I moved to the rear of the RV, the bedroom. My flashlight illuminated an empty room.
“Whoever is back here, I have a gun…”
A shitty bluff. But I didn’t see anything.
I shone the light out of the windows of each side of the RV. Nothing.
Then I heard it–
A shuffling sound, from right above me.
I looked up and screamed–
“Fuck!”
On the roof of the RV, staring through the skylight was a woman with vacuous black eyes and a dead smile.
Her stringy black hair dangled down towards me casting thing black shadows across her horrible pale face.
“Mia, drive! Fast!” I screamed.
Mia JUMPED over to the driver’s seat, shifted into gear and STOMPED on the gas. The RV was clunky but it could move when it needed to.
We lurched forward and I fell back.
I trained my flashlight up onto the skylight again and the woman was gone.
I scrambled to my feet and looked out of the side windows.
Did Mia shake her off? There was no sign of the woman. I moved to the passenger seat, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What happened?” She asked, keeping the RV at a steady 50 mph.
“There was a woman on the roof,” I said flatly.
I realize now that I was in a kind of shock.
“A woman?”
“Her eyes were black.”
Mia just looked at me, then back at the tunnel ahead of us.
“There’s something wrong with this tunnel.” I whispered.
Mia pointed at the road ahead, “Look.”
I looked out at the tunnel. There were more mannequins. A LOT more mannequins. They were positioned on both sides of the road.
They were all facing us and even though I never saw them move, when I looked in the side-view mirror, they were somehow STILL facing us, turning to watch us as we drove past. Watching without eyes.
“Just keep driving.” I said.
As we drove on, the mannequins crowded the sides of the road more and more. There were thousands of them. Eventually they were so close that some of their outstretched arms hit the side of the RV.
They were closing in on us. Squeezing our path forward. One stood in the middle of the road.
“I don’t think i can get around it.”
“Run it over. Don’t stop.”
The RV smashed into the mannequin. Its head shot forward and bounced against the windshield and the vehicle shuddered as it rolled over the body.
Soon there were two in the road. Then three.
I could see where this was going. Pretty soon there would be too many for the RV to ram through, but goddammit we were going to get through as many as we could.
“Speed up, Mia.”
CRASH!
The sound was surreal, smashing into mannequin after mannequin at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Hands, legs, heads and torsos flew.
The windshield cracked, the RV shuddered and screamed and eventually slowed down, despite the screaming engine.
I’m certain the axle was jammed up with lifeless, plastic body parts. Eventually we came to a stop.
“She won’t move,” Mia said.
She pressed on the gas but it was no use, the RV just rocked a little bit.
“Try reverse.”
She shifted and pressed on the gas, we got some decent movement before running into another jam.
“Fuck.”
“Should we get out and look?” Mia asked.
“I’ll go,” I said as I grabbed the flashlight and popped the passenger door. Mia unbuckled her seatbelt.
“We’ll go together.”
We stumbled out of the RV on the passenger side. It was like stepping into Hell.
Countless, lifeless faces stared out at us from the darkness. The only light came from the headlights of the RV and my flashlight.
We clumsily made our way along the side of the RV. The ground was littered with mannequin pieces.
I thought to myself, if we could get a couple yards cleared out behind the rear tires, we might be able to back out and get enough momentum to reverse all the way back out of here.
Instead, when we got to the back of the RV, my stomach flipped and my heart sank.
I was expecting to see a trail of flattened mannequins, instead the RV was now surrounded by thousands of perfectly intact mannequins standing at attention. As if their ranks had some how been replenished after our vehicular assault.
“This is impossible.”
She started to cry. I held her close.
“We’ll keep moving.” I said.
“It will never end. The tunnel makes no sense. It only curves one direction.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole time the tunnel has only been curving to the right. it would sometimes straighten out or go left for a few yards but before too long we were curving to the right again. We’ve either been driving in circles or spiraling downwards.”
“So we’ll go back the way we came and hope we’re not going in circles.” I said.
We had been driving for hours at this point. Walking back out the way we came would take days. But now that I thought about it, Mia was right, we’d only been curving to the right.
This tunnel seemed to be very gradually taking us downwards into the earth.
Going forward would not get us any closer to escape.
“We’ll need food from the RV,” Mia said.
I nodded and we stumbled our way back to the front of the RV, the mannequins’ lifeless faces watching us the whole time.
I stepped up to the passenger door and nearly fell back when I looked through the window.
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
What I saw were two mannequins sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
How they got in there? I have no idea, but what really made my blood run cold was that they were dressed EXACTLY like MIA and I.
They wore identical sets of clothes. The one in the passenger seat had my same New Order T-shirt and black jeans. The one in the driver’s seat had Mia’s green striped sweater and denim shorts.
Their plastic faces stared out through the shattered windshield at the endless crowd of mannequins staring back at them.
Mia stepped up and saw the uncanny display.
“What the fuck?” Mia echoed.
I pulled myself up into the RV and slowly stepped around my mannequin doppelgänger. I avoided looking into its face but I swear i could feel it watching me as I stumbled around it.
Mia followed and we made our way into the back of our dark RV. Luckily we had just stocked our cooler full of deli meat and water not long after crossing the Colorado state line.
I handed Mia the flashlight and pulled open the cooler. I filled a backpack full of food and water.
I turned and saw them–
My mannequin double had somehow moved. It was standing in the aisle watching us.
Mia’s doppelgänger was still seated in the driver’s seat but had turned to peer back at us with its eyeless gaze.
Mia saw the look in my eyes and turned. She screamed when she saw them and backed into me. I put my arm around her and we stood there a moment, letting our skyrocketing heart rates return to Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
I slid the backpack onto my shoulders.
Mia joined me at the door. I looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?” She nodded. I kissed her.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” she said.
The look on her face killed me. She was terrified. I’m sure the look on my face was similar.
I opened the door and we stepped out…
We again stumbled to the back of the RV. Once we were clear of the RV and all the crushed mannequin body parts, it became easier to find footing, though weaving through an endless crowd of lifeless people was a slow process.
It was pitch black. Without the flashlight we wouldn’t be able to see a foot in front of us.
As I walked, the beam of light created the illusion of movement in the crowd. At least I hoped it was an illusion.
The limbs of the mannequins seemed to stretch and turn, but the only sound was that of Mia and I shuffling our way through the crowded tunnel.
Things went on like this for what felt like hours. Mia and I were sweating and aching. I was about to suggest we stop and rest, but then I saw it and I froze…
Out in the crowd, beyond rows of blank faces I saw a pale face, black hair and a dead smile.
I saw two vacuous eyes staring right at me.
“Mia, do you see her?” I whispered.
“See who?”
I slowly raised my arm and pointed.
It was the woman, or whatever it was, that stared back at me through the skylight on the roof of the RV.
“Oh my god!” Mia squeaked.
I could see now that the Pale Faced Woman was tall. A few inches taller than the mannequins.
As I pointed, she stared back at me with that terrible grin.
“What do we do?” Mia whispered.
I raised the flashlight and pointed it right at the Pale Faced Woman. I thought maybe this would scare her off.
I was wrong.
The light only made her appear more unsettling as she stared back, unflinchingly.
“What do you want?!” I yelled.
She only stared back at me. She was as still as the mannequins.
“We have to keep going.” I whispered.
Mia didn’t respond. Her body was tense as she held onto me.
“We’ve come this far, we can’t turn back again,” I continued.
I pulled Mia’s hand and we continued on our way through the mannequins, keeping the distance between us and her as wide as possible.
As we moved past, she kept watching us. Though her movements were imperceptible to us, her eyes never left us. Like one of those portraits whose eyes appear to watch you no matter where you stand.
Finally, we got far enough that she was out of sight. But the thought of her being somewhere behind us only unsettled me further and I quickened our pace.
As the hours wore on, there was no sign of the Pale Faced Woman and the crowd of mannequins began to thin out. They still populated the tunnel from one end to the other, but there was more space between them, allowing Mia and I to walk more freely.
The mannequins on the maintenance walkway on the side of the tunnel seemed to thin out as well and I decided it would give us a better vantage if we were walking up there.
I helped Mia climb up the railing that bordered the walkway, then I climbed up behind her. The walkway was elevated 3 or 4 feet above the roadway. We could easily see over the heads of the mannequins in both directions.
There was, of course, no end to the tunnel in sight.
We kept walking.
The mannequins continued to thin out, but they were different now.
There were mannequins dressed as maintenance workers again, but also mannequins dressed as families and businessmen. There was even a group of mannequin nuns standing in a single file line, heads bowed in prayer.
Needless to say, we passed none of this on the way in to the tunnel. I was feeling very hopeless that we were going to be able to find our way out.
I was far beyond speculating how this was at all possible. It’s NOT possible. And even if it were, there is no good reason for someone to do this to us.
The only explanation was the supernatural. Then I saw Her. Rather, I saw THEM.
Arranged in the middle of the tunnel was a circle of mannequins with long black hair and tattered cloth.
They looked exactly like the Pale Faced Woman, minus any facial features. I kept a close watch on them as we passed to make sure they didn’t start following us.
“A door!” Mia shouted.
Mia pointed a few paces ahead of her. There was a door leading into the wall of the tunnel.
We ran towards it. Mia grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled. It was heavy and Mia had to brace her foot on the wall to get it moving.
The metal door groaned as if it hadn’t been opened in years.
Finally, it was open enough to see past.
It was a hallway. It went out about 5 yards then turned right at a 90 degree angle.
The strangest part was the design of the hallway.
It wasn’t cement or pavement like the tunnel.
The walls were wood paneled and the floor was covered in a thick carpet, like a house from the 1970s.
“I say we see where this takes us.” Mia said.
There was no reason to disagree, but I wasn’t going to get us trapped in there.
I opened up my backpack and took out a water bottle. I opened it and handed it to Mia. She drank half, then I drank the other half.
I slowly closed the door, shoving the empty water bottle in the crack to keep it from closing all the way.
I turned to Mia-- “Okay, let’s go.”
We slowly made our way down the quiet hallway. We got down to where the hallway cornered to the right and that’s when we heard it–
KA-CHUNK!!!--
I whipped around. The door had closed behind us. I ran back to it and tried to push it open, but it was no use. There was no way it closed on its own.
Someone had to have removed the water bottle. Our path had been chosen for us.
There was no turning back.
We continued down the hallway. We turned right. The hallway continued, then turned right again. That should have led us right back to the tunnel. But it didn’t. This part of the hallway went on far longer than was possible without running into the tunnel. Then it turned right again.
It went on like this. Sometimes a section of the hallway was 20 feet long, sometimes it was 20 yards long, sometimes it was 3 feet long. But it always turned to the right.
At first it was a relief to be somewhere other than the cold, dark tunnel. But the hallway very quickly became claustrophobic and before too long, I heard someone walking behind us.
We had stopped to take a break and I heard a third pair of footsteps on the carpet coming from behind us. I backtracked to the last corner.
I was terrified as I slowly peeked around the corner, tense and waiting to see the vacuous eyes and inky black hair of the Pale Faced Woman... but there was nothing there. I wasn’t about to backtrack any further.
“There was no one there.” I whispered.
Mia slumped against the wall and slid down to the carpet.
“I think I need to rest.” She said.
I put my backpack down on the ground for Mia to use as a pillow. She laid her head down and was passed out in seconds.
I had no idea how long we had been walking at this point. I stood leaning against the wall. My body was telling me to rest but I couldn’t risk falling asleep. I had to keep watch. I knew SHE was following us.
I took in the details of the hallway for the first time. The carpet was a dull brown and the walls a cheap wood paneling. The hanging lighting fixtures were shaded by stained glass, something you might see in an old diner.
Who built this place? Did someone pick out the carpet and the lighting fixtures? Did a team of workers blast these tunnels into the Earth? Or has this place always existed? Was this Purgatory?
I began to feel dizzy. I was panicking. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I slumped to the floor and tried to slow my breathing.
I closed my eyes... –
I SHOT up in a panic. I had fallen asleep while I was meant to be keeping watch.
I snapped to my feet and looked around.
Mia was still asleep on my backpack.
Then I noticed that the hallway had changed. A few paces away there was now a plain wooden door in the wall.
I slowly approached it. I put my ear to the door and I could hear what sounded like TV static and the low murmur of voices.
I discreetly grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly. I felt the latch bolt clear and I carefully cracked the door just enough to peek inside.
It was dark, so it took a second for me to register what I was seeing. I saw a small board room. A long table in the center was surrounded by seated men in suits.
At the end of the table stood another man next to an old CRT TV that was playing static. This was the only source of light in the room and all the men around the table were turned towards the tv.
Suddenly the screen flickered from static to a solid dark background. And some warped new age style muzak began playing.
Then the words appeared on the screen that terrified me like nothing else before. In plain text the words read–
“YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I froze as I knew these words were meant for me I watched with terror as the men seated around the table slowly turned toward me in unison.
They were mannequins.
The TV screen then clicked off and they continued staring at me as I could barely make out their forms through the near pitch darkness.
I quickly pulled the door shut. And whipped around to look at Mia, I had a horrible feeling of dread that when I turned around she would be gone, like the message on the TV promised–
“Eric? What are you doing?” Mia was leaning up and staring at me.
Thank God. There was Mia, right where I left her.
I pointed at the door and said, “This door appeared and I--”
“What door?” she interrupted.
I turned and sure enough, the door was now gone.
I explained what happened to her, but I left out the message that appeared on the screen.
-- YOU WILL LOSE HER –
Those words still burned in my brain. I tried to force them out.
We drank water, ate granola and then got moving again.
Hallways. Endless hallways.
After a couple hours of walking we started to hear music. There were small speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
I recognized it as the same new-age muzak that played on the TV in the board room. The melody drilled into our minds. Combined with the dull aesthetics of the quiet hallways and the endless right turns, the music had a hypnotizing effect.
The lengths of the halls became more uniform. That is to say, the straight section of hallway was about 7 paces, then a right turn, then 7 paces and a right turn.
“I think we’re walking in circles... or a square,” Mia said.
I looked at her and took out a bottle of water. I peeled off the plastic label and dropped it on the floor.
Then we kept walking.
7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. And there it was... Mia was right.
The label from my water bottle lay in the middle of the hallway. Somehow we had been led into a loop. I lost it.
“FUUUCK!”
I kicked the wall repeatedly and screamed. Mia just leaned her back against the wall.
This was our dynamic. If one of us lost it, the other became zen and thought of a solution. More often than not, I was the one to lose it.
I finally stopped freaking out
“There has to be a way out. A door,” Mia said.
“We would have seen it,” I replied.
“A hidden door,” she said.
She turned around and ran her hands along the cracks of the wood paneling.
“Most likely on the outer wall,” she said.
She beat her fist on the wall, listening for a change in the sound. I exhaled heavily, sweating and tired, and I started searching the wall as well.
We checked the whole first wall, nothing. We checked the second wall, nothing. The third, nothing.
The final wall... Nothing. I gave up and slumped on the floor. Mia immediately went over to the other side of the hall and started checking the inner wall.
“What are you doing? I thought you said it would be on the outer wall?” I asked.
Then we heard it.
Mia beat the wall and instead of the dead thud, we heard a resonate BOOM –
A door…
I shot up and started tapping the wall with Mia until we found where the door ended. It was the width of about 4 wooden panels. I lined myself up in the center, lowered my shoulder and pushed–
IT MOVED! It barely moved but it was enough to confirm this actually was a door! I re-centered and tried again, lowering my center of gravity, I pushed as hard as I could. The door pushed inward about 3 inches, then Mia joined in. We slowly moved the door, 5 inches, then 10, then 15, then 20.
Then Mia slipped inside.
I had a moment of panic as she disappeared into the darkness and those haunting words came back into my mind, “YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I darted past the doorway, falling through the threshold and hitting the concrete floor.
I looked up and there was Mia, thank God. I promised myself I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“The exit...” Mia said.
She looked and sounded as if she were a thousand miles away. I got to my feet and followed her gaze. What I saw nearly brought me to tears.
We were back in the tunnel, but there was light. About a mile down was the mouth of the tunnel, and daylight pouring in. Beautiful daylight. I grabbed Mia tight and kissed her.
“Thank God...” she cried.
We started moving. Nothing was going to slow us down this time. We sped up into a RUN down the maintenance walkway towards that beautiful sunlight.
As we approached, something else came into view. Parked in the middle of the roadway was a large vehicle…
It couldn’t be…
It was!
Our RV sat in the road waiting for us. We ran all the way to it, pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in. There were no mannequins to be seen.
I fell into the driver’s seat and Mia handed me the keys. I turned over the engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I shifted into gear and floored it towards the sunlight.
As we got closer, I could see the green of trees and the blue of the sky. We were maybe one hundred yards away.
I turned to Mia, tears in my eyes…
And what I saw turned my blood to ice.
Just beyond Mia’s window, that horrifying pale face grinned at me.
The Pale Faced Woman was somehow floating outside of the RV.
Before I could say anything, her hand smashed through the window and gripped Mia by the throat, then in one horrible motion the thing PULLED MIA SCREAMING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND…
Disappeared…
I SLAMMED on the breaks just as the RV passed through the exit of the tunnel and sunlight flooded the cab of the RV. I threw it in park and shot out of the door screaming.
“Mia!? Mia??!!”
I screamed over and over. I rounded the front of the RV and looked back at the tunnel –
-- and what I saw shattered my mind…
The tunnel was gone.
There was only open road.
I had lost her.

I want to be able to drop my minis on the floor or throw them into a bag of dice or other minis without damaging the paint job. Or at least I should be able to repair any wear to the top coat by reapplying more top coat.
I dont mind having a super thick top coat. If dipping them in resin is what it takes then Ill do that, but ideally the top coat would be as thin as possible.
I need to make three decisions and I need your recommendations.
1 Mini material: pewter, resin, plastic?
2 Type of paint: acrylic, oil, enamel?
3 Top coat: clear resin, clear super glue, other
I have experimented with multiple layers of super glue as a top coat. It is extremely scratch resistant. Ive even cut it with a knife and repaired the damage with another coat. The downside is that its brittle. I got chip on some of the raised up parts of the mini when dropping it.
I tried only one resin and noticed that it peeled off when scrapping with my finger nails, but I only applied a thin coat. Ill try again with multiple layers. I bet it would be rubbery enough to survive a big drop too. The downside is that it yellows pretty bad, but I hear they make UV resistant resin that wont yellow.
Any suggestions on things I should try?

I need some clarity I guess because I feel like I am going insane with this whole situation. Also, on mobile, english is my first language but I still suck at it.
My sister (37) and I have never had a good relationship. She was my worst bully growing up and even into adulthood. My parents never saw it as she convinced them I was just a liar amd exaggerated for attention. While I was in high school, she had a child with her deadbeat drug addict bf(now ex & he is clean). My younger sister and I sacrificed our whole summer to be live in nannies (moreso me) while my sister worked. Her kiddo was like a daughter to me and would cry when she couldn't see us often enough. I love her with every fiber of my being and I have been active in her life still to this day.
Now, I(30) have my own kiddo. Sister has only spent time with LO a handful of times and never alone without my niece or my mom present. After a particularly explosive bday celebration for niece, I refuse to let sister to be around LO. Sister is now shocked Pikachu face that I won't let her see LO at all. She told my mother that she has always been good to LO so she doesn't understand why she can't see LO and she never limited my access to my niece so she has every RIGHT to be in her life.
Unfortunately my own mother doesn't agree with my boundaries to not let sister be around LO. She follows them, but doesn't agree. Every time my LO is with parents for a weekend, my mom lays it on thick that it's hard not to be able to take her to my sister's house and to just "make it easier on [her]"
Am I insane? How should I approach this with my parents/sibling? Am I truly doing right by my kiddo or just being dramatic?
Birthday fiasco:
LO was only grabbing onto the yellow rocks on this play scape, sister told her to grab the other colors. I, in a normal tone, said "It's alright, she's got this." Sister got pissed at this and went off on me, calling me a cunt and said "this is why everyone is dying to get away from you"
My father died and sister blamed me for his death. LO's father died and i already blame myself for it but sister blamed me too. 3 days after he died, my sister got pissed that I refused to move back in with my parents and said that I would become a drug addict and lose custody of my child because I am weak and wouldn't be able to handle ACTUAL life.

Breed: Lab x German shepherd Age: 4.5 months, unspayed female Weight: 24lbs Location: Tacoma area, WA
History: I am a volunteer foster with a local rescue group. We picked up a litter from a rural animal hoarding situation. Puppies were confined in a crate in unhygienic conditions in a barn for first 5 weeks before we got them. Luna is the smallest of the litter. Flea/worm treatment and parvo vacc given.
She had urinary urgency (constantly squatting with no urine, or little drops at a time, often with no control ie just sitting there and would pee on herself, or would pee and then walk away like she was done but was still draining urine). She has pus-like discharge, green -yellow thick and creamy. It would be down the insides of her legs, large amounts draining constantly. A couple times a day the urine would be thick, gel-like and discolored. Sometimes she would just pee a gloop of straight pus.
Vet check: she was given a 10 day course of clavamox. Started on forti-flora and another puppy probiotic, I was giving her plain Greek yoghurt and bone broth to encourage hydration on top of Blue Buffalo Puppy food.
After 10 days of antibiotics she continued to have discharge and urinary symptoms. Vet did a Ultrasound a week after completion of course of antibiotics and said she'd never seen a bladder so full of pus. Apparently looked like a "snow globe" . She drew a syringe of urine for sample via U/sound and sent for culture. Result came back clear. Told that it will probably clear up.
A month has passed, she continues with the same symptoms. Was sitting on my feet while I was making dinner a few days ago and just peed all over us both. Her littermates potty trained beautifully. I've had a lot of experience with large breed pups and this seems unusual. I continue to find drops of pus and thick urine around the house daily. She continues to be crusty with pus inside her legs every morning (cleaning with sterile water wipes).
Third vet visit today (different vet) said he thinks vaginitis, will clear on its own. Thought follow up U/sound was unnecessary and that blood work would show nothing. He said that this is common in young females who have not been in heat yet.
The rescue is wanting to adopt her out ASAP and are proceeding with applications after today's "all clear". It isn't sitting right with me and would hate for a family take on a pup that might not be ready yet.

I had chronic sinusitis for 2 years after a complication from wisdom teeth removal. symptoms were always pretty mild but CT scans showed my entire right sinus was full of goo. the doc did FESS on my right maxillary sinus to drain the infection and trimmed down some tissue to help with future drainage. a pretty limited procedure compared to many, but here’s my first week of recovery for anyone going through something similar!
day of surgery
• I made sure I went with an ENT/hospital I liked/trusted. originally had my procedure scheduled somewhere else but decided to switch last minute— very glad I did
• they had me show up 2hrs before the procedure and took me to my pre-op room. I got into a gown, socks, and hair net. they took some urine, got me on the IV, took vitals. my BP was a little high (probably from anxiety) but didn’t cause alarm. closer to the surgery time I asked them to put some drugs in my IV to help with that
• before surgery, I got to speak with a nurse, the anesthesiologist, and my ENT/surgeon. they asked me some questions and answered any questions I had. anesthesiologist looked into my throat to make sure he had a clear path for the breathing tube. (this was my first time having one of those so I was a lil nervous. all good— in and out while I was asleep)
• when it was time for surgery nurses came and wheeled my bed into the op room. they got me laid out flat. I was still conscious at this time so I had small talk with my doc and the team for a little. somewhere in the middle of that I was out— no breathing mask, no countdown, the IV took me out before i noticed.
• suddenly regained consciousness in what I think was the same room. it felt like coming back from a nap so naturally I kept my eyes closed at first. then someone asked me if I was ready to go and I said yeah, so they wheeled me to my post-op room. that’s where they brought my mom back to meet me (she had been with me in the pre-op room). they gave me a Sprite and some crackers to check for nausea.
• another nurse came in to give me a pain pill (hydrocodone) and my post-op packet. he took my IV out and told me I could get dressed. after I was dressed they sent a wheelchair for me and another nurse wheeled me out to my mom’s car.
• had some moderate pain for the first couple hours, but I took 800mg ibuprofen when I got home and I basically had no pain after that. a steady little nosebleed until I went to bed. some slight rasp/throat clearing from the breathing tube but overall not much soreness.
• took a hydro before bed and also 4hrs later when I woke up in the middle of the night. slept with my head elevated just as a precaution— I didn’t have that much pressure. had pretty broken sleep, inside of my nose became dry/painful from all the dried blood and being advised not to stick anything in there. nothing unbearable tho. put a hot compress on my nose for a few minutes and that helped enough to get me back to sleep
day 1
• no real pain or pressure in the AM. some mild discomfort from the dried blood at first. nosebleed wasn’t as constant and came out clearer. took 800mg ibuprofen when I woke up
• back to eating regular food. I only ate soup, crackers, and pudding post-op the previous day just to re-acclimate my stomach, but had no real food restrictions. just nothing spicy and whatever I felt comfortable eating
• started post-op treatment 24hrs after the procedure. used my steam inhaler as needed and started sinus rinses 2x a day (used Brita water for the inhaler and distilled water for the rinses). doc told me I was allowed to lightly blow my nose after 24hrs. only blew during my sinus rinse
• more congestion on this day, mild headache after sinus rinse. alternated between ibuprofen and Tylenol every 3-4 hrs. hydro before bed
day 2
• woke up with a little more pressure in my face this day. slept through the previous night without much issue
• no more nosebleeds but some blood and mucus while doing sinus rinses. during the rinses I had some yellow mucus and couple blood clots but mostly clear
• more tired on this day, took an afternoon nap. think my body was trying to get back into regular REM cycles
day 3-6
• same routine— pain pills as needed, steam inhale when I felt like it, and sinus rinse a couple times a day
• had some slight congestion and cheek pressure, but nothing all that different than pre-surgery
• sinus rinses were uncomfortable at first but got easier over time. some water would get stuck in my sinuses and come out sometimes hours later
day 7
• had my first post-op appointment/debridement. can’t even lie it was mad uncomfortable but on an actual pain scale probably like a 7/10. lasted only about 3-5 mins total. the camera was sharp, the area was still sensitive, and the suctioning was crazy to hear and feel. I also think the numbing spray gun malfunctioned so it certainly would’ve been easier if I’d been numb, but I did take two Tylenol before the appointment
• I’m doing the rinses for another week and then going for another post-op in 3 weeks
if you read all the way here I hope this helps!

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

Just a throwaway post for me to vent my frustration and maybe get some opinions. So i (21f) recently moved into a share house with 6 other people. Me and my close friend (22f) had been living together for just over 2 years but moved into her boyfriend’s (22m) house as our rent had increased and we could no longer afford to stay there (yay living crisis!).
We moved in just over 3 weeks ago and I’ve been trying my best to adapt to the new dynamic of 7 people in 1 house, which is made up of two couples - my friend + her boyfriend, and a couple in their 30s, the mother of the woman in the couple, and another student like myself who mostly stays in his room.
Since moving in, I’ve done my best to assimilate and get to know my new roommates but I’m kinda still coping with the loss of my first stable home (I grew up bouncing between various family homes and never stayed in one house for longer than 1 year), and the loss hit me pretty hard. I was, or maybe still am, grieving my personal space and living independence. Don’t get me wrong, rent is now significantly lower and I’m thankful to my friends boyfriend for allowing us to move in, but the process has driven a wedge between me and my friend as it feels like she either doesn’t realise or care about how I’m affected by the whole situation. We use a group chat to communicate as a household for the most part, and it’s taken a lot to get over my social anxiety to reply to messages and talk to my roommates. I’m not a recluse by any means, but I just wanted to make it clear that it feels daunting to get to know a group of people who have already known eachother for years, and the only person going through this new experience with me has turned her back on me emotionally and she at least has her bf (who is the only person on the lease) to message on her behalf and introduced her to everyone before we even needed to move in.
My issue is the weekly cleaning schedule. I know that sounds wrong but it’s not the cleaning I have an issue with, it’s the expectations that weren’t made clear to me and the miscommunication that I was made to feel was my fault. When I moved in, the house was by no means filthy, but it wasn’t as pristine as my friend’s bf (who I’ll call H) had made it seem. I don’t consider myself to be a clean freak, but I’m pretty anal about shared surfaces and bacteria so in the beginning, you can imagine my shock when I saw the state of the bathroom. Mind you, this bathroom is decently sized but has a small shower that is absolutely stocked with everyone’s toiletries (soap, shampoo, conditioner, and extras x4) and covered with a thick layer of soapscum and pink mould, and there was literally a healthy crop of moss in the crevice where the shower door snicked shut. H had stressed in the group chat when we moved in that he and my friend would clean on saturdays, the other couple had chosen wednesdays, which left mondays, tuesdays, thursdays and fridays for me and the other two people to clean on. This would tell you the house would be spick and span right? Wrong. Long story short, I spent hours last week on Monday scrubbing the shower, the dirty corners of the bathroom floor where filthy mop water had been left to dry, borderline brown light switches back to white, and mysterious yellow drip stains on the door frames and handles to the point of becoming lightheaded from fumes. Maybe i went a little overboard but I was eager to please my roommates and couldn’t bring myself to use the bathroom until I had done so. Fast forward to this week - H had sent messages asking someone to mop the floor of the house (whole thing is white tile) sometime this week. It’s tuesday, and I had done an upkeep clean of the bathroom and disinfected the shared kitchen surfaces yesterday, which was my allocated day. H name drops me and one other roommate in the group chat to do the mop before friday, or my friend (his gf) would do it on friday as she has the day off. Here’s where I think I may have overreacted and could use the opinion of a third-party: I messaged H privately saying I thought it should be someone else’s responsibility to mop the floor and that I thought I had done a lot last week. I wasn’t looking for a thank-you, just an acknowledgment that I had at least done something, and he sent me a long message saying that it was my choice to “go beyond” and that it was basically an expectation that the floors are swept and mopped weekly, and that everyone does their part. Tbh i disagree, as both couples share one cleaning day each and somehow the house was still kinda gross, and there was literally 6 of them but I digress. I was hurt because of the fact that his message in the group chat felt like he was calling me out and making it look like I hadn’t been doing my part, plus I had thought that we were friends and that he could go about the request by at least messaging me privately if he thought I wasn’t doing enough. We had a mini-disagreement over text and we ended it tentatively with him saying he isn’t being disrespectful and just trying to keep order with cleaning, and me saying that i get it, but just bear with me as i’m still adjusting. He left me on read and now I feel awkward.
Thoughts?

PART 1:

 Every town has their own version of “The Boogeyman”. A monster, cryptid, phantom, whatever you want to call it, it’s all essentially the same thing- just a scary story they tell kids in an attempt to get them to behave. An urban legend is just a life lesson disguised as a horror story after all. For us folk living up in the tiny and once prosperous gold-mining town of Trillium, ours was known simply as The Locust Man. Now, let me start by saying, I realize how ridiculous that name must sound to you. “The Locust Man”?? Pftt…What’s he do, besides get stuck in the grill of someone’s pick-up truck. Destroy some crops? Oooh, he sounds real scary... yeah, I know. But yet, as I sit here today 20 years after the fact - a grown woman who’s wiser, stronger, and even more grounded in reality than she was at 12, I still hesitate to even write down that name. 

As a young child I had always thought it to be a little weird that our town was called Trillium, considering I had never seen a single one growing there. If you don’t know, a trillium is a small flower, usually white but they come in other color varieties as well, with three pedals and a bright yellow center. They sort of look like if you took a lily and tore off every other pedal playing “He loves me, he loves me not”. In school, about 2nd grade or so, we were taught everything about this elusive flower I’d never seen in real life, and told how proud our town was to be named after it. Trillium, Colorado was established in 1922 - A new town born in the wake of a great tragedy which befell the town that had previously sat in the same location. For us, and those that came before us, the trillium was supposed to be a symbol of hope. Knowing all that I know now, that sentiment almost makes me want to laugh - in a morbid way.

 Growing up in a small, mostly isolated town, there really wasn’t much for a kid to do. You’d have to drive 45 minutes to get to the closest mall and movie theater. The high school kids would usually all hang out at the roller rink downtown or at the old run-down burger joint called Slim’s that sat across it. But at that age, I wasn’t allowed to go hang out there by myself yet and for me, going with my parents tagging along wasn’t an option I was open to. My neighborhood was on a long dead end road leading up to a large patch of woods that separated the main part of town from the abandoned mine. The old trail the miners used was still accessible up until a point, and so me and the other kids from my street would hang out in those woods all the time. We had a “secret spot” which was, what we thought at the time, about half way through the woods, 10 steps away from a small shallow creek that pretty much ran the length of the area. Rain Creek, we called it. There was a small clearing there, and we had created our own little clubhouse using old milk crates as supports, half- broken wooden pallets as walls, along with some old lawn chairs one of the neighbors was throwing out one day. I made my contribution by bringing a tarp we had in our basement that served as the roof of our establishment. Our parents didn’t love the idea of five 10 to 12 year olds running around in the woods by ourselves, but as long as we stayed within earshot and made it back before the streetlights came on, they probably figured it was safer than us being across town galavanting unsupervised. 

It was me, Lacey, Devin, Mikey and Michelle. We were all best friends - pretty much inseparable, except the boys weren’t invited to the girls’ sleepovers and vise versa. Everyday after school, we’d get dropped off by the bus at the very beginning of our road, and it was a running joke between the Rain Street Gang (as we liked to call ourselves) for all of us to try and run off the bus as quickly as possible, while me, Lacey and Devin would all yell in unison ‘Last two home are some rotten eggs!!’, as Mikey and Michelle tried to push past us to get a head start. The aforementioned two were siblings, and lived in the very last house on our row right next to the woods, so they’d always get home last, regardless of their efforts. Although, the year that Mikey got a pair of Heelys for Christmas he finally got his edge over the rest of us, leaving Michelle to be the lone “rotten egg” until the next summer when one of his wheels broke off. The whole point of it all was just to get home and get our chores and homework done as fast as possible, so we could meet up at Mikey and Michelle’s house with enough daylight left to make our trek into the woods and back - together as a group. All five of us had made a pact to never visit the clubhouse without all members present, although us girls always had a sneaking suspicion that the boys thought themselves exempt from that rule. They, after all, were the ones that had discovered the spot in the first place, and not to mention, did most of the physical labor of dragging our provisions out there. Me and Lacey initially only heard about the spot a day after the boys found it; Michelle had walked into Mikey’s room in the middle of him and Devin talking about it, and immediately relayed the message to us. Michelle wasn’t necessarily more loyal to the girls than the boys, she was just the youngest among us and honestly couldn’t resist blurting out any mildly relevant information she thought she might have, in an effort to be included. But in that regard, if the boys had ever gone out there on their own, they would’ve had to be extremely sneaky about it, because Michelle’s number one objective in life was to gather any piece of intel she could. It was a seemingly normal Saturday morning when we learned our suspicions about the boys may have been warranted.
I had slept over at Lacey’s house the night before. We had just woken up and were still sitting on her bed discussing our possible plans for the day, when Michelle busted through the door with a look on her face that immediately told us she had finally gotten a hold of some juicy information, before she could even open her mouth to stutter out, “You-you-you guyssss, guess w-w-what!?!” Lacey gestured the nail file that was in her hand toward her, raising her eyebrows bluntly as Michelle tried to catch her breath. “So… Devin came to sleep over last night, annnnnd I was pretending to go to the bathroom so I could spy on them. Seeeeee, I was supposed to be sleeping but I -“ “Ughh come on Michelle, get to it! What’d you hear?” Lacey snapped “Ughh okay okay. So, I heard the boys talking, anddddd…. they’re planning to go explore the old mine today!!” “Alright Michelle! Good spying!” I chuckled, trying to encourage her after Lacey’s impatience. Lacey rolls her eyes, then immediately stands up. She takes the scrunchie off her wrist, ties her long blonde hair into a messy bun, and simply said, “Let’s go.” “Lacey..” I said “What??” She responds as if she hadn’t registered the tone of my voice at all. As I opened my mouth to begin explaining all the logical and practical reasons why even if the boys were stupid enough to go play around somewhere dangerous, we shouldn’t be, Michelle exclaims, “That’s where the Locust Man lives!!” I close my mouth in defeat, as I know Lacey will take this nonsense as a challenge, and because of that, no amount of my warnings concerning actual dangers would have any effect on her decision. Lacey dismisses her comment as she attempts to shove her foot into one of her new pink sneakers that she refuses to admit are too small for her. “Pshhh, don’t be such a baby Michelle, he’s not real, you do know that right?” Michelle crinkled her face and yelled back, “Yes he is Lacey! He is!! And th-th- that’s where he lives, and he eats kids that go there!” Lacey laughs at her and says “Oh yeah? You still believe in Santa clause too? What about the tooth fairy?” Michelle looked down at her shoes, and although she could admittedly be annoying, I found myself feeling bad for her. “Come on Lacey, she’s just scared.” Lacey shot me a look like she was expecting me to burst into laughter, but I just gave her a smirk and a shrug, and she rolled her eyes and said “Get dressed.”

 We walked in silence toward the end of the road, though the reasons for all three differed drastically. Lacey’s was determination and resolve, mine was comtemptousness and defeat, and Michelle’s was just fear. I found myself half-way hoping the boys had left already, but as we approached the driveway we caught them just as they were about to step off the porch. 

“Hey!!” Lacey yelled, in her trademark cheerleader cadence. “Where do you boys think you’re going without us?”. Mikey let a groan and rolled his eyes, while Devin said through a coy smile, “Well, we were actually just heading out to go to find you girls.” “Liar.” Lacey snapped, quickly wiping the grin off Devin’s face. “Michelle already blabbed- we know where you two are going and we’re coming too.” The boys looked at each other, then Mikey shot Michelle an angry look as she tried to shrink herself behind me, and said, “Fine, whatever, but no cry baby snitches allowed!!” Michelle then proceeded to prove both of his accusations correct by yelling back, “I am not a cry baby!! I’m telling mom if you don’t let me come with you!!” At that point I finally spoke up. “Alright, listen.” I said sternly, then once I had their attention I lowered my voice a bit to say, “Just for the record, I think us going to that grody old mine is a dumb idea and a big waste of time, but if one of us goes, we all go. That’s the deal, so make your decisions.” Lacey folded her arms in solidarity beside me, and with that we all had an unspoken understanding. So, with the boys out ahead leading the way, we headed toward the tree line.

 As we entered the woods, I felt a sense of dread wash over me - but to be fair, as a preteen emo kid who had already reached an adult level of cynicism, I felt a certain level of dread towards almost everything in life. So take my premonition with a grain of salt, but for some reason, this felt… different. I remember the woods being abnormally quiet that day. It took some time for me to even notice, but as soon as I did, I interrupted the mindless chatter going on to say, 

“Where are all the freakin’ birds?” Everyone turned to look at me as if I’d completely lost my mind. “Uhhh… What are you talking about?” Devin asked me. I pointed up toward the treetops. “Listen…. ” They all looked up, then looked around at each other in confusion. “Every time we’ve ever been in these woods, there’s always birds chirping back and forth. We’ve been walking almost 5 minutes now and I haven’t heard a single bird, have you guys?” “Damn, yeah, that is weird.” Mikey agreed. “They probably all just migrated!!” Devin goofily offered. “That’s stupid Devin, it’s spring. If anything, there should be more birds here, not less you moron.” Lacie argued. Devin flipped Lacie off, which was the best rebuttal he could usually come up with, and then turned toward me and said, “Okay whatever, what’s your point exactly?” “Just that - “ I looked over to Mikey, then back at Devin. “It’s weird.” I didn’t want to say what I was actually thinking. That the woods being too quiet was never a good thing. That when birds aren’t chirping, it could mean there’s a predator nearby. Besides, I was pretty confident that the boys, having both been in the scouts, knew what I knew, so saying it out loud would only serve to annoy Lacie and further frighten Michelle. Mikey broke his gaze that had been fixed on me, and while scanning our surroundings he said, “Let’s stop by the clubhouse on the way.” With a nod from me, we continued. When we arrived at our pit stop, Lacey hobbled over to the closest lawn chair and plopped herself down in it. “Ughhh, my feet are killing me!!” “I wonder why.” I mutter under my breath. “Excuse me, what was that?” “Just saying. Those shoes are gonna be the death of you Lace, you can barely walk in them.” “Pshhh, shut up. They just need to be broken-in okay? You’re just jealous cuz you’re still wearing your dirty old Vans from last year.” “Oooh yeah, you got me there. I am so sad I don’t have a pair of ugly pink Sketchers that don’t fit me.” She stuck her tongue out at me and we both laughed. I was just about the only person who could go toe to toe with Lacey’s sass. It’s part of the reason we ended up being best friends, besides being neighbors. In regard to style, personality and interests, we were almost polar opposites. But when it came to humor we were equals. And more importantly, we both had a mutual understanding when it came to our differences- I was me and she was her, and neither of us felt the need to try and make the other one be more like us. Besides, I was the only person who had ever really stood up to Lacey and didn’t take any of her crap, so I think she respected that. While that exchange had been going on, Michelle had started picking tiny pink flowers, and the boys were rummaging in the clubhouse for something. I yelled in their direction, “Hey! Big Mike and Dirty D!!” Me and Lacey giggled and she mouthed the word “big” with air quotation marks. They didn’t respond, so I walked over to the entryway and looked in. They were standing with their backs to me while looking down at an open metal box, and Mikey was reaching to grab whatever was in it. As he stood back up, I could see what it was. “What the fuck Mikey, seriously?” Hearing me cuss, Lacey and Michelle crowded in behind me. “Chill, it’s just a BB gun.” “I know it’s a BB gun Michael, what are you doing with it, and why is it here?” I was livid at the thought that he might be coming out here and shooting at animals just to be a shithead. I expected something like that from a goober like Devin, but not Mikey. Michelle butted in, “I’m telling mom!!!” “Nice try, dad knows I have it.” He looked at me and softened his tone. “It’s for protection, just in case we come across a black bear, or some weirdo creep out here. Seriously… it’s just to scare off something, not hurt it.” He knew how I felt about killing animals, especially for no good reason. A lot of people out here are poor and hunt for food, which I could accept as a reality. But hurting animals just for fun is psycho behavior, so I was relieved to hear him dispel my fear; I really didn’t want to have to hate him. “Do you even know how to shoot that thing?” Lacey asked. “Yeah, my dad showed me.” Devin clapped his hands together, making us all jump and himself laugh. “Well alright then, let’s get going!” I turned to Michelle, still holding the flowers. “You okay?” She nodded. “If you want me to walk back with you, I can.” I was slightly hoping she’d say yes so I’d have an excuse to get out of this excursion, but she just shook her head and forced a smile. I knew she was scared, but she was just too curious. Maybe I was too.

 We walked for what felt like half an hour. The trees had gotten more dense and the path narrowed from the overgrowth. Still no birdsong. I kept scanning the area in search of any sign of life other than us. Looking for movement of creatures scurrying away, listening for the sound of rustling as we passed, hoping for a squirrel, a lizard, even a bug. Nothing. 

“How much further is this damn thing?” Lacey groaned. Mikey answered without even turning around. “We should be coming up on it any time now.” “You said that like 10 minutes ago.” “Yeah, and now we’re like 10 minutes closer to it. And hey guess what, you insisted on inviting yourself - so suck it up buttercup.” “Hahahaha!” Devin laughed like a maniac at Mikey’s quip, while Lacey folded her arms and for once in her life didn’t have a snappy comeback. This time however, I did. “Well we really only came along to make sure you idiots didn’t kill yourselves.” “Oh, so you girls came out here with us to be our protectors, huh?” Devin laughed. “Ehh, more like babysitters.” Needless to say, I was flipped off for that statement. We rounded the next bend and suddenly all came to an abrupt stop one after another, starting with Mikey. Devin positioned himself beside him and let out a disappointed groan. “Shit Mikey!” A huge tree had fallen and was blocking the trail completely. There was no way we could climb over it because of all the leaves and branches - we’d have to go around it, which meant leaving the safety of the trail and crossing Rain Creek twice to get back to it. “Seriously???” Lacey exclaimed. “Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t be going.” I shrugged. Mikey didn’t seem fazed by the obstruction at all. In fact, he seemed more confident. More calm. More sure of his intended mission. “It’s fine, we’ll just go around.” Michelle, who had been mostly quiet this whole time, finally broke her fear induced silence. “We are NOT supposed to leave the tr-tr-trail Michael! We could get lost!” “We aren’t gonna get lost Michelle, I have a compass. Plus, it’s literally just a few paces that way, then we cross the creek and circle back once we pass the tree and we’re right back on the trail.” “Oh you have got to be kidding me” Lacey said, “I’m not treading through that nasty water!” “Yeah Mikey, what about Lacey’s brand new shoes??” I laughed, and she playfully slapped me in the arm. Mikey’s patience was wearing thin with us. “Look, we already walked this far - if we turn back now, we’ve wasted the whole day for nothing. If you girls wanna be lame and turn around, then go for it - but me and Dev are going.” That’s all Lacey needed. A challenge to accept; someone to prove wrong. “I’ll show you lame.” She pushed past the boys and lead the way into the thick brush towards Rain Creek. It wasn’t very wide across, and there were lots of fallen limbs and large rocks spread throughout it. The current was barely that of a trickle, and the depth was no more than knee deep for us. It was definitely doable - just an inconvenience. And of course, one more ominous obstacle lying directly in our path. Another hint from the universe telling us to turn around. We didn’t listen. Lacey placed one foot on the closest limb and pushed down a few times to test its sturdiness. “I got this.” She stepped out onto it with both feet, then shimmied sideways until she was close enough to the large exposed rock in the middle of the creek, and hopped onto it. She turned around with a full grin and said, “Coming?” Mikey made his way across the limb as Lacey hopped onto a different limb which led her to the other side of the creek. Devin followed, then me, and then it was Michelle’s turn. “I’m scared to fall in!” Of course she is, I should have made her go before me. “It’s okay Michelle, it’s easy!” I reassured her. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Come on Chelle, we’re leaving you!” Mikey yelled, already walking away. “Nooo!! I’m coming! Wait!” She made it across, but instead of just walking like everyone else did, she got down on her hands and knees and gripped the limb as if it were the only thing in between her and a 50 foot drop to the ground, which was funny to see but prolonged the whole process further. After all, we were about to have to do all of this again. Next go round went a lot smoother. The creek was more shallow here, and there were a whole lot more stepping rocks and debris built up. Having just crossed successfully a few minutes ago, we were all more confident in our abilities, including Michelle - who this time we made go first. “Just walk across like it’s a bridge! You got this!!”, we all cheered for her, and then clapped when she made it to the other side. Before we knew it we were back on the trail, and it wasn’t long after that we finally arrived at our intended destination.

 We all stopped and stared at it for a minute, carefully examining the dilapidated exterior of the place that had brought both prosperity and destruction upon our town. Mikey bent down, picked up a rock and threw it into the entrance. We heard it bounce a few times before it stopped. 

“Just to make sure nothing’s in there.” he turned around to clarify. “Did anyone think to bring a flashlight?” I asked. “It’s dark as hell in there.” I was hoping for just one more reason not to go. Devin reached into his cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a small keychain-sized flashlight, smiling with the satisfaction of finally being useful. “Okay, Mikey’ll hold the gun, I’ll shine the light and you girls follow behind us. Let’s go.” Mikey shifted the BB gun from its position of resting on his shoulder, to holding the barrel in his left hand and the butt in his right; trying his best to emulate a soldier’s stance. Something his dad had taught him I’m sure. We ducked down a bit to enter. “How far in we going?” Lacey asked. “Until we see something cool.” Mikey answered. I turned around to check on Michelle, still hovering in the doorway. “You coming?” I could see in her eyes that fear had finally gotten the better of her, and curiosity had taken a backseat. With wide eyes she shook her head. “The-the Locust Man lives in there.”, she tried to whisper. “I knew you were gonna be a baby about this!” Mikey yelled. I crouched down and put my hand on her shoulder. Against my better judgment, I say “How bout you just wait here for us and pick some more flowers. We won’t be long, there’s nothing in there, I promise. Just.. don’t move from this spot and we’ll be right back, okay?” I could feel her unease, but she seemed to accept my reassurance nonetheless. “Okay.” I smiled, then stood up and looked down at my watch to check the time. 12:46 PM. I turned and headed into the darkness, trying to catch up with everyone else. I didn’t feel good about leaving Michelle, but I didn’t feel good about letting the rest of them go in there alone either. And if I’m being honest, maybe a little part of me wanted to see what was in there too. When I caught up to Lacey she asked, “Where’s Michelle?” “Stayed behind at the entrance, she was too scared. I told her to pick flowers and wait there for us.” “Pshh, figures.” “Yeah. How’s your feet?” “At this point, numb actually.” It was so dark in there that even Devin’s rinky dink flashlight was illuminating the area enough for me to start taking a closer look at my surroundings. I looked around at the rock walls, they were covered in what looked like orange mold and green algae. There was a slight breeze coming in from the entrance, but the whole place just had a staleness to it. The boys stopped and turned around as we arrived at the first curve. “So ladies, what do you think? Cool huh?” Devin asked excitedly. “Smells like a fart in here.” I said.

 The most dangerous thing about exploring an old mine wasn’t getting lost in the maze of tunnels, or tripping on the rusted tracks and slamming your head against the wall - it was something simply referred to as bad air. Pockets of still air that have dangerously low levels of oxygen, the old men in town would call it “black damp”. There was also something produced from the old chemicals they once used called “stink damp”, which smelled like rotten eggs. Both were lethal. 

“I wonder if there’s dead bodies in here!” “Uh, Dev… we’re gonna be the dead bodies in here if we go in too far. I wasn’t just making a joke, you know that rotten egg smell can mean bad air.” Mikey interjected. “The entrance isn’t far behind us, there’s still enough fresh air coming in. We won’t go in too far, let’s just get to the end of this tunnel where it splits off and look around a bit, then we’ll turn around.” The fork in the tunnel really wasn’t that much further, and even though I knew once we rounded this curve I wouldn’t be able to see the entrance behind me anymore, I decided what the hell. Maybe a hundred more steps, then we can finally turn around and this whole dumb situation would be closer to being over with. When we got there, we looked down the length of the connecting tunnels each way. Everything looked unusually identical in its deterioration. I could see how someone could easily get disoriented and lost down here. “Hellooooo…” Mikey yelled to the left, his voice echoing through the corridor. Devin turned to the opposite direction and called out, “Hey yo, Locust Man!! You in here?” We all giggled, which made me think about Michelle, still waiting at the entrance for us, alone in the woods. I looked down at my watch. 12:46 PM. “Hey what the f-“ My cuss word was interrupted by a loud bang that came from the passageway Devin had just been hollering into. We all froze. I didn’t have time to process that my watch had stopped right as we entered the tunnel, or that Michelle had been left alone for who knows how long now, or that we had just heard what sounded like a support beam crashing to the ground, because next came a horrifying screeching buzzing sound. It sounded distant at first, but was quickly increasing in volume. We silently looked around at each other and backed away stunned at what we were hearing. Mikey never took his eyes off the tunnel though, and slowly he began to raise the BB gun to firing position. Without even thinking, I grabbed the barrel and pushed it downward. He quickly tore his eyes away from his target to look at me. I shook my head and managed to barely choke out the word, “Explosion.” He nodded and I let go. I looked down at the gun in his hands, and seeing his finger had already been on the trigger, I realized how lucky it was that I didn’t make him shoot himself in the foot. All of a sudden, the noise stopped. “What the hell was that?” Lacey asked. “I don’t know, nothing good.” I said. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here before this whole place caves in on us or something.” Another loud bang erupted from the right, extremely close to us. “Shit!!!” We all turned around and ran as fast as we could back toward the entrance. Devin tried to push past me, but as he did my elbow knocked the flashlight out of his hand. “My flashlight!!!” “Leave it!” Mikey shouted “The turn is right here, we won’t need it!” We rounded the corner, and using what little light there was illuminating from the entrance to guide us back, we ran like our lives depended on it. And they may have- none of us dared to look back, not like we would have been able to see anything anyway. When we finally made it out, we were all completely out of breath. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have to admit though, once we had made it back to safety I felt a rush of adrenaline like I had just had a near death experience. That feeling quickly faded into sheer panic when I looked around and realized Michelle was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, where’s Michelle?” Mikey asked me. “I told her to stay right here, she can’t be very far… Michelle!!!!” We all called her name, as loud as we could. No answer, no sign of her anywhere. “Alright look, she probably went off a little further looking for flowers to pick.” I tried to rationalize. “Let’s just split off in 4 directions and walk in a straight line while calling for her. She’s bound to hear one of us.” Everyone agreed, and even though I appeared outwardly as the level-headed calm person you need to take control in an emergency, inside I was petrified that something had happened to her, and that it would be my fault. I took the east, and headed out. It didn’t take too long before I passed a large tree and saw her sitting down behind it, looking at something on the ground. “Michelle! Oh thank god!! Didn’t you hear us calling for you??” She didn’t answer me, or even turn around. “Michelle, didn’t I tell you to stay by the entrance and not move?!?” My relief was quickly turning into annoyance as she continued to ignore me. I walked up closer to see what she was looking at, and my mouth dropped in awe of what she had found. It was a single white trillium.

 They say it takes 8 years for a trillium plant to produce a flower, and conditions have to be just right for it to bloom. That’s what makes them so special and rare. I stared down at it almost in a trance, like I was seeing a mythical creature. Michelle slowly reached out her hand towards it and I snapped out of it. 

“No!!” I grabbed her by the arm and she finally turned around to look at me. “If you pick the flower, the plant will die.” She ripped her arm away from my grasp and whined, “But I want to show my mom!” We heard Mikey calling from the north and I cupped my hands over my mouth to yell back, “I found her, she’s over here!!” I looked back at her. “No Michelle, come on, you can just tell her about it when we get back home.” I had enough, I was beyond ready to go and we still had at least another 45 minutes of walking to even get back to the clubhouse; an hour if Michelle kept up her crap. I grabbed her arm again and pulled her up to a standing position, looking back at the trillium as I walked her away. Mikey caught up to us, breathless but trying to hide his concern. “You little shit, we should have left you out here! What the hell were you doing?” I let go of her arm and she walked toward Mikey. “She was trying to pick a flower over there.” “It was a trillium!!” Michelle said, with the biggest smile on her face. “Wait, really?” He looked at me in disbelief. Before I could respond, a blood curdling scream echoed through the forest, coming from the west. It was Lacey. My heart dropped into my stomach and once again, every molecule in my body went into full blown panic mode. This time, I couldn’t contain my composure. “Laceyyyyyy!!!!!” A panicked shriek erupted from my lungs and I took off running. Mikey grabbed Michelle and sprinted after us. The trees became a blur; I didn’t even feel all the scratches and scrapes. Had she come across a coyote? A mountain lion? A bear? I didn’t even stop to think about the danger I might be about to come in contact with, I just ran. And then I found her. She was lying on the ground, holding her left foot. “Lacey!!” I said, trying to choke back the tears that were building up. “I think I twisted my ankle!!” “Oh god damn it, you bitch.” I struggled to catch my breath. “I thought you were dead.” “I might as well be, I have cheerleading practice on Monday!” Mikey and Michelle caught up to us. “What happened?” He asked “She’s being a drama queen, she just rolled her ankle.” I was angry. “Can you get up?” He asked her. She was able to stand, but as soon as she tried to put any pressure on her foot at all, she screamed in pain. We spotted Devin running over from the south as he was yelling out, “Hey yo, everyone alive and accounted for?” “Yeah, Lacey hurt her ankle.” Mikey yelled back. As he approached he looked concerned. “Can you walk on it?” He asked her. “No.” Without hesitation he replied, “Well alright then, looks like you’re gonna have to piggyback it all the way back home.” He lowered himself enough to where she could hop up onto his back, and we headed back toward the trail. Even though my nerves had begun to settle a bit, I knew we were still far from being out of the woods, in more ways than one.

9 week old is exclusively breastfed and has yellow and seedy poops but a lot of the time they are mucusy and sometimes thinner. Baby is pooping daily or every other day, does not seem to express any major discomfort. Does spit up much more than my first did, we’re constantly changing her outfits, but it’s not massive projectiles or painful. Basically, none of this seems to concern my ped or any other type of professional we’ve talked to. The only thing that was called into question is the mucus in poop. Anyone experience this and have it be connected to their diet? I’m not trying to eliminate stuff if I don’t have to, but I’m wondering if it is connected and I could improve her stools/spotting up.

Hi,
I am 31 y.o. and have had all sorts of G.I., skin and sleep issues for as long as I can remember. I take high quality probiotics daily (been a few years now). A couple months ago I started developing a thick white coating on my tongue, occasionally yellow or brown. This coincided with my gut, stomach, sleep and skin issue intensifying - I am better now but still the permanent white tongue and occasional dermatitis occur.
One thing to say is that it’s worse in the morning (waking up with super dry mouth and a horrible bitter taste in my mouth with dense saliva). I have tried to use a tongue scraper daily but doesn’t get rid of the coating at all, it stays on my tongue permanently. Been tested for candida (not found via swab), have tried all sorts of rinses and oil pulling, probiotics, scraping, nothing works. So I’m thinking the cause might be rooted somewhere else and It’s not a local issue.
Photos here (NSFW): https://imgur.com/a/gZuzUgH
Any pointers would be a HUGE help, thank you!! Been loosing my mind recently with this…

I have had 3 horrible bouts of illness in 6 months and I’m wondering if it’s actually just asthma and allergy exacerbation. It starts with a dry cough that turns to a wet one with yellow mucus and then when my chest clears it goes into my nose before I feel better. No fevers and my doctor won’t even test for me anything anymore. She’s really not interested in helping me. I think they are tired of me calling and saying I’m sick again but I need a note if I miss more than 3 days and these bouts have lasted me 1-2 weeks each time. They won’t even see me for an appointment anymore. Even the triage nurse told me I need to see a pulmonologist again and I’m not getting sick. Triage nurse said my doctor would call so I can come in and talk about my asthma and get a referral but when they called they said go to urgent care and hope you feel better. Is this really just my asthma getting worse? It’s not even a cold? They keep telling me that I have a lung disease and this is just the reality of it and to feel better soon.
She has me on qvar BID two puffs. Always have a rescue inhaler and nebulizer at home.