For those who don't know what happened in Overlord. One day an undead supreme being named Ainz Ooal Gown appeared and and laid claim to a city within one of the biggest nations in the world, then slaughtered their whole army and announced the founding of the Sorcerer Kingdom.
Following that, the most well-known empire in the world announced that they acknowledged this claim and stated they're friends with the country. That said, Empire later willingly submitted themselves as a vassal state to the Sorcerer Kingdom.
Later the Sorcerer Kingdim declared war on that same nation in which they took the city from, their war was endorsed by 4 different countries which sided with the Sorcerer Kingdom because it was the other nation who instigated it.
This undead king slaughtered the entire civilian population and turned the now fallen kingdom as an example to those who'd want to antagonize the Sorcerer Kingdom.
If all of this happened in Tensura, how would the world react? In this world, Rimuru does exist and has already formed the Octogram, and Tempest is known as the strongest country in the west. What happens next?
As for the powerscaling I imagine that Ainz is weaker than the much stronger characters such as Milim, Guy, the true dragons like Velzard, as well as Rimuru himself but is definitely a character who could stand alongside the Octogram with Nazarick and the Sorcerer Kingdom being a super power nation however not as strong as Tempest of course.
So what happens next? He's a being with all his world class items, which is definitely stronger than characters like Leon and Luminous, with Nazarick being a country stronger than their own
Ainz doesn't pick fights he knows he can't win and at the end of the day his NPC's will listen to his orders so he could definitely prevent the guardians from picking suicidal fights with nations like Tempest in general non hostile nations.
Their armies and forces are actually more powerful than the military of the Empire, but I don't know if any singular entity in Nazarick could take Velgrynd.
Keep in mind that in the Tensura mobile game Ainz and Rimuru became good friends as they could relate to one another and when Albedo arrogantly claimed to Rimuru and Guy that Nazarick could take over the world Ainz cut her off and apologized as he knew that wasn't possible and would like to make friends with the Octogram.
In which Guy chose to let them off without harm, and the following characters, Ainz, Albedo, Shaltear, and Nabe, befriended Rimuru and Shion. Thoughts?

Then was Nebuchadnezzar full of fury, and the form of his visage was changed against Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: therefore he spake, and commanded that they should heat the furnace one seven times more than it was wont to be heated.And he commanded the most mighty men that were in his army to bind Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and to cast them into the burning fiery furnace

I was in ROTC (Army) for a mere 4 months but had to quit because my doctor had me on these horrible pills that made me very very, just absolutely miserable. I cannot emphasise how BAD I felt on those meds. Ironically I started them when I joined and ran out after I quit but still too late in realising it was mainly the meds that impacted me. That was last year, spring 2023
Here and now for the past few days, I’ve had the sudden nagging/urge/whatever to want to try to rejoin. Not ROTC this time but as a regular soldier. And I really really want to. It’s the only thing I’m good at, following instructions. Being told what to do
Long story short, now I have knee problems!
I’m so bummed. I definitely can’t rejoin now. On top of that, my allergies have worsened and I’m technically “oN tHe SpEcTrUm”. Two other factors that are definite disqualifiers for the military, regardless if I have the mildest form of autism. It’s the only thing I’ve come to realise I can actually do. Just simply follow orders (not intended Star Wars ref)
I hate school. The army seemed like a simple task for my simple brain. I know it really isn’t but hopefully you know what I meant. I guess I could put it as it’s straightforward
I’m losing hope. I definitely can’t rejoin the military now because my newly acquired knee issues and my other biological defects. I’m out of options. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where else can I go? What else can I do?

I was in ROTC (Army) for a mere 4 months but had to quit because my doctor had me on these horrible pills that made me very very, just absolutely miserable. I cannot emphasise how BAD I felt on those meds. Ironically I started them when I joined and ran out after I quit but still too late in realising it was mainly the meds that impacted me. That was last year, spring 2023
Here and now for the past few days, I’ve had the sudden nagging/urge/whatever to want to try to rejoin. Not ROTC this time but as a regular soldier. And I really really want to. It’s the only thing I’m good at, following instructions. Being told what to do
I got a major surgery in summer 2023 so I gained back all the weight, plus a bit more, I’ve managed to lose in training and outside activities. Which is frustrating because I was expecting to lose more weight from the surgery. I just have shit genetics. It has always been very difficult for me to have a healthy body. When I healed, I kinda went lazy on physical activity. My exercise was being cautious about the surgery sight. I was paranoid I’d fuck up and rip something open even though the doctor said I could start doing light exercise
I’ve been trying to get my shit together no matter how demotivating my body type is. I’ve started running but then…my knees. At first I thought it was just because I’ve been out for so long, it’ll go away. But the pain persisted for the next 1.5 weeks and it was decided that I’d take it down to just walking. My knees still hurt to the point that even walking has become a minor challenge
I’m so bummed. I definitely can’t rejoin now. On top of that, my allergies have worsened and I’m technically “oN tHe SpEcTrUm”. Two other factors that are definite disqualifiers for the military, regardless if I have the mildest form of autism. It’s the only thing I’ve come to realise I can actually do. Just simply follow orders (not intended Star Wars ref)
I hate school. Even though I finally found something I decently enjoy, animation, I still hate it. I’ve been struggling because of the forced creativity. I’m now beyond art block. I’m just devoid of ideas. I’m empty. The army seemed like a simple task for my simple brain. I know in reality it isn’t but hopefully you know what I meant. I guess I could put it as it’s straightforward
I’m losing hope. I’m just pushing through these last bits of school even though I’ve probably delayed my graduation at least another 3 years (I’m going on my 3rd year). I’m so tired of this. My mom is forcing me to get a damn bachelor’s degree. Move out? Oh how I’d love too but she’s carefully raised me to rely on her. She’s taught me nothing. As much as I’m trying to figure things out on my own time, it’s so hard because of how she made me turn out. I still wouldn’t last out there. When, or if, I do finally graduate, I wouldn’t know where to go next. I don’t want to do school but all I’ve known is school because US system go brrr
I definitely can’t rejoin the military now because my newly acquired knee issues and my other biological defects. I’m out of options. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where else could I go? What else could I do? I don’t fucking know!

I was in ROTC (Army) for a mere 4 months but had to quit because my doctor had me on these horrible pills that made me very very, just absolutely miserable. I cannot emphasise how BAD I felt on those meds. Ironically I started them when I joined and ran out after I quit but still too late in realising it was mainly the meds that impacted me. That was last year, spring 2023
Here and now for the past few days, I’ve had the sudden nagging/urge/whatever to want to try to rejoin. Not ROTC this time but as a regular soldier. And I really really want to. It’s the only thing I’m good at, following instructions. Being told what to do
I got a major surgery in summer 2023 so I gained back all the weight, plus a bit more, I’ve managed to lose in training and outside activities. Which is frustrating because I was expecting to lose more weight from the surgery. I just have shit genetics. It has always been very difficult for me to have a healthy body. When I healed, I kinda went lazy on physical activity. My exercise was being cautious about the surgery sight. I was paranoid I’d fuck up and rip something open even though the doctor said I could start doing light exercise
I’ve been trying to get my shit together no matter how demotivating my body type is. I’ve started running but then…my knees. At first I thought it was just because I’ve been out for so long, it’ll go away. But the pain persisted for the next 1.5 weeks and it was decided that I’d take it down to just walking. My knees still hurt to the point that even walking has become a minor challenge
I’m so bummed. I definitely can’t rejoin now. On top of that, my allergies have worsened and I’m technically “oN tHe SpEcTrUm”. Two other factors that are definite disqualifiers for the military, regardless if I have the mildest form of autism. It’s the only thing I’ve come to realise I can actually do. Just simply follow orders (not intended Star Wars ref)
I hate school. Even though I finally found something I decently enjoy, animation, I still hate it. I’ve been struggling because of the forced creativity. I’m now beyond art block. I’m just devoid of ideas. I’m empty. The army seemed like a simple task for my simple brain. I know in reality it isn’t but hopefully you know what I meant. I guess I could put it as it’s straightforward
I’m losing hope. I’m just pushing through these last bits of school even though I’ve probably delayed my graduation at least another 3 years (I’m going on my 3rd year). I’m so tired of this. My mom is forcing me to get a damn bachelor’s degree. Move out? Oh how I’d love too but she’s carefully raised me to rely on her. She’s taught me nothing. As much as I’m trying to figure things out on my own time, it’s so hard because of how she made me turn out. I still wouldn’t last out there. When, or if, I do finally graduate, I wouldn’t know where to go next. I don’t want to do school but all I’ve known is school because US system go brrr
I definitely can’t rejoin the military now because my newly acquired knee issues and my other biological defects. I’m out of options. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where else can I go? What else can I do?

Act 1 Scene 1
Int. Edd's Apartment Room - Bedroom - Morning
Edd (In sleep bed) SNORE, SNORE, SNORE- (EDD’S face is sprayed with Cola) I SUREDDER! (Looks around room) Oh.
(Cut to) Edd Int. Edd's Apartment room - Closet - Morning (Edd Choses which Hoodie to wear) [Hoodies references to different Hoodie designs] (Picks his Modern Hoodie design)
(Cut to) Int. Edd's Apartment Room - Bathroom Edd (Grabs toothbrush) (Zooms in to show that's it’s Cola flavored) (Brushes teeth) (Grabs cup of Cola) (Gurgles it) (Spits it out) (Makes a big wide smile showing his horrible teeth)
(Cut to) Edd Int. Edd's Apartment Room - Kitchen - Morning (Edd takes bacon in a Oven) (Puts it on a plate) (Edd sits at his table) (Holds up fork and spoon and licks his lips before shoving the entire plate into his mouth) NOM, NOM, NOM MM! The plate is always the best part! Act 1 Scene 2
(Transition to) Int. Edd's Apartment Room - Living Room - Morning Edd (Sits on couch) Ah.. it is a good day to watch Return of the Insane Zombeh Pirates from Hell 4! SLAM (The door goes as MATT and TOM come in)
Matt (Overlapping Tom) BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH I FOUND THIS GUY AND HE SOLD ME CRACK SO I GAVE IT TO A TWO YEAR OLD THEN IT STARTED TO-
Tom (Overlapping Matt) BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH I PULLED AND PULLED BUT IT WOULDN'T COME OUT, SO I GOT A PLANT AND STARTED SAYING NEVER GONNA GIVE-
Edd SHUT UP! (Matt and Tom look at each other) What is it…
Matt He broke mirror #1028!
Tom Nuh Uh!
Edd (Sigh) Tom, did you break the mirror?
Tom No!
Matt Liar, Liar, Dance on Pliers!
Tom (re: notice) Uh, Edd I found this by your door. (Hands to Edd)
Edd (Grabs) Blah, Blah, Blah. Your landlord will require possession of your apartment in 16 days, if rent is not paid! Oh no, I can't afford to paid rent!
Tom Don't worry- well actually do worry bc we all got it.
Matt Can't we mooch off of that crackhead down the street again?
Tom I’ve run out of crack to give to him, and I don't got enough to buy any either.
Edd Can't we get a job?
Tom Don’t you remember what happened last time we got a job!
Edd Oh yeah, we got fired for “immaturity, and irresponsible” or whatever bogus they said.
Matt We’re perfectly mature! They have to have a screw loose!
Tom One time I agree with you Matt. Right Edd… Edd?
Edd (Face plants onto couch) It’s hopeless…
Tom Come on Edd, things could be better!
Edd Do you mean worse?
Tom No, I meant better.
Matt Yeah, you could be friends with a stupid, narcissist and an unsupportive, alcoholic.
Edd (Annoyed, or disappointed face) Well… I guess- TOM WHAT ARE YOU DOING!
Tom (Standing on a chair with a hanging rope hanging from the ceiling fan) Who’s going second bc I'm going first.
Edd Tom, we promised to commit suicide when we get kids!
Tom Oh yeah.
Edd Tom, do you remember that safe in our old house?
Tom Yeah, the one that we left behind when it got destroyed?
Edd Yeah, that one. I was thinking we could go back and break into it. There’s bound to be some cash left in there.
Matt But what if the cops catch us?
Tom Relax, Matt. We’ll make sure no one sees us.
Edd We’ll go at night and make sure to cover our tracks.
Edd But we have no mask- (Tom, Matt are suddenly in Goofy Villain outfit) Edd Where did you even get those
Matt Dumpster!
Edd There's no way I'm wearing one of those! Act 1 Scene 3
(Cuts To) Ext. Old House - Backyard
The three friends stand in the backyard, wearing their goofy villain outfits, as Edd adjusts his costume with annoyance.
Edd (Cont'D) "This is ridiculous. I can't believe you two made me wear this."
Matt (Excitedly) "You look great! We're like the Three Stooges of crime!"
Tom (Grinning) "Yeah, but instead of just being fools, we're gonna be rich fools!”
Edd Matt did you cover our tracks?
Matt Yeah, look. (Shows an path of purple path leading right up to their location)
Tom Matt you know when I said I hated you?
Matt Yeah?
Tom I DIDN'T LIE!
Matt Aw...
Edd "Alright, let's just get this over with. We break into the safe, grab the cash, and get out. Simple enough."
Tom (Cocky) "Piece of cake, guys. We're professional criminals now."
Matt (Excitedly) "We're going to be rich!"
(The friends approach the safe and begin trying to open it.)
Edd Uh, does anyone remember the code?
Tom Not me!
Edd Matt?
(Camera pans to Matt admiring a picture of himself)
Matt I thought I lost you forever baby (Matt says as kissing it)
Edd
Tom(drunk) My idea is to blow up an orphanage!
Edd How do you get drunk off of Smirnoff in 4 seconds!?
Tom(drunk) Idk ask the unicorn in the sky!
Edd (Sigh) I'm going home.
As Edd turns to leave, Tom comes to his senses.
Tom "Guys, hang on. What if we try a brute force attack? Like, really give it a good ol' college try?"
Edd (Sarcastically) “Oh yes, because that's so much better than blowing up an orphanage.”
Tom (Ignoring the comment) “Just hear me out. We all know that safes have a maximum number of combination attempts before they lock us out. So, what if we just brute force it?”Edd But what brute force would... (Edd's eyes spark up with an idea, and a devious smile form's on his face)
Tom So... what's the idea?
Edd (Raises his eyebrows)
Tom I don't speak eyebrows?
Matt (Raises eyebrows)
Tom What!?
Edd (Overlapping Matt) THROW TOM!
Matt (Overlapping Edd) THROW TOM!
Tom Did I ever tell yall I HATE ALL OF YOU!As Matt and Edd start shoving Tom towards the safe, he starts resisting and shouting obscenities at them.
Tom (Yelling) "What the hell is wrong with you guys?! I'm not a goddamn battering ram!"
Matt (Laughing) "Oh come on, it'll be fine! What's the worst that could happen?"
Edd (Shoving Tom) "Just go with it, Tom. You'll thank us later."
Tom (Reluctantly) "Fine, but if I break anything, I'm suing you two.”(Edd and Matt lift Tom over their head and chuck him head first into the safe making a extremely loud smash)
Edd See Tom, that wasn't so bad!
Tom I think broke one of my hair bones
Matt Is it open?
Edd Nope. It's dented tho!Edd Still dented.
Matt Again-
(The gang hear police sirens)
Matt OH NO I'M TOO PRETTY TO GO TO JAIL!
(The police pull up and get out of the cop car with gun)
Cop 1 PUT YOUR HANDS UP!
(The entire gang puts their hands up with a ton of Matt's pictures falling out of his clothes)
(The police officers look confused as they witness the sight in front of them.*)
Officer 1 (Perplexed) “What the hell happened here?”
Matt (Innocently) “We were just trying to break into a safe. No big deal.” Act 1 Scene 4 Int. Cop Car - Midnight
Tom (Drowsy) “Why do my eyelids feel like heavy rocks…?”
Matt (Looking confused) “Hey, does anyone else smell pickles?”
Edd (Snickering) I knew I shouldn't have put on pickle deodorant!
Cop 1 (Driving) “Quiet, back there!”
Edd (Mumbling) Sorry Angry Mcgee!
Matt (Whisper) Pss, Edd!
Edd What?
Matt Get this! (Quickly throws a picture to Edd with his mouth)
Edd What is- Holy S**t I thought I lost this forever!
Camera pans down to show Edd, Matt, and Tom when they first moved in, including a old friend named Tord)*As the camera pans down to the picture, we see a glimpse of a time long ago. Three friends – Edd, Matt, and Tom – are laughing and smiling, with a fourth boy, Tord, standing beside them. They're holding balloons and standing in front of a house they recently moved into. Act 1 Scene 5
(Transition to) Jail - Cell - Midnight
Edd TOM! I'M DYING HELP ME!
Edd is dramatically lying on his back, holding an empty Cola can, pretending to have a heart attack. Meanwhile, Tom is sitting on a bunk bed and rolls his eyes.
Tom (Sarcastically) “Oh, yes, because your Cola addiction is definitely the biggest concern here. Not us being thrown in jail overnight.”
Edd OH WOE IS ME!
Edd writhes around on the bed in despair, while Tom just sits there, clearly agitated by Edd's melodrama.
Tom "Edd, you've been going on about your cola running out for hours now. Can you give it a rest, please?"
Edd (Frantically) "You don't understand, Tom! My cola was my life! How am I supposed to survive here without it?"
Tom (Tired) "Perhaps you should try sleeping or something?”Matt Uh, guys why is there a dude in helicopter trying to shoot us with a bazooka?
Edd (Sarcastically) Well thats just great.
(The group is flung back as the cell window is blasted open)
The man with the bazooka comes through the smoke.
Paul Hello, uh sorry I don't know your names. The Red Leader only refers people as code names.
Tom The Red who?
Matt My name is the beautiful Matt-
Edd covers Matt's mouth
Edd Don't tell him your name idiot!
Paul My name is Paul.
Camera Pans to Matt
Matt Why are your eyebrows 20 feet tall?
Camera Pans back to Paul
Paul They aren't even that big are you blind!?
Camera Pans back to Matt
Matt suddenly wearing blind glasses
Matt Yes
Patryk Hi my name is Patryk-
Paul PATRYK YOUR FLYING THE HELICOPTER!
Patryk Oh.
We hear a Helicopter explosion from outside. Paul and Patryk look down from the exposed cell wall, showing the burning half-destroyed Helicopter.
Patryk Don't worry I'll fix those scratches!
Paul Whatever.
Edd So, are you here to save us?
Paul Nah, we're gonna capture you!
Edd Aw, Bugger
Paul pulls out a "Super cool taser gun" as the label on the taser gun says.
Tom Lame.
(Tom is shocked and knocked out by the taser gun)
(The group watches in shock as Tom goes down from the taser-gun.)
Matt (Panicking) "Oh no, Tom! Edd, do something!!"
Edd (In shock) "What can I do? There's two nut jobs with a taser gun and an assault rifle who are trying to capture us!"
Paul (Casually) "Don't worry, if you don't resist, you'll be safe. The Red Leader just wants you guys for a special project.”
Edd Whatever.
Edd blacks out
(Cut to) Helicopter - Backseat - Morning
Edd wakes up
Edd (Distraught) Ow my head hurts!
Tom (Confused) What happened?
Edd (Deep Voice) Hey Babe.
Tom (Angry) Wtf Edd!
Matt is making muffled sounds because of a mask on his face that says "Beware ugly fish monster behind mask." Edd takes the mask off of Matt.
Edd (Disturbed) EW, the mask was right!
Matt (Angry) Hey!
Paul So you finally woke up!
Matt Uh, yeah
Edd This reminds me of when I flew a Helicopter when I was in the Uk Army!
Paul (Confused) You were in the army!?
Matt We all were can't you tell just by looking at us!
Camera pans to show all of the three boys looking exaggeratedly more stupid than usual.
Paul No.
The three friends look at each other in annoyance, feeling belittled by Paul's remark. Tom speaks up.
Tom (Sarcastically) "Oh wow, thanks for the compliment. Nice to know we look like a bunch of army rejects."
Matt (Defensively) "Excuse me, we are actually highly trained and intelligent individuals... in our own special way.”
Tom (Sarcastically) At least two of us are!
Tom and Edd high-five. Matt not realizing that they are inferring that he's the stupid one, keeps a smile on his face
Edd (Amused) Wait didn't your Helicopter crash like a few hours ago?
Patryk (Proudly) This is my 857th Helicopter!
Edd's Amused face goes to worried.
Edd (Unsettled) “Oh boy, this is going to be one bumpy ride…”
Edd At least we're away from the HELI-COP-TER
Everyone looks at Edd because of the horrible pun.
Tom So, where are we going?
Paul To the "SUPER EVIL EDGY VILLAINOUS BASE!"
The camera zooms out of the Helicopter to show that the place is actually called "SUPER EVIL EDGY VILLAINOUS BASE!"
Edd Well that's just silly.

Previous Part
By the time I’d woke up bright and early at 4 A.M., Rocco had amassed an impressive pile of pilfered food in the corner of the tepee. He was just dragging in a turkey leg when I saw him, must’ve been at it all night form the looks of it.
“Rocco, what the hell!”
I shouted, waving my hands at the pile of food he’d brought in.
“I told you to stay out of trouble, lay low. This is… not that!”
I complained, trying to think of how I’d talk my way out of this if anyone asked about the missing food. Rocco simply responded by shrugging, turning around, and diving face first into the mountain of food. I was annoyed at the moment but then I got to thinking. If Rocco stole all that and no one saw him what else could he do without being noticed?
“Hey… hey Rocco no-one saw you stealing all this right?”
I asked, grabbing his tail and dragging him out of the food mountain.
“WHATS DA BIG IDEA!”
He protested, flailing around as I held him in the air by his tail before regaining his composure and adding.
“I’m a profesional, of course I didn’t get seen. Why?! Did someone say something!?
Rocco shot his head from side to side, like he would find someone listening or critiquing his heist. All the movement causing him to spin slowly, still dangling from his tail.
“No, I was just thinking, as long as your out here I could have a job for you.”
I said, setting him down as he answered,
“Whad’ya mean? Spit it out!”
with his classic charm.
“I mean, I want you to sneak into that blonde guy’s tepee. The one with the shitty attitude, Brooke I think his name was. Just see if you can find anything in there.”
I could see Rocco’s interest was peaked but he still had one last all to predictable question.
“What’s in it for me?”
“You keep whatever you find in there no questions asked.”
Before the words even left fully my lips Rocco cried, “DEAL” and sprinted out of the tepee on all fours, leaving me alone.
I wasn’t really sure what the process was now, was Shaoni going to come get us or did she expect us to meet her in the coliseum? I’d never been part of anything like this before, I had no idea what the attendance policy was like. So, lacking anything better to do, I walked down into the mines and waited in the coliseum. It was obvious they were’t really ready for us yet. A few of Shaoni’s people were down there placing cactus looking things into five carved wooden bowls on the floor. Five bowls, five people in these trials so those had to have something to do with us. I looked around the room, trying to find Shaoni. She wasn’t up on her perch like yesterday and she certainly wasn’t part of the small group setting up those bowls. I felt a little different about her now that we’d had a chance to talk. Before I’d been afraid of her, and for good reason, but she seemed to want the opposite of that. Maybe not from me specifically but in general. Although, how could you not be scared of someone who could turn into a giant bird and seemed to consistently be the cause of freak storms. There was a lot of power to her but she didn’t want people to be afraid of it, she wanted respect. I’m sure there was more to her that I hadn’t heard but I certainly was going to hear anything new here.
Seeing as I was still apparently early, I decided not to wear out my welcome in the coliseum. I made my way back out of the mines and settled down back at that canvas tent with the huge table. It was again filled with food that had come from nowhere in particular, probably set up by more of Shaoni’s people. As if to confirm my suspicion, the bandaged man Bianca had stabbed earlier emerged from the camp, walking towards me with a platter of bacon. He starred daggers at me as he placed the platter at the table but didn’t say anything. I was almost tempted to apologize on Bianca’s behalf but I got the sense that wouldn’t be a great idea. Not long after I saw two of the others approaching.
“… Sure, but for some glorified tent it’s still pretty comfortable.”
Brooke said to Katrina who looked thoroughly uninterested in what he had to say.
Brooke wore a… purple suit that made him look like some stereotypical version of a pimp. I couldn’t think of any reason he’d wear that out here, at least no-one would mistake him from anyone else, that ’s for sure. Katrina wore an equally confusing getup, a blue tank top and jeans that made her look kinda like the girl from those tomb raider games. It was about 50 degrees out and probably wasn’t going to get much warmer. If she wanted to freeze, so be it. I gave a slight nod to them as they sat down across from me. Katrina still eyeing Brooke with an expression that begged for him not to open his mouth again.
I couldn’t stop staring at her, no not like that, I was staring at her belt where a holster sat,
“You like it?”
She asked, noticing the staring that I should’ve been trying harder to hide, drawing the handgun from the holster on her hip.
“Beretta M9 semi-automatic pistol, my father’s service pistol actually. Always served me well, so I always keep it on me, well almost always.”
She said with a wink, checking the gun and pulling back its slide. I wasn’t all that familiar with guns but I distinctly saw her flip the safety off. Which had a profound effect on my nerves considering I was staring down its barrel.
“They let you keep that around here? I would’ve thought they take that from you.”
I asked incredulously, still eyeing the gun she had pointed at me.
“I hid it on me yesterday, if they have an issue with it they can try and take it from me. I’m not doing anything like this without some kind of insurance. They get me and Luke or nothing at all.”
She retorted, spinning the gun back into her holster and turning the safety back on with a practiced hand. “Oh that’s cute, she named it” I thought sarcastically as my nerves settled, a loaded gun no longer pointed directly at my face.
“I’m not sure Shaoni would let you leave, even if you wanted to.”
“Oh please! She wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me or she’d have bigger problems coming her way.”
Katrina laughed, throwing her hand back in seemingly genuine amusement. She really didn’t have a care about the Thunderbird? I found that hard to believe.
“So what do you do anyways then? If you’re so sure she wouldn’t touch you.”
I asked incredulously. This seemed to grab her attention as she immediately snapped her head down, locking eyes with me and barking,
“That’s a need to know thing and you don’t.”
Before returning her attention to the food on the table and ignoring me. She was military, that was probably a safe assumption.
Brooke had been listening in to our conversation as he ate. After Katrina snapped at me he finally spoke up.
“So hang on, you came all the way out here with no insurance, no protection? Does anyone even know you’re out here?”
I briefly thought about Rocco, he wasn’t great insurance but he sure came cheap. I hadn’t stopped to think about preparing anything to bring out here with me. I just stupidly assumed everyone was on the same page as me, an unprepared fish out of water.
“No, I guess not.”
I responded, a little shaken at the realization that everyone here was probably more prepared than me.
“You must be stupid or have balls of steel to do something like that.”
Brooke told me, reaching over the table to clap me on the shoulder. I didn’t know if this really was the Brooke Bianca told me about or not but I really did not like this guy. We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence. John and Robert never showed up but I guessed they were down in the mines helping set everything up. I guess being a participate in the trials didn’t exempt Shaoni's followers from having to help get ready for them.
Apparently my guess was right because Robert and John were both already in the coliseum when the three of us arrived. Shaoni was once again up on the balcony and all of the people that had been there earlier were gone. I could clearly see what was in the five bowls now. It was some kind of small cactus thing with a white-pink flower at the top. I’d never seen anything like it before but it did seem a little out of place.
“This is your first trial, the trial of morals. This trial is meant to show us where your morals lie through visions of the past and beyond. Sometimes the plant has a mind of its own though so I don’t expect anyone will have the same experience. Some may not even serve the purpose of the trial but the vision is more important than anything I hoped to learn.”
Shaoni spoke like an announcer from above us.
“There is a plant there for each of you, peyote plants that I had grow for just this occasion. Each of you will eat one of the plants and they will give you visions. You will walk among the spirits and they will show you what you need to see.”
Shaoni finished, like she hadn’t just asked us to take hallucinogenics in an unfamiliar environment surrounded by people we didn’t really trust. I wasn’t a huge fan of being here when I was in control of my faculties but while experiencing a vision, oh no, fat chance. Then again it wasn’t like I had all that much of a choice, I realized just before I opened my mouth to protest.
“Fine but what does that tell you about us? Sure we can go get high for you here but it doesn’t really help anyone.”
Brooke spoke up, taking his usual disrespectful tone with Shaoni.
“I have my ways of knowing, but this experiences is for you. It should tell you more about yourself than it will tell me but I assure you, I will learn something.”
An annoyed but composed Shaoni responded. With that she turned and left us to our task.
“So does anyone want to go first?”
Katrina asked, putting a finger to her nose, inviting anyone else to go first.
“Not so fast sweetcheeks, I don’t trust any of you so how about you take the first crack at it?”
Brooke pointedly suggested. I think Katrina wanted to throw a haymaker at his face right then but I stepped in first.
“What if we all did it at once? Then no one is waiting around and I highly doubt she would let anyone come down here and do anything to us if these trials are that important to her.”
I reasoned, pointing up at the balcony Shaoni had been standing on.
“I still don’t like it but I can live with that, I agree everyone at once like… what’s your name?”
“Keith”
“Everyone at once like Keith said.”
Commanded Katrina, looking everyone in the eye and daring them to challenge her. I didn’t know what she did before coming here but whatever it was gave her a glare even Shaoni would be proud of. No-one hesitated to walk up to their respective bowls and take a bite of the strange pinkish flower at the top of the cactus.
The effects weren’t immediate, John just ate his flower then knelt by his bowl, eyes closed waiting for the vision to come. Robert leaned against the wall looking at his watch, seemingly judging the time before it took effect.
“It’s not my first time with peyote, I’ll probably stay up a little longer than you guys.”
Brooke bragged to the room, taking a seat by his bowl as Katrina and I did the same.
Poetically, Brooke was actually the first of us to go down for the count. I had to resit the urge to stand up and kick the crumpled up purple ball that was formerly Brooke. I don’t think anyone would have stopped me, heck the way Katrina was glaring at him this morning she might’ve joined in. But given what came next it was probably a good idea I didn’t stand. All of a sudden the room began flashing different colors, orange then brown then blue. I felt like I was falling but I hadn’t moved. Eventually a sensation came over me, like I had stood up but I was acutely aware of the fact that my body was really lying on the floor of the coliseum. As my vision cleared I started to recognize things, sights and sounds of a hospital room. It would seem my vision had started by bringing me back to my father.
I inched through the hospital room, sure of what I’d see on the other side of the thin curtain. A heart monitor beeped, just the same as the first and last time I’d been in this room. I saw my father, splayed across the bed no different than the only time I’d been in this room. I’ve always maintained that my family life was generally normal, anything that lay outside of that box of normality could be attributed to my father. He was never what I’d call a good person. Sure, he was never aggressive towards me but it didn't really count for anything. You could tell he never really wanted me. What he did to my mother, that was another story. He came home drunk almost every night and she end up with a black eye or worse at least once a week. Unfortunately for us he had a good job, he paid the bills and my mother and I couldn’t really support ourselves on our own back then. Worse still my mother always told me she put up with it for my sake when I asked her about it. That meant I always felt partially responsible every time I heard a fist meet skin in the room below mine.
My father had ended up in this bed by way of a drunk driving incident. Funnily enough it wasn’t actually his fault. He just so happened to be in the wrong intersection at the wrong time when a box truck plowed right into him. The accident left him with severe brain and spinal damage. It was a sick joke he survived, not a miracle. He’d be on life support from now on. I could’ve made him pay for everything he did with the simple tug of a cable. The only reason I didn’t was that the owner of the company that employed the box truck driver offered to pay all his medical bills. He must not have looked to closely because my fathers insurance was covering all of it. But every week a hefty check came in the mail anyways. As long as he was alive and in that hospital bed, me and my mother could live comfortably. It wasn’t really the right thing to do but I figured it was what my mother deserved after years of putting up with his abuse.
The heart monitor’s shrill beeping focused me back to the situation. I stood over my father’s body, the old urge to just pull the plug washing over me again.
“It would be so easy. Mom’s fine now, you’re managing, why do you still need him?”
I thought to myself, toying with the idea as another voice spoke in my head, Shaoni’s voice.
“He’s earned it, he ruined years of your mother’s life, Its only fair he pay a price for what he did.”
I looked around for the source of her voice but I saw nothing, maybe I was just hearing things, it was just a vision after all right? I looked down to see I was now on the opposite side of the bed, hand reaching toward the cord that powered the life support. Time seemed to move at a crawl, was this really the best option? He was probably solely responsible for the distance between my mother and I, he beat her so many times. Some of the blame for it even sat on my shouldres, would killing him take that away? Could I live with myself if I did this? Knowing I took the easy way out at his expense. No… I couldn’t, it would make me just as bad as him. It just wasn’t right I shouldn’t be the one to decide if he dies. Besides, whatever sliver of sentience remained in him deserved to watch as he shriveled and died in his own way, in some ways that was far worse but he didn’t deserve an easy way out either. The room spun as I made my choice and pulled my hand back from the plug. Sending my vision spiraling as my body collapsed to the cold hospital floor. When I finally fought my way through my spinning vision and back to my feet I was somewhere else. I was in Imalone and if I had to guess it was the night I first saw Shaoni.
I was somewhere in the town square where I got chained into the wooden monstrosity the cultists had made. Shaoni was circling in the sky so I guess I was watching this memory from outside of myself. I was made absolutely sure of this when I saw myself being carried out of the old rotting bar. I watched as the situation played out exactly as I remembered it. Right up until Shaoni landed and came to speak with the one masked cultist. What had been gibberish to me before was suddenly crystal clear english.
“What IS this! You think this is right!? This is what you think I stand for, human sacrifice?!”
Shaoni shouted with such intensity and force I jumped back, looking for a place to take cover.
“Brother Aaron foretold your approach, this outsider wandered in so we thought he would make an excellent gift to you.”
The masked cultist answered, missing the point entirely as Shaoni’s eyes flashed with fury.
“There will be a sacrifice alright, a price must be paid for everything you’ve done here. You have no understanding of what I stand for, You’ve spit in the face of it in fact and for that, each and every one of you will make a sacrifice. Release that poor boy, NOW!”
Shaoni commanded the cultists with a voice so stern I almost ran to try and free the trapped version of myself. None of them budged, they didn’t even seem to realize what kind of danger they were in. Shaoni strode past them over to me where she offered me her all to familiar deal. I was stunned, I never stopped to think that she fully intended to let me go either way. Sure, now I knew that these guys weren’t her usual followers. I still never thought she came here intending to wipe them out. I didn’t really have a chance to dwell on it. Before I knew it Shaoni was transforming again causing a tornado to appear in the middle of town as lightning struck around the area like machine gun fire. As the wall of wind rain and lighting reached me I felt a familiar falling sensation and blacked out again.
When I came to I was back on the cave floor again. I wasn’t sure if I was still in a vision until I felt a sharp kick to my side.
“Oh… that felt… very real. Oh god why?”
I groaned as I looked up at the smirking Katrina.
“He’s awake, that’s everyone then.”
She called out to the rest of the group who were all standing around me. She and the others walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving me there on the floor. With nothing better to do I followed them out. Outside the full moon had shown itself, bathing the camp in shimmering moonlight. Shaoni walked up to greet all of us who’d just collectively decided to just go outside.
“You’ve all made it through it would seem, I hope your experiences weren’t to unpleasant.”
Brooke charged straight past her, I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Obviously he’d seen something he didn’t like while he was under the influence of that plant. Katrina seemed completely unaffected, marching by Shaoni filled with the same confidence she had when I first saw her. Robert and John seemed completely unaffected by whatever they had seen but something told me they might be used to it. Me, I wasn’t doing so great. I wasn’t all that pleased about revisiting my father and all those old memories and whatever that flower was called had really done a number on me. I weakly waved to Shaoni as I walked by, just trying to focus on walking straight. She didn’t seem to surprised that none of us wanted to talk to her. She didn’t say anything to us as we all quietly sat and ate. I didn’t like the silence, it felt like everyone was just waiting for something to happen but no-one had any idea what. So I got up and headed back to my tepee, maybe Rocco had turned something up on Brooke.
Rocco was waiting for me atop his mountain of food when I got back.
“I found somethin yous might be interested in”
He said triumphantly, waving around a polaroid photo he had clutched in his paw.
“Give that to me!”
I snapped, ripping it right out of his paw.
“Well someones in a mood.”
“Getting drugged will do that to you.”
I snapped as Rocco stared at me, paws on his hips like he was about to give me attitude.
“I’m sorry My heads still just spinning from… well everything today.”
I sighed, holding my head in one hand as I shook it. Apologizing to a raccoon, my life really was something wasn’t it? I looked down to the picture enemy hand and immediately ice shot through my veins. It was a picture of Bianca taken not too long ago by the looks of it. She was walking back into her house in the photo and it looked like it was taken from a passing car. The photo itself isn’t what really concerned me though, the message written on the back did that. “What you seek can be found in the town of Eagles Peak”, the note read in a singsongy way. I’d never seen Shaoni’s handwriting but given the circumstances I was sure that’s what I was looking at.
I looked up at Rocco who looked more serious than I’d ever seen him.
“Now I don’t know what happened to that girl but somethin’ hurt her before we knew her. If that’s the somethin’ that did, and I’m guessin’ it is lookin’ atcha’. I say we should hurt em’ back.”
Rocco told me with cold steel in his voice. It was weird, hearing him speak without a hint of a joke or over exaggerated movement. We finally found something that the little menace to society could focus on, something… productive.
“My hands are tied, I don’t think anyone here would take kindly to me just attacking someone. Besides, look at him, he’s taller and obviously stringer than me. I’m just a scrawny guy who’s way out of his element, I don’t want a fight. Just… keep an eye on him, maybe we can find something to turn the others against him?”
It wasn’t the answer Rocco was looking for, that’s for sure. He deflated at my words, I’m sure he wanted to go in guns blazing and confront Brooke with what we thought we knew. That wasn’t really going to be an option here, even if it was I’d rather not do that.
“Oh, one more thing, Don’t let Brooke go back into town if he tries to leave, I don’t care how you do it just don’t let him leave.”
I added as an evil grin crossed Rocco’s face.
“Aye’ aye’ captain!”
He cried, raising a paw to his head and saluting me.
Just then I heard someone knocking, no rustling? Screwing around with the front flap to the tepee trying to get my attention. I opened it only to see, “Shaoni?”
“I wanted to ask about the visions today, I’ve talked to everyone else but I couldn’t find you so I guessed you’d be at… is that a raccoon?”
Shaoni stopped, seeing Rocco frozen mid step behind me as he tried and failed to run before she saw him. Realizing he’d been seen Rocco twirled around and in a way only he could announced,
“Whatcha’ think you were looking at Pocahontas?”
“Oh? It talks as well?”
Shaoni said, somewhere between bewildered and bemused as she looked between me and the mouthy Raccoon.
“Course I talk! I thought you woulda’ seen somethin’ like that when you were busy painting with all the colors of the wind!”
Rocco yelled back at her. I wasn’t sure if he was actually offended by Shaoni’s questions, or just deliberately trying to be a nuisance, probably the second thing. I whirled around and glared at Rocco, holding my finger to my mouth in an attempt to shut him up. For once he actually listened.
“I… sorry about him, he’s always like that, part of his charm you know.”
I said with a shrug and a nervous chuckle. Shaoni shook her head dismissively and continued.
“Did you see anything in the cave that you wanted to talk about?”
She asked me, now sounding a little annoyed. I thought back to my father and that hospital room, I wasn’t really ready to talk about that with anyone just yet. But I did have some new questions about how I got into this whole mess in the first place.
“You said back in Imalone you saved me because I realized there was a price for being saved. That wasn’t really it though was it? I saw it again, I could understand you this time. You were going to save me regardless. So why mark me Shaoni? Why did you really bring me here?!”
I said, my voice raising outside of my control as I spoke. I had to finally admit to myself that I was sick and tired of being dragged around in the dark. I was suddenly furious and I didn’t care who it was standing in front of me, I wanted an answer.
“Those men were ruining my name, they thought they were following the Thunderbird but it was just some idea of me they had come up with. They used me to justify their horrid actions and I came to put a stop to it. You were there and when I offered you a deal you didn’t fight it. That’s why I marked you.”
Shaoni spoke quickly, like she wanted to avoid the subject, all but turning around and leaving right then.
“Bullshit! I want an answer Shaoni, a real answer!”
I yelled at her, my fury taking full control of me. Shaoni was silent for a minute, when she finally spoke she looked down, never meeting my eyes as she softly said.
“You remind me of someone from a long time ago. They were blind to the way of things at first, an outsider even. In time though, he became what bound our people together as one family. I don’t have a better answer for you than that. I wasn’t sure I should’ve chosen you at first, I had a feeling that day and I followed it. What you’ve done since you’ve got here, how you’ve handled learning what little you know about the world of the supernatural. Those things are what tell me I made the right choice.”
As she walked away I thought I saw tears reflecting in the moonlight shown on her face. As I settled down I swore I heard soft sobs, echoing across the camp long into the night.

TW: childhood neglect and verbal abuse - me remembering so many things after last night's session. I just need to tell someone! I repressed this childhood since I moved out of my parents. It's like I died that day and moved on like a robot.
It is as though the illusion I've kept up for the past 24 years of me being always 'happy' and living a happy childhood just shattered entirely.
I have this diary I wrote in a lot in 2014, which is from exactly 10 years ago when I was 14. I cherished it a lot and sometimes would look into it to remember the old days. However, just last week I looked into it again after several months of being more focussed on my mental health (and especially on my childhood & parents.). This time, I saw something entirely different in this cute colorful happy diary.
All I see now, is how I was suffering. Suffering alone and always walking on eggshells. Nothing was ever good enough. Almost every page I refer to 'future me', the one who will understand me. I didn't get that from my parents. Old me, who will listen to how I am feeling and give me the comfort and soothing I so desperately needed.
I write about how I was completely exhausted from highschool, and then constantly bash myself with extremly self critical words. I have pictures of me in there with apologies for being ugly, and stories of 'how I didn't work hard enough'. Several pages describe forms of catastrophizing over the smallest mundane things.
In some pages, I casually mention a family member I dearly loved dying but then downplay it with something else. It's ups and downs by the sentence "It was my birthday yesterday, I had a great time! I am exhausted and drained and school is horrible. I did get a nice gift. I hope grandma stays alive" etc.
All this time I was happily keeping up this story of how happy I was. How I had such loving parents who where always there for me. They would shower me with gifts they could barely afford.
In my house, there were no rules. There was no bedtime. There was no structure - no breakfast together or chores I had to do. Everyone was jealous of me, because I was so free, but child and teenage me were constantly longing for someone to care.
I would be gone from home as much as I could. The atmosphere was so hectic. One day you'd come home to a happy loving mom who has all the patience and curiousity to hear about my day and my struggles. The other I would walk in and get scolded about how I was nothing. One day she was willing to help me with my feelings and emotions, but in other days she'd scold me for having them! I should be strong because according to mom, she's cyinic, and the world is 'angry and cruel. The world is unfair.' Now get up and don't wallow in your sadness and self-pity.
It's like they would give a gift sometimes, just to then call me ungrateful every day after. According to them I was unthankful, selfish, and my mom said I'd act as if the world revolved only around me. If I'd say "huh, I never said that?! I would never say such a thing?" she said "that is just what you think you are doing. But in reality, you're ruining it for everyone".
Eitherway, after going through the entire diary without skipping a page, I remembered I once made a video of my mom attacking me. I looked it up, and for the first time in 8 years I had the mental energy to watch it. My jaw dropped to the floor. I never even saw someone act so horrible before but it's me going through it....
t's like my world shattered. My mom was treating me absollutely horribly in this video. I don't even remember! You can see her face, and she is so scary! Here eyes look like pure hurt, as if she was throwing her own traumatic upbringing onto me and blaming me for it. She looks at me as if she's completely disgusted by me! The entire rant of hers is a complete mind trip where she downplays everything I say and spins it around as if I was just a burden who tried to make life for my parents worse.
I would never help with chores. Because, if I asked if she needed help, she didn't. I didn't have to do anything in the house but also did not know how to do anything. Then on other days she'd get angry I wasn't doing enough in the house and mention how our life should be about "giving and taking" and I should participate in that.
Now having read all of this, and watching some more video's of these attacks, I remember many things. How my parents would lock me up in the dark cold hallway because I had a "tantrum". They say it 'wasn't that long' but overstimulated and panicked todler me would bawl her eyes out. I felt so abandoned. In my life, alltogether, my strongest feeling is guilt. I feel guilty for everything. I feel shame. I feel ugly when I cry.
I only managed to teach myself how to release emotions in january this year. I never knew. I couldn't cry since years. When I finally managed this year, I'd notice I'd feel so ugly. My cries sound like my mom crying. She'd cry in our house regularly at some point. Really messy, really loud.
Because of constantly being told I wasn't doing enough, or that I didn't care, I wanted to please. I would muster up the courage and shun myself for how difficult and bad it felt to do so. I would ask her "mom, are you okay? Do you need a hug?"
She'd turn around on her desk chair and YELL. Loud. Screaming at me to get out of her face. Just get out of our life. This happened several times. I'd just walk away from the house. I felt so alone and unwanted. I never could do it right. My dad would just avoid my gaze.
Some days I would be begging my mom for a hug. Just for some attention. But she was so overstimulated that she couldn't even give me a touch. I would feel so lost and alone and just go outside and distract myself with imaginary games. I remember because of this, the moments where I would overheat my parents show off to parents of friends of mine how "I was such an easy kid" and how I could entertain myself and be happy for hours. The other parents would be jealous. I wouldn't know why this would make me cry
My life first going to school was just sheer terror. I felt so abandoned. Every time mom dropped me off I'd kling around her leg crying and screaming. Then afterwards, I wouldn't want to go home either. I remember how later in my childhood I still felt guilty for this behavior, because mom must have been so ashamed. I'd hang around teachers and daycare adults all the time. I wanted to hug everyone, because that was what I so desperately wanted.
My dad could never give hugs. Sometimes he'd allow it, but it would feel so distant. If my mom was starting to freak out about me, he'd sometimes intervere and call me to 'it's done now!' and 'go to bed'! No matter the time. I'd lay in my bed, just trying to curl up and feel somewhat comfortable.
In primary school, I would constantly visit friends. It continued in highschool too. I had two music classes and sports, so for four days a week I was settled after school - not having to go home immediately. Home didn't feel safe. It wasn't a constant. Some days there would be dinner at a nicely put dinner table and we'd eat together, some days I'd just eat some bread myself.
Some days mom would just be lying in bed. I found a video, that's why I remember. She would'nt get out until the beginning of the evening. This was in the time she would normally make me some lunch, or ya-know, take care of me. Suddenly I'd have to do everything alone.
I was constantly entertaining myself with imaginary friends at home. I'd play outside until I was 17 or so, alone. My cat was pure innocence and love but when I told my parents he was 'coughing' they didn't want to believe me. They only took him to the vet when it was too late and never apologized or were able to own up for this.
When I was 14 I wrote in my diary I was looking forwards to visit grandma. She's my mom's mom, and I would sometimes spend up to a week there just to be able to relax and be loved unconditionally. My mom would terroize me with her stress and anger and accusations to a point I couldn't focus on school. I wrote how she'd come into my room calling me names and how I couldn't read my homework papers through the tears.
My dad was never really there. He'd choose himself to be out of the house in the morning before mom and I'd be out and then when he was back he wouldn't make it further into the house than his TV chair. My parents would watch TV for hours when I was a kid. If I asked "what are you watching" they'd both go "Shhhh!". If I'd push it futher, the'd send me upstairs.
I feel like I spend so much time just hiding from my parents. Wheter it was upstairs in my bedroom all day, and night, or if it was outside. I now also remember just biking for hours crying hoping someone would stop and console me. I'd make the wrong friends and smoke weed at 16 just to stop the thoughts.
I would visit friends just because their house was calm and safe. I'd get a nice dinner there, and it would be a whole new experience. My parents would always be easily agitated. I am hyper senstive, hyper aware. I get uncomfortable just seeing them being uncomfortable. I remember I could already feel the energy from streets away. Sometimes I knew it would be wrong and I'd just bike somewhere else and go home later.
In one diary entry, I describe how my parents told me to write a letter to my dad's mom for her birthday. I finish the letter, and only then I allowed myself to take a shower and take care of myself. I would rot in bed, and rot in my dirty hair for days, just like mom. On other days she'd be so happy, she'd be re-decorating the entire house, invite me to go rollerskating.
But I also remember how many times my parents threatened to throw me out of the car. I remember how my 'reaction' to whatever they 'gave me' would never suffice. Then I would be the bad guy, for not being thankful.
My parents, they did everything for me. They paid for everythingg. Ya-da Ya-da, but I never had a proper hug from my dad. I don't know why he's even with my mom. I think he's a fun dude, but he's in mental pain. My mom told me way too young how her trauma's affected her. My dad's childhood would always be an excuse that I had to empathize with when I asked mom as a kid "if dad really loved me".
Other memories involve me running upstairs and then one parent following me. I don't remember getting hurt physically, but I remember all my life the pain I can see in their eyes.
If I look at pictures from my teenage years now, I can finally see the depression in my eyes. It took me up until this year to finally understand that having a clean kitchen and bathroom is something you do because you think you are worthy of a clean space. I had to get out of a depressionhole again over the years many times. I now realize the constant self critisism should have been self love. So that I would feel worthy of taking a shower and brushing my teeth.
I now see how what I saw as 'good experiences' are mostly just my parents taking me somewhere to do some activity and it just fits the perfect family picture. I was their only child but we'd celebrate christmas with many, many presents for me. But once my grandparents didn't live anymore, the birthday parties and tradition celebrations weren't hosted anymore by my parents. I wonder for who they truly did it. I was a golden child, but later in life I was just a burden.
I moved out the first chance I got. They didn't stop me. I was barely 17. I got into partying and drug abuse. I would sleep for weeks in bed. Barely ate. Then I would drag myself out of it again and have missed my mom's birthday. I was the one ruining the relationship to them.
I realized last year my parents had not called me for over 7 months. That was the first time I cried since the last time I did as teen. It's always coming from me.
My depression, my axieties and the treatment my parents gave me were never seen. It was never validated until I could finally read my diary with new eyes and watch those videos. I never got professional help but I will look for this now. I am really longing for someone to tell me what I was going through wasn't normal.
I did not remember this until yesterday, BUT, I am so used to being called weak, sensitive, a cry-baby, a bitch, for telling my mom how her verbal abuse made me feel. I feel so weird, how I repressed all of this for so long and the past years I tried so hard to still visit them and give them hugs and they felt good and now it all just feels fake and weird again.
Well yeah, so this is about everything that's been on my mind today. I feel totally weird. It's a tuesday and I couldnd't even work today. I am lost.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

A quick little history is my girlfriend and I have been together for almost a year now, I know it’s not long and we are both just kids, but honestly I know this will sound pathetic but I see a future with her. I am devoted to her and really loyal. I am M and I way too many mental health issues, it gets annoying for people around me too. I have been in past relationships (none ending well) and those have formed me into who I am now. My girlfriend has never had a past relationship and has no diagnosed mental health problems, she moved to the US when she was around 7
Now with what I hope is enough information, I’m gonna explain what’s happening. My girlfriend and I used to be all over each other. We would call eachother for hours and sleep on calls (yes I know it’s silly we’re young and so dumb). We go to the same school and everyone knows abt us cause we display affection publicly. Her and I have always been so comfortable with eachother and we did a lot of adult things with eachother (nothing to big). In the start we would never argue and have no problems, but as we’ve been staying together longer I feel like she might be losing interest in me. I’m very clingy and want to talk to her a lot, she said she enjoyed this until one day when I was out with my family she told me that I’m far too clingy and that she needs space because I am too much and that I tire her. I felt horrible about myself and I ended up crying as my Mom comforted to me (I know this is childish and pathetic at my age). Things really only go downhill from there, we hug and kiss a lot, but it becoming less and less physical affection overtime. I’m very sensitive and will overthink anything she does, she has hurt me countless times and she knows this very well. I feel like no matter what I want or ask for it doesn’t matter to her if it doesn’t help her out. She never looks happy with me and whenever I talk about it she gets mad at me. She always look happier with her friends and I mentioned it and she got mad at me and when we arrived to her class she stormed off into the room, not saying goodbye to me only making sassy facial expressions. Whenever I try to talk about my problems or my feelings with her, it looks like she doesn’t care, I can type a paragraph and more and she’ll respond with “okay” we used to talk it out with paragraphs. I asked awhile ago what she doesn’t like abt me and I fixed everything she said (or just ignored it). I really want to stay with her but she doesn’t change anything for me. She cries if I start “complaining” about how she treats me, in the end I comfort her and ignore my own problems, I feel like that might be manipulation but I’m not smart.
I know it is pathetic for a man to come out and t complain like this but it’s hurting me. What should I try to do, is it soemthing with me or her? Please give me any advice you have

Dragi svi, molim Vas da izdvojite 15-20 minuta i pomognete mi na putu prema diplomi ispunjavanjem upitnika na poveznici: https://forms.gle/PibGJpvNM22KhKkF7
Istraživanje je u potpunosti anonimno, a Vaše sudjelovanje dobrovoljno te u bilo kojem trenutku možete odustati od ispunjavanja upitnika.
U istraživanju mi nedostaje nepomagačkih zanimanja poput IT-ja pa Vas ovim putem molim za rješavanje🙏
Uvjet je da ste zaposlena osoba Unaprijed zahvaljujem!

Dragi svi, molim Vas da izdvojite 15-20 minuta i pomognete mi na putu prema diplomi ispunjavanjem upitnika na poveznici: https://forms.gle/PibGJpvNM22KhKkF7
Istraživanje je u potpunosti anonimno, a Vaše sudjelovanje dobrovoljno te u bilo kojem trenutku možete odustati od ispunjavanja upitnika.
U istraživanju mi nedostaje nepomagačkih zanimanja poput IT-ja pa Vas ovim putem molim za rješavanje🙏
Uvjet je da ste zaposlena osoba Unaprijed zahvaljujem!

I'm looking to get into / Learn Video Editing, Mainly Vlogging content. Will the new Surface Pro be good for that type of use? The idea of Tablet Like form factor attracts me. In terms of software, I most likely be using DaVinci and Capcut.
Thanks

Hey Everyone! Welcome to the Cardinals Reddit Daily OveUnder Contest! I’ll post these daily as long as I’m able to, but I’m sure real life will get in the way here and there. This is all for fun. No prizes other than bragging rights.
 

Rules:

• Each question must be answered, including the tie breaker.
• Entries must be submitted before 1st pitch (I’ll do my best to turn off accepting responses at game time).
• Editing is turned off for the form entry. Duplicate entries will all be disregarded.
• At least 5 entries must be made for points to be earned for the day.
• All questions regarding the named probable pitcher will default to the starting pitcher for that team in the event that the probable pitcher does not make the start.

Scoring:

1st Place: 3 Points
2nd Place: 2 Points
3rd Place: 1 Point
Correct Tie-Breaker: 1 Point
10/10 Correct: 1 Point
0/10 Correct: 1 Point
 
I'll keep a tally and post the results as a comment in that day's post and link it in the next day's contest thread. Points will keep accumulating throughout the season. I will be using MLB GameDay and ESPN for official scoring.
Good luck, everyone! I hope you enjoy! I'm also always open to feedback on how to improve or suggestions for questions (it can be tough trying to get enough variety!).
 
Not required for entry, but I’d appreciate leaving a comment/vote for visibility on the page
 

OveUnder Contest: May 21st

 

Vs Orioles, 6:45 CT

 

Kyle Bradish Vs Lance Lynn

 

OveUnder Form Link

 

May 20th Results

 

May Standings

Reddit Username	Points
u/DSchibler	13
u/Flimsy-animator756	7
u/dan81989	6
u/fujiesque	6
u/Weezy2337yadude	6
u/dquizzle	5
u/gonelikecommonsense	5
u/Nurlitik	5
u/PCBangHero	5
u/SomethingAvid	5
u/Kevindoesnotcare	4
u/more_whales	4
u/FKACaptainFlaherty	3
u/jmikesyo	3
u/mogli9998	3
u/newtickled	3
u/Pantherspats	3
u/SGT_Apone	3
u/zap_the_frank	3
u/EE89	2
u/InternetGoodGuy	2
u/jacksonfake	2
u/ski_mom	2
u/StrangerFront	2
u/Xerowaltz	2

 

Overall Standings

Reddit Username	Points
u/DSchibler	28
u/InternetGoodGuy	12
u/zap_the_frank	12
u/gonelikecommonsense	11
u/Dan81989	10
u/more_whales	10
u/PCBangHero	10
u/NotGordan	9
u/Nurlitik	9
u/StrangerFront	9
u/Flimsy_animator756	8
u/jacksonfake	7
u/MVPBaseball2069	7
u/SomethingAvid	7
u/fujiesque	6
u/jmikesyo	6
u/Paulspike	6
u/SGT_Apone	6
u/theredd636	6
u/Weezy2337yadude	6
u/dquizzle	5
u/EE89	5
u/seattle_lib	5
u/Kevindoesnotcare	4
u/Nerp_Rufflez	4
u/aga1397	3
u/FKACaptainFlaherty	3
u/iamfluffhead	3
u/JayBSmith	3
u/kyla__ren	3
u/LookitstheMeta	3
u/mogli9998	3
u/newtickled	3
u/No_communication101	3
u/ohforschern	3
u/Pantherspats	3
u/Pizzayolo96	3
u/tehmeat	3
u/TronaldDumpsLogs	3
u/Vasego1	3
u/Actually_Actuarially	2
u/Bigdaddyice69	2
u/Clueless_in_Florida	2
u/Da_Choppa	2
u/defiant_edge	2
u/jabbernut56	2
u/PhaedrusThaSquatch	2
u/PTF_Voidwalker	2
u/Redflanehot	2
u/rjaspa	2
u/ski_mom	2
u/thachiefking47	2
u/untitled5a1	2
u/Waystonebb	2
u/Xerowaltz	2
u/7thton	1
u/Abyss_in_Motion	1
u/Da_Munchy76	1
u/FrogsOfWar14	1
u/jessner88	1
u/Lefty808	1
u/MissouriOzarker	1
u/UnlikelyCheddar	1

 

OveUnder Questions for later reference:

1) Total Hits in the Game by Both Teams Combined - O/U 15.5 - Corrected question 1
2) Bill James / ESPN Game Score for Kyle Bradish - O/U 54.5
3) Earned Runs Allowed by Lance Lynn - O/U 3.5
4) Ground Ball Outs Induced by both Starting Pitchers Combined - O/U 13.5
5) Hard Hit (95+ MPH Exit Velocity) by Cardinals 1B - O/U 1.5
6) Baltimore Team At Bats with Runners in Scoring Position (RISP) - O/U 7.5
7) Double Plays Turned by Cardinals Defense - O/U 1.5
8) Total Bases for Cardinals Offense - O/U 12.5
9) Total Sacrifice Flies Produced by Both Teams Combined - O/U 1.5
10) Farthest Ball Hit in the Game by Orioles Offense - O/U 402.55 FT
Tie Breaker: Total Pitches Thrown in the Game by Both Teams Combined