Need to tell this story 2013
Hi there
This happened in 2013 but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Since my experience, I read a lot of stories from others about sleep paralysis/obes/ astral projection but none of them ever seemed like what happened to me.
I’m sharing because I don’t know what this was and I’m curious if anyone has had this experience as well.
I was living in a little studio apartment by myself. I remember I didn’t have bed yet I had just moved in. I was going to sleep for the night I remember it was a weeknight because I had work in the morning.
I had had sleep paralysis happen I would say maybe 4 times before this from age 14-22. Never SAW any shadows or demons but I did hear them in my ear.
You know that feeling you get right before you are about to go into sleep paralysis where you’re kind of vibrating and feel like you’re about to lose control? Well I had that happen, but usually it only happened when I was on my back and this time I was laying on my side. I felt like my spirit was about to detach and I was freaking out. I thought ok I all I have to do is focus on being in my body and I’ll stay but it didn’t work. I felt my ears kind of pop and heard a sound kind of like what an old refrigerator sounds like when it’s on at night.
This is hard to explain but, as I felt my spirit leaving it felt like somehow there was a way for me to choose to NOT see anything. I wanted to keep my eyes closed even though I knew it was my spirit traveling. And it worked. I didn’t see a THING. And I was very aware of the face that I was trying to keep my “spiritual” eyes closed. I had this feeling that if I let my eyes see them I would have seen my body . I knew there was a cord keeping me to my body somehow.
So, once I detached from my body it felt like I was traveling SO FAST. I didn’t get that pit in my stomach like how you get when you’re falling or on a roller coaster, but I knew I was going fast because and only because wind was going past me SO FAST. And get this it was kind of cold. Not unbearably but. Felt like 60 degrees wind. So fast. Then all the sudden no wind and I was aware that wherever I was (choosing not to see) and I heard a ding. Yes a ding like a loud ding you would hear if your order is ready from a diner in the movies. Then no wind. And somehow I “knew” that I had landed in some other little realm.
I couldn’t see. But I FELT like there were beings there that NEW I was there and not supposed to be there. Didn’t feel “evil” necessarily but it still felt terrifying. It felt like all these beings were talking to each other and living life then I show up and everyone stops and just stares at me and is thinking why and how are you here??
So I guess I “Willed” myself to keep traveling because I had to get out of there. So the wind continued and I kept going to different places (again I couldn’t see so what I could see was darkness just how it is when you’re closing your eyes on purpose)
This is where it gets weird
The only place I “landed” where I could hear people actually talking was the last places I landed
I heard the song TLC Don’t go chasin waterfalls. And it was the band and they were going that dance.
I was never even a fan of them I was sooo little when they came out and I wish I had some deeper more exciting experience but this is literally what it was and I don’t know why.
Now I still couldn’t see because I wouldn’t let myself but somehow I knew they were dancing. But again they seemed to stop and be freaked out that I was there
At this point I told myself just focus on ur body as hard as u can maybe that’ll work. At that point I felt myself falling. Same huge rush of wind and minor just minor stomach drop feeling. Finally I was in my body and I heard like a thump and then a final DING. After the ding I instantly opened my eyes and my heart was racing
I was so scared I would forget what happened so I opened up my iPhone and wrote in my notes “tlc don’t go chasing waterfalls” and literally nothing else LOL
I haven’t had any sleep paralysis happen since thankfully but I’ll never ever ever forget this

Hey just letting y’all know about a pretty good opportunity if you’re looking to learn a new skill that will make you money. I used to work in construction, which is good money but trust it is no easy task, it takes such a big toll on your body not to mention coming home so exhausted that laying down to sleep early is all you want to do as well as being outdoors exposed to whatever the weather that day. Now I’m a full time Coach for Scaling with Sales and have been for the past four months. I no longer wake up extremely early, or have to be outside in the heat and my body is thankful! Not to mention this past 4 months I’ve made about 3k a month. This money has allowed me to spend more time with my family. I strongly recommend looking into the company and seeing how much you can make without working so hard.

This is for the guy trying to say not to give money to homeless people flying a sign. This my personal experience from being homeless in Wilmington. I can't say as I speak for everyone, just my experience. 

I'm still homeless, but I've moved out of Wilmington. I had to teach myself how to read and write all over again, and this is what I do now. I hope you enjoy.

 Six-thirty am, I woke up to my alarm. I had to be at work at nine, and I didn't want to be frazzled from being in panic mode on my first day, hurried, and hassled. No, sir. You don't get too many chances to make a first impression. 

 Rolled out of my sleeping bag with a smooth, well practiced motion, unzipped the flap, and made my way out into brisk spring morning air, taking a brief pause, taking in the natural beuaty of the forest. If it hadn't been for the sounds of the highway a few hundred yards away, this scene could have been from a camping trip or hike that I remembered from days gone by. I didn't pause to think about too long due to the urgency to find a suitable tree to relieve myself. Fifty feet, at least. Fifty feet. Otherwise, that smell could come back to haunt you. This wasn't a camping trip but rather where I lived. My homestead, abode, residence, shelter, and as far as I could tell, it would be for a long time to come. 

 I decided to drink my energy drink, which had come to replace my morning cup of brew, outside this fine morn, so I made my way back to the tent and pulled my Monster can and my half full box of handrolled cigarettes from their hiding places, turned around and walked the fifteen feet to my "visiting bench". Aptly named because that's where we all sat when someone came visiting, which wasn't very often, a few feet in front was the small firepit. A hundred or so yards beyond, down a respectable hill, sat Frankies tent, another fifty yards at the split in the trail was Chris's small pup tent, where a small pile of trash meant that Chris and I needed to talk. This was my site, and I had few rules, and trash was something I didn't want to see. 

 According to the rules out here, our social contract, the first person at a campsite was in charge and I had spent the last month of winter all alone here to earn the right to call the shots. After all, it was deemed The Allen Compound for the Criminally Insane by my friend who led a real boots on the ground street outreach in town, someone that I had insane respect for and not a small bit of love. We weren't. I won't speak to insane. 

 I took a seat on the bench, popped the top on the Monster, lit up a smoke, and took a big long pull of the drink. Spring was starting to show now, and the highway was slowly starting to hide behind the new growth of forest. My tent was already invisible from the road thanks to a large camouflaged tarp that I had strung to block the view once I recovered from the panic attack following the discovery of how visible it once was. That discovery came not long after I set up camp, as I was returning from town. Walking down the shoulder of the highway, I just happened to look up in the direction of my camp and saw that my tent sat in the middle of a big clearing of branches, making a perfect frame for my work of art. The realization that thousands of people could have seen that on a daily basis. I was live bait for any psychotic person or persons to visit on a full moon. Recalling the stories of people setting sleeping people on fire for the fun of watching a human cook, I instantly turned on my heels and headed back into town, a spy who just realized he'd been compromised. I didn't return until I had a tarp, but even then, it was some time before sleep came easy. 

 Seven am and the spring sun were now spreading its rays of love to its children in the forest undergrowth, letting everything know it was day shift now in the kingdom. Down below, I spied Frankie, who piled out of his tent and sprinted to a tree like his bladder had caught fire. At the sight of this, I barked three times in greeting. He threw his head back and made a rooster crow, knowing it would wake Chris up long enough to feel the urgency. And by the time I stood up finish the last bit of my morning nectar, sure enough, scrambled out of his tent and instantly let it go right beside where his head would lay when he slept. I shook my head and trudged to my place to change clothes. A light blue polo type short sleeve tucked neatly into my cleanest pair of jeans, then a long sleeve light flannel over that as a precaution, because a lesson learned early is that you dressed for all day. There was no going home to get a coat when the temps plummeted, so it was wise to have that coat ready at all times. I changed my socks, put on my shoes and out of the flap I went. I closed it up and placed a pine needle inside the zipper that would let me know when I got back if anyone had violated my space. 

Seven ten am, and I was on my way. I had fourty minutes to be at the bus stop a little over a mile from the camp and I didn't want to be late, so off I went down the trail, just past Frankies tent I took a left, pausing just long enough to notice that Chris had gone back to bed and left his flap door open, then another fifty yard and over the fence to what I referred to as the 'exposed zone'. There, I was out of the woods walking down a small trail hidden only from the waist down by overgrown weeds and grass. The exposed zone went about a hundred and fifty yards to the shoulder of the highway, where I would merge left, facing the oncoming traffic. At that point, it wouldn't be so obvious to passing cars that I had just emerged from the woods, and the exact spot would no doubt be a mystery. There, my pace stepped up to an average of four miles an hour, something that I had clocked many times, and these days, it was a knowledge that came in handy. I could deal with being homeless, but not tardy. Every minute I walked along the shoulder of the highway, I was fraught with danger, at least in my overactive brain. I could envision cars swerving to miss the car ahead and turning me into a hood ornament, or blowing a tire and taking me out when the driver loses control for that half a second. Maybe something would fall out of the many dump trucks that passed frequently at seventy miles an hour and cleanly decapitate me before I even saw it coming. Why not? It's not like I was having a good luck streak, let's be honest. 

Seven fifty am and I managed to make it to the bus stop with all my organs just where they should be and my head still attached to my body. I lit up a smoke and fished three quarters out of my pocket, ready to pay my way and go to work. The bus pulled up on time, and I climbed aboard, nodding to the driver in solidarity, one working man to the other, dropped my coins of passage into the box, turned and found an empty seat by the window. I watched as the scenery went from historical homes with their gates and carefully tended lawns to the brown crabgrass and dirt yards where the children played in poverty, then to the blocks of businesses where hopes and dreams were born and died, with their big banners proclaiming another last chance at big savings, or let you know that for the twentieth time this furniture store was going out of business and these prices wouldn't last. Nothing but a higher class of a carnival barker. Free financing, limited time only, no interest for ninety days, credit same as cash, act now, last chance to save, overstocked and marked down, employee pricing, never before savings, trade ins welcome, don't miss out, and my all time favorite, below wholesale. Imagine that a business surviving by losing money. The saddest part of it all is that these tactics worked on people. For the second time that morning, I shook my head. 

Eight thirty eight am and the doors open at my destination, my job site, half the bus stood up to depart. Standing up and slipping No. 7 onto my shoulders, I let the line shuffle past me with the knowledge that I had time to spare 

 Eight forty, I stepped off the bus, gravitating to have a smoke with a small group of like-minded people who nodded their approval as I approached. The signal that I was accepted in the circle of debauchery. I made it clear, though, that I had no time to make small talk because I had to go to work and I was a responsible person. On time, it was late, and ten minutes early was on time. That was my motto, starting now, at least. Eight fourty five am I started to the job site, feeling the anxiety butterflies come to life in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this sort of work before, and I hoped I would catch on quick. 

 Eight fifty am, and I was standing beside the exit lane of the Walmart Superstore on a patch of grass where the stopsign was planted, dropping No. 7 to the earth. I bent over and unzipped the section that contained the piece of cardboard. As I put my fingers on it, I felt emotions pour over me, a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and determination. This was my third try at this, but I was determined not to chicken out this time, so, choking everything back down I pulled the sign from my bag and turned to face the cars coming up to the stop sign so I could show them the story of my life, condensed down to some scribbles from a Sharpie which read, 'Traumatic Brain Injury' in large lettering, with a smaller, 'Please Help' below. I'd never felt so alone as I did in that spot light that day at Walmart, that my life had led me to this point, here with a sign begging for money from strangers to get things I needed. It seemed like I couldn't even breathe with my phone service cut off, as I still felt sure that my son would call me at any minute to see how I was, and knowing that life line was severed was unbearable. 

 A grey van with a logo pulled up to the stop sign and I heard one of the doors open, then close, so I turned around to see someone jogging up to me, holding out his hand with a twenty dollar bill pinched in his fingers, "Here you go, brother. Take care of yourself, my man, "then back to the van and was gone. 

I broke. Just like that. I broke.

Acupressure is pretty much a tamer version of lying down on a bed of nails. You lay on a mat covered in tiny plastic spikes and it’s painful at first, but then turns into a warm and relaxing feeling, and it can put your mind into a meditative state. It is recommended to lie on the mat for 20-30 minutes which is perfect for listening to a Swans song or two. The mix of pain, meditation, discipline and euphoria feels in line with what swans represents to me and so the experience is very powerful.
I use a “shakti” mat but you can use another brand, this isn’t an ad. I just let my body melt into the spikes while lying perfectly still, focusing on the flow of the songs and letting the warmth from the pain sweep over me. I sleep like a baby after this and I highly recommend it to any swans fans that may be a bit masochistic and interested in meditation.

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

Did anyone else have a dog that became randomly aggressive in older age? My dog was almost 7 year old (adopted at 8 weeks) and began attacking my other dog, secluding, and randomly growling, snapping, and barking at me like she didn’t know who I was. Multiple trips to the vet but her blood work was always clear and nothing showed on X-rays. The vet gave her Prozac and gabapentin and that helped for almost 4 months where she had zero aggression issues and I naively thought we had found the help she needed until finally one day she mauled my other dog right in front of me at the back door after laying together in the couch all morning and I needed stitches in my hand when I finally freed my other dog and got her outside to safety. Luckily my other dog only had superficial wounds to her face, neck, and ears but was bloodied and had soft tissue trauma to her neck. All she did was scream and try and get away. I put her to sleep that day at the urging of my vet and family. I was so scared. Everyone said she was a time bomb and something worse was going to happen. I was so scared and thought she must be sick but I’ll never know. She was absolutely the best and most perfect dog until the last 4 months of her life. She and my other dog were best friends for over 5 years and she loved me so much, it always seemed like is fluke when these episodes started. She was perfectly trained and socialized, was always around family, friends, other dogs. Never practice, never resource guarded, never even pulled on her leash. My dogs were my life. I don’t know how I went through with putting her down.
Has this happened to anyone else? My vet says it was neurological since nothing showed on bloodwork or exam, but I don’t even understand what that means, just that it sounded so hopeless. Now I can’t help but think I cut her life in half.

Previous
So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous

Previous Part
The first sound I heard that morning was foot steps outside my tepee.
“Get up! Shaoni wants you all in town.”
The gruff but familiar voice of my driver from three days ago shouted at me. It had to be some sick sense of humor on Shaoni’s part, sending this guy to come get me for things again and again. Honestly, even I was starting to feel bad for him. Bianca stabbed his friend I knocked him off that stage yesterday with one of the war clubs. I speak from experience when I say those things HURT.
“Alright alright, just give me a second to get dressed!”
I yelled back to the man as I rushed to get around inside. At least he had the common courtesy to stay outside. A minute or two later I stepped out to see everyone else gathered around the man. Brooke, Katrina, John, and Robert all stood there, just staring at me.
“Mornin’ sleeping beauty”
Robert finally said after what seemed like forever, nearly choking on laugher at his own joke.
“I thought you were never going to wake up. Did you not hear Shaoni last night? We were supposed to be up 6 sharp.”
He explained after his laughing fit. Apparently I had missed that bit of Shaoni’s whole presentation last night. Katrina grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and started walking away.
“Come on, we’ve got to get into town and finish this whole thing.”
She called back to us just a little too eagerly.
“She’s letting us drive? I thought she didn’t want us heading back to town without some kind of supervision.”
I questioned as we all walked toward the same beat up red pickup that had brought me here.
“I guess she decided to make an exception.”
Katrina replied, not even bothering to look at me.
“Besides I don’t think running is much of an option at this point.”
She continued, pointing up towards the sky. A storm was brewing there, a killer one by the looks of it. The odd thing was it didn’t seem to want to break, it was just stuck in that state right before it starts raining cats and dogs. The dark, angry clouds tapered off in the sky the further they got from town, Shaoni’s doing, it had to be.
The five of us would just about fit in the truck, not comfortably but we would fit.
“Oh hell no! I’m not dealing with you up here!”
“Why not?! You know you love it.”
Brooke and Katrina argued as he tried to take the passenger seat next to her.
“No you go in the back or I’m driving us straight into a tree, I can’t put up with you anymore.”
Katrina yelled at Brooke, tensing up and getting ready for a fight.
“Would you guys just knock it off! Just sit in the back Brooke, I’ll take the passenger seat.”
I scolded both of them, I was done with their little arguments, it was starting to get under my skin. An evil grin crossed Brooke’s face as he turned to me
“What’s up with you two? You’ve been all buddy buddy with him since we all beat the shit out of each other with wooden sticks. He didn’t get to you first did he? Hmmmm?”
Brooke prodded with a wink.
Katrina Immediately punched him in the face before I even had a chance to respond.
“Ey that’s a good right hook! Give em’ another one, come on come on!”
A heavily accented voice cut in from below my feet. Rocco had managed to slip in without any of us noticing. When Brooke lay eyes on him he just about jumped straight into the truck bed. Apparently whatever Rocco did to him yesterday had left quite the impression.
“I’m not even gonna ask, just shut up and take a seat.”
Katrina told Rocco, slamming her door shut as I took a seat next to her and Rocco hopped in the back. Robert and John pretty much made themselves flat to their doors as Rocco took a seat in between them in the back. Brooke rode in the bed, shooting nervous glances at Rocco every now and then.
Katrina drove like a bat out of hell through the woods and back into town. I’m not sure if she was in that much of a hurry to get all this over with or if she just hoped her crazy driving would throw Brooke overboard. Given where we were headed and how close we would probably be to Bianca, I can’t say I wasn’t hoping the same thing.
We pulled into the parking lot of the Save-A-Lot I’d gotten groceries from my first day here. The storm over head was raging but oddly enough It still wasn’t raining or anything like that. The wind was picking up and the sky looked absolutely sinister but other than that everything seemed fine in the town.
Before Katrina’s combat boots had even touched the ground she was already giving orders.
“Alright listen up, We’re working as a team this time wether you all like it or not. I want us to split up and see what we can find. Anything out of place, anything that seems suspicious, I want you to make a note of it. We have to figure out who the victim is going to be and who’s doing the killing. We have nothing to go on either so nothing is to small here. Lets all take a look around town and meet back here in two hours. That’s two hours sharp Keith!”
Katrina barked, taking charge of the situation and leveling one quick jab at me before turning on her heels and heading out into the town.
As everyone else hurried off in different directions I took a second to think. If I was looking for someone where would I go? Where in town would I most likely go no matter what? That line of thought is what led me to the front door of the Eagle’s Roost. Cliche I know, but a bar was a good a place as any to start, even if it was 8 in the morning. Maybe someone new had stopped by and Tuck would know something about it.
The door was unlocked as usual so I let myself in, if Tuck didn’t want guests I’m sure he’d lock it.
“Hey, Tuck? You in here?”
I called into the bar as I noticed the usually roaring stone fireplace had fallen silent.
“Tuck’s not here right now sweet heart, but I can take a message if you’d give me a moment.”
“Oh, ok take your time then.”
I answered before realizing the motherly southern voice couldn’t possibly belong to Tuck.
“Wait who are you?!”
I chirped as I rushed up to the bar and peered back into the kitchen where Tuck usually was. In his place was a dark skinned woman that looked a little older than Tuck. She wore a pink checkered shirt under an apron that read, “Kiss the cook”.
“My, I haven’t seen you around. I’m Richelle, Tucker’s wife.”
She answered. Her southern accent was smooth and calm. The exact opposite of Tuck’s brutal hillbilly speak that he tried to hide.
“Did he not mention me? He doesn’t like to introduce me to the new comers, always worrying about me that one.”
“No, I think he mentioned you helped keep this place running when I first met him.”
“He must like you then, most people round here don’t even know he’s married. Anyways what can I help you with sugar?”
Her motherly voice did wonders for my stress. I could see why Tuck married her, with just a few words I’m sure she could set anyone at ease.
“I was wondering if anyone new came into town or passed through here. Maybe someone out of place, something like that? Oh, and where’s Tuck?”
“Well I can help with both those things. There was a man here, got off a bus last night all alone and came right in. I don’t know what it was but I just had a bad feeling about him, made me shiver.”
She gave a little shiver at that, to demonstrate I guess?
“As for Tuck he’s been staying with those scientists and…. and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”
She explained, a look of embarrassment crossing her face as she finished.
Before I had a chance to respond I heard the door slam open behind me. I swore I heard someone shriek my name. All I saw before someone knocked me over the stool I’d been standing next to was a blur of black hair flying toward me, and bright glowing blue eyes.
Bianca wrapped me in a bear hug on the floor.
“What happened to you, are you hurt, how are you back!?”
She fired questions at me as fast as she could.
“Bianca, crushing my… can you just, ease up a bit.”
I pleaded as she squeezed me harder than a boa constrictor.
“Sorry! I just didn’t think I’d see you…”
She squeaked, trailing off suddenly. A single tear making its way down her face as she blushed slightly and released me. In that moment I realized Bianca, who had stabbed a guy not to long ago for grabbing her hand, just bear hugged me. I’m not sure what I felt about that but at the moment, I was just happy to see her and even happier that she was happy to see me.
“Shaoni let us back into town for the last of the trials. We’re supposed to stop a murder in town.”
“A murder?! Is that what you were asking about? Is that man a murderer? My, what is going on in this town.”
Richelle shrieked, reminding Bianca and I that we weren’t alone in here. I felt the hot blood rush to my face as I looked up to see Bianca blushing as well, even redder than before.
“So, did you end up finding anything out about Shaoni?”
I asked Bianca as we took a seat at the bar, getting straight down to business as Richelle started stress cleaning in the kitchen.
I was a bit surprised by what she said. I never expected Shaoni to be THE Thunderbird or a descendent of them. I was still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.
“So she went into hiding here then? That cave we stumbled into that was connected to the mines. Was that her… nest?”
I thought out loud, hoping Bianca would have some kind of answer.
“I guess, that’s what Frank and Stein have been calling it too. Speaking of Frank and Stein we should probably go see them. We were planning to break you out today, guess we were a little late on that huh.”
Bianca said, getting up from her seat at the bar. I’m not sure reuniting with Frank, Stein, and the rest of them was the best idea. At the moment I didn’t have a whole lot of other options though. I got up and followed Bianca out the door, heading back to her house to call off their rescue mission.
“Good luck darlin’!”
Richelle called after us, I felt sure we could use all the luck we could get.
“How the hell’d ya get back here son?!”
Tuck asked as soon as Bianca and I walked through the front door. Rocco had already found his way back and had apparently been filling everyone in on what had been happening. Stein was unloading some sort of pistol with a long thin barrel on the kitchen table.
“I’m glad I won’t have to use this at least. It’s been… many years since I’ve had to take this out of storage.”
Stein explained to no one in particular while staring at the gun. No doubt it brought back memories of his time with the German military. Frank walked out of the basement at that moment and nodded to me.
“Glad to have you back Keith.”
He said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s great to see you all but I can’t stay too long, I’ve got to go back.”
“WHAT?!”
Everyone yelled in unison, even Rocco.
“It’s the last trial and Shaoni is overseeing it personally. You see that storm outside? That’s all her, if I don’t go back she’ll know and I’m sure there will be consequences. Besides Brooke is here too, I don’t want to give him any reason to go looking for me and bump into Bianca.”
I explained to everyone, not enough to wipe the shock off all their faces but at least Stein seemed to understand. Just the mention of Brookes name made Bianca freeze up. Only for a second but I could see this tension pass over her whole body and her eyes suddenly glowed blue and widened with fear. I was paying so much attention to how she’d react to that name that I almost didn’t feel her reach out and squeeze my hand from her place at my side. She sighed quietly before her eyes returned to normal but she still kept my hand in hers.
“You can’t go back! We only just got you back!”
Bianca protested, but my mind was made up.
“I need to see this through and besides someone’s life is at stake. I should try and stop that at least.”
Bianca couldn’t argue with that, neither could anyone else. I could tell Tuck and her wanted to but they didn’t. All Tuck did was quietly nod his head and grunt. I could tell Bianca was running through every possible argument in her head to try and make me stay but wasn’t coming up with anything. Bianca let go of my hand and asked,
“Can I at least come with you? To help stop the murder I mean.”
She looked into my eyes like a puppy, begging me to say yes.
In any normal circumstance I would’ve given in immediately to that, especially coming from someone who looked like her. This time though, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t take the chance that Brooke would see her and something bad would happen.
“You can’t Bianca, I don’t want anything happening to you especially with… him out there. I think Shaoni offered to help him find you if he showed up for these trials or something like that. Either way I’m pretty sure he’s here for you.”
I told her as gently as I could. I could see her recoil at the idea that Brooke might be here just for her. She was scared, maybe more scared than she’d ever been that there was even a small chance of Brooke getting his hands on her again.
“I… no, no your right.”
I didn’t expect her to give in so easily but it was a welcome surprise.
“I hope you know what yer doin son.”
Tuck told me as I got ready to head back out. Frank and Stein cornered me before I could leave as well.
“Take this.”
Frank said, thrusting what looked like a jury rigged walkie talkie into my hands.
“If you need anything call us on that. We’ll help however we can, and don’t expect us to sit around quietly when you go back. We fully intend get you out still, no reason to let a perfectly good plan go to waste.”
I thanked them for the walkie talkie. I was glad they were still looking out for me even if I doubted they could do much against whatever was to come, it was good to have people in your corner. Bianca was waiting for me when I got to the door.
“At least I get to say goodbye this time.”
She said with a little smirk. She’d been acting different since I got back, much more… personable?
“Yeah I guess so. What’s been up with you? You’ve been acting… different.”
I asked her, a little nervous for some reason.
“You helped me… a lot actually. Your the first person who’s really cared about me in years.”
“That’s not true, look at Frank and Stein.”
I responded, missing the point of what she was saying.
“No, not like that. I mean your a friend, a good friend… no that’s not, ugh.”
She said, shaking her head and looking a little embarrassed. Then she did something I really didn’t expect, she leaned over and kissed me.
“Just… make sure you come back ok? For me.”
She added as she pushed me out the door, starting to turn lobster red. My head was spinning but there was a bug dumb smile on my face, I’m sure of that. Filled with all the confidence that brought me, I headed back to the Save-A-Lot to see what everyone else had turned up on the impending murder.
As I walked back lighting began to crack across the sky. The lightning took all kinds of unnatural shapes. I swore one time it almost looked like a pair of eyes, watching me from the sky.
“Alright everyone, I want reports!”
Katrina shouted like a drill instructor, bring the group of us gathered around the hood of the truck to attention.
“The elderly cashier inside, she was… disquieted. More so than I would expect of someone in this strange town.”
John spoke, saying the first words I’d ever heard from him in a wise sage-like voice.
“I looked around for some kinda police station but this shit hole town doesn’t have one. How the hell am I supposed to report a murder if there’s no police!”
Brooke complained to the crowd.
“So, you accomplished absolutely nothing, I kinda figured that.”
Katrina scoffed at him.
“Yeah there hasn’t been a police station here as long as I remember. We never needed one, everyone either moved on to fast or stuck around and just wanted to be left alone, never caused any problems. Still, it’s a little strange come to think of it, would’ve figured the government would make us have some kind of police.”
Robert informed us before giving his own report.
“I looked around a bit myself, didn’t come across much on account of there not being all that many people to talk to in this town. Those old scientist types in the big white house never answered the door when I knocked and I couldn’t find their daughter.”
To my horror Brooke’s eyes lit up and he was suddenly razor focused on what Robert had to say.
“I did see some guy I’d never seen in town before walking around. Didn’t want to talk much though, he just turned around and walked the other way as soon as he caught sight of me.”
Robert finished with a shrug. Brooke seemed less interested after he heard nothing else about the daughter Robert mentioned. Did he know Robert was taking about Bianca?
“Wait that strange guy, was he wearing an old hat? Some kind of bowler I think, looked really out of place.”
Katrina asked suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
“Yeah now that you mention it I think he did.”
Robert answered after thinking for a second.
“Damn it! He saw me and ran when I was searching around town myself. So next order of business we find that guy. Keith! Did you see anything else?”
Katrina asked, whirling around to face me.
“I stopped by the bar and the bartender there told me someone new came into town a few days ago. Apparently she had a bad feeling about him. Maybe its the same guy you two saw?”
I proposed, pointing to Robert and Katrina. Katrina paced around for a bit, thinking I guess. She finally came to a rest again at the front of the truck, apparently she’d come up with another plan.
“Alright, I want that guy in the bowler hat found so we’re breaking into teams of two.”
“Uh, isn’t there five of us, that won’t work.”
Brooke interjected, earning him a look of pure murder from Katrina.
“Keep that up and I’ll find that raccoon, you can pair up with him!”
She yelled completely over Brooke’s attitude.
“I’ll go alone, Robert, John, you two are together same with you Keith and asshole.”
“I have a name you know!”
Brooke complained, getting yet another look from Katrina. If he kept that up I had a pretty good idea of exactly who the murderer and victim would be.
“Alright alright Jesus lady cool your jets!”
He said, putting his hands up in surrender as Katrina took a threatening step towards him.
A few minutes later Brooke and I had broken off from the other three having all agreed to meet up back at the truck in another hour. Brooke had insisted we go to the bar and search for the guy but I had a feeling there was more to it than that. He proved me right when he ducked into an alley and pushed me up against the side of a building right on main street. Usually that would be instantly seen by someone but here wasn’t like anywhere else. There was no one around to help me out or even see what was going on.
“I know we’re supposed to be looking for a murderer but I’ve got other things in mind. That daughter Robert was talking about, you know something about her don’t you.”
Brooke questioned with a growl, arm against my throat holding me uncomfortably tight against the building.
“Daughter? What are you talking about?”
I choked out, deciding to play dumb. He didn’t like this to much and pushed me even harder against the wall.
“That raccoon mentioned her name the other day when the fuckin thing attacked me and it seems pretty buddy buddy with you! Bianca! ring any bells!”
I felt my face grow red at the mention of her name as I thought back to the way she kissed me at the door. That reaction betrayed me and the beginnings of a twisted smile appeared in Brooke’s eyes.
“Oh yeah, you know her don’t you? Know what she can do to I bet. Did she tell you about me, how she threw away everything I could’ve given her.”
He hissed at me, venom dripping off every word.
“At first I didn’t care but then I heard stories of this whore who could wrap you around her finger like nothing else. She’d do whatever you wanted but you’d also pay whatever she asked, do whatever she asked. Imagine my surprise when I started looking into it and it turned out to be my little escaped bird.”
Brooke continued, grinning like a mad man. He was obsessed with her, it didn’t take a genius to see that. But I was in no position to argue with him, I could barley speak with the pressure on my neck from his arm.
“They called her a succubus, the crazy ones at least. Turns out they were right though, there was something off about her from the first day I met her but I had no idea she was something exotic like that. See I make a habit of collecting things, rare things, and she’s the rarest I’ve ever been able to find. I was so close to having her at one point but she just had to break away. When I met Shaoni late one night researching the supernatural she agreed to look into her for me on one condition. I agree to show up in this town in the ass end of nowhere and participate in some trials for her. Easiest deal I ever made, now I’m this close to getting my hands on her again. Imagine what she could do for me, what I could get with her powers.”
Brooke finished his monologue, finally letting me go.
“Now you’re going to show me where she is and I’m going to get the hell out of here. Get going!”
He shouted at me, drawing a pocket knife from his white suit jacket.
My first reaction was to look around and search for a way out. I couldn’t fight him, that was clear. I really didn’t want to get stabbed either. My eyes darted around trying to find anything that could get me out of this. Then I found exactly what I was looking for on the other side of the street.
Katrina had found the man in the bowler and he was running back toward the Save-A-Lot like Usain Bolt himself.
“Katrina, HELP!”
Brooke whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of her before she did anything. Katrina wasted no time though. She took one look at him, pulled the gun from its holster on her waist, and fired. The crack of the bullet made me run on pure instinct and Brooke dropped to the ground. It hadn’t hit him unfortunately, but it had bought me enough time to run.
“Argh that bitch! I’ll find her myself!”
Brooke shouted before getting back to his feet and running the other direction. The guy Katrina had been chasing used the distraction to make some distance on her. He was nearly to the corner that turned towards the Save-A-Lot. I took off after him as Katrina did the same, ripping the walkie talkie from my pocket as I ran.
“Stein get Bianca out of there! Head out to the mine, maybe there aren’t to many people there now, just get her out of town! Brooke is here and he’s looking for her I’ll meet you once this is all over ok.”
I think Stein said something back but I didn’t catch it. The adrenaline spike of getting shot at and chasing this guy who was likely a soon to be murderer made it hard to hear.
We weren’t as fast as we hoped but we were just fast enough to see the consequences of that. As Katrina and I got into the parking lot the guy was already inside, pointing a gun of his own at the elderly cashier that gave me a hard time about my ID. I made out the movements of her lips just before he pulled the trigger. It looked like she said “Oh, you’re the one she sent then.” Just before he killed her.
I stopped dead when I saw the body drop, I’d never seen someone die before. In Imalone people had died but I’d been knocked out for most of it. Seeing it up close though, it made my stomach drop. I fell to my knees and threw up on the spot, the blood, god the blood splatter behind her it was horrible.
Katrina didn’t stop after the shot, if anything she charged in even faster. The gun was still in her hand and she held it up in front of her, using the weight of the gun to smash through the glass doors with the bottom of the grip. The shards of glass rained down on the murderer who surprisingly, seemed just as stunned as I was by the corpse. Katrina dropped her shoulder and charged into him, hitting him so hard they both fell to the ground. She was back on her feet quick as lighting, flipping the guy over onto his front and putting a knee on his back in between his shoulder blades. Katrina locked his arm behind his back and said something I couldn’t hear. At that point I kinda spaced out. The only other thing I remember before getting in the truck was Katrina leading the man out of the store with his hands zip tied behind him. The few people who were in the store had come out and were starting to pick over the scene as we shot out onto the road back to the mine.
I noticed one of us was missing when we came to a stop.
“Where’s Brooke?”
“I wasn’t waiting for him, not after whatever he pulled in town. He can find his own way back.”
Katrina answered me while pushing the man she’d apprehended out of the truck and toward the entrance to the mine.
“Are you doing ok? You looked a little white on the way out here, like you saw a ghost.”
Robert asked me as we got out and followed behind Katrina.
“Sure sure I just… never saw someone die like that you know.”
I said, never so sure that I wasn’t ok. Robert gave me a knowing nod as we made our way down to the coliseum.
Shaoni and Katrina were waiting for us already. Brooke was there too, beaten and bloody against the wall. It looked like someone had dragged him back here against his will, probably Shaoni if I had to guess.
“I can’t say I’m pleased with what went on in town but in the end you did discover the murderer, even if it was too late. Now it’s time for the second part of this trial. I want to hear your judgements, what should this man’s punishment be?”
Shaoni greeted us, ignoring everything that had gone on before like it didn’t even matter. Something about that made my blood boil.
“Katrina, you first. What should this man’s punishment be?”
“P please.. you said.”
The man muttered before Shaoni slapped him hard across the face.
“You will be silent!”
She ordered, the room suddenly becoming electric with her temper. Katrina stepped up in front of Shaoni and gave her judgment.
“He took a life, he should be killed as well. It’s the only way to be sure he doesn’t do something like that again.”
Shaoni nodded at that and pointed to me.
“You next Keith, what should we do with him?”
I was filled with a rage I’d never felt before as I looked at the whole situation. Shaoni was meant to be a spirt of justice, or so I thought. Yet she let that woman die. Worse still, after what the woman said I believed Shaoni may have arranged the whole thing, murderer, victim, and all. That’s not justice, that’s playing god, using her power and influence to mess with people like pieces on a chessboard and for what? Just so she could “test” a few people who’d caught her eye?
“You deserve punishment Shaoni. That man is innocent, you put him up to it didn’t you? Him, the victim, all of it! It’s all just some kind of game to you isn’t it?! You keep claiming you represent justice but from what I’ve heard you’ve had a problem with that. This is something else though, where is the justice in this Shaoni, where! I don’t pretend to know what you’ve been through over the years Justice, but this isn’t right. If it was up to me this man should be let go so he doesn’t have you whispering in his ear and you should go back to sleep like you had been years ago.”
I shouted at her, not caring what she would do to me. It felt good though, to finally let her have it, especially after all she’d put me through.
I learned Shaoni’s real name from Bianca but hearing it seemed to make her shrink. The second I said it I had her full attention.
“No! You don’t understand Keith! These people were terrible, guilty of their own crimes. I found them both and offered them a deal. Submit to my judgment or do something for me and face the judgment of another. They got their punishments, I’m no monster!”
She roared back, the beginning of tears brimming in her eyes.
“Guilty or not you used them like pawns Justice! None of this is right, there’s no justice in it, no right and wrong. It’s just a game to you! Don’t you see this is wrong!”
I yelled at her again.
“DON’T YOU USE THAT NAME!”
She thundered back.
“Would you prefer Vengeance?!”
I added, shattering her.
The mention of that name brought Shaoni to tears and she lost her temper. She threw her hand out toward the man still zip tied on the ground in an act of anger. The tattoos on her arms glowed with a blue, ghostly light. The energy grew until a bolt of lightning arced from the tattoos, filling the room with the scent of ozone. The bolt hit the man in the head, searing the skin of his face black in an instant as his body went still.
“You don’t understand, all those years, all those mistakes. Do you know what that…!”
Shaoni started to scream to me again, but she was cut off by the sound of vehicles above us and the cracks of gunfire.
I looked around in surprise, still in shock after the brutal death of the murderer in front of me. I saw Katrina holding her own walkie talkie and smiling.
“Looks like my ride is here, time to end this little charade. Keith, I’d suggest running if I where you. Shaoni, I’d say its been fun but you’re the whole reason they sent me out here in the first place. You’ve been way too much trouble but for what its worth, good luck.”
Katrina hissed at the two of us. Robert, John, and I were stunned, even Shaoni herself seemed shocked back to reality by whatever was happening. With her piece said, Katrina turned and walked out of the mine, towards the growing sounds of shouting and gunfire coming from outside.

Note: my last post was locked because I asked a question that was deemed asking for medical advice/diagnosis. I’m not doing that, I’m just curious about people’s experiences so I can gather information. I have a sleep study in about 2 weeks.
I’m diagnosed IH after failing MSRT (couldn’t sleep) over a decade ago. I think what happens to me is more in line with IH but everything else feels N2.
What happened to me is more extreme than usual: during a weekday when I was supposed to be working from home, I was watching my daughter alone (9, so naps are alright for a little bit every now and then).
I had a major energy crash and got the feeling that I needed to immediately lay down on the floor. I don’t get cataplexy, just extreme unavoidable urges to sleep. Considering I was home, I went to my bed to just lay down for a few and hopefully feel better. I was hoping I wouldn’t fall asleep as I’d already taken my Ritalin maybe an hour or two before. I set an alarm for 30mins and went to rest.
Unfortunately, as expected, I fell asleep. I really did not want to fall asleep. My alarm went off every 9 minutes for three hours. I tried to wake up but literally couldn’t surface. I knew I was asleep, I wanted to get up and work and be alert for my kid. I simply was dead to the world other than involuntarily silencing my alarm and falling back into a dream immediately.
At the 3rd hour I was yelling and thrashing in my sleep, dreaming that someone was stealing my dog. My daughter called out to me but she got incorporated into my dream as someone trying to stop me from getting help. I told my kid, in my sleep, to “shut up.” She cried. I finally surfaced and apologized and explained the situation. She knows that I have sleep issues and that I yell in my sleep most nights and she understood.
I would NEVER tell my kid to shut up. I have severe OCD literally hyper focused on my child’s well being, so completely going offline for 3 hours and missing her call out to me is insane behavior for me.
Sometimes if I lay down for 30 minutes, as I had planned, my body starts twitching like I’m asleep but I’m not. I get up feeling refreshed. Other times I will fall asleep and stay asleep for 8 hours in the middle of the day, after a full nights sleep and 2 hours after waking up (when my husband was home).
Sometimes, like right now, my stimulant fails and my legs start twitching and all I want to do is sleep.
I’m curious if this resonates with anyone. I’m really freaked out about what happened.

Previous Part
“I knew it, I knew he’d pull something like that!”
Was the only thought running through my head as I watched Keith get forced into the truck outside. I was scared for Keith and I was angry, that kind of anger you feel in the pit of your stomach. Not at Keith though, my fury was directed at myself for freezing again. I just sat in the window and watched him get taken. Headache or not I should’ve done something, anything! Instead I just sat there and watched, powerless as always. My first instinct was to go running back home, maybe Frank and Stein could help somehow. Imagine my surprise when I walked in the door and they were looking for me. Well maybe I wasn’t to surprised, I hadn’t told them I didn’t plan on coming back home when I left yesterday.
“Bianca! We were just going to come looking for you, Keith had this idea and… are you alright?”
Frank asked, concern covering his face like a shadow. I must’ve looked like a mess, and the hot wet feeling on my face told me I’d started crying at some point on my way over as well.
“Are you ok? Did something happen?”
Frank repeated in his best fatherly voice. I could barley stammer out the words.
“Keith… gone… they took him.”
My babbling was enough though, realization shown on both their faces. Stein said something to Frank that I couldn’t hear then they nodded to each other.
“He was almost spot on with the timing. Well we best start getting around to do our part then.”
Stein said in his usual uncaring and mildly haughty manner. I don’t know why but it really boiled my blood this time. Keith was gone and he’s just moving on with things?
“Does no-one care about what just happened?! We agreed to look out for him and what did we do? Nothing!”
I screamed at no-one in particular. Those two just gave me a look like I was a misbehaving child.
“We’ve done what we could Bianca, besides Keith is the one who suggested what we’re about to do next.”
Frank stated, in an even and calm tone that made me stop and realize how ridiculous I was acting. Freaking out wouldn’t get us anywhere, even though I really wanted to. So I took a deep breath and stepped back for a second to collect myself.I hated to admit it but in a way their cold, calculating, order of operations approach would probably help here. Those two would never crack under pressure like me. While they didn’t talk about it, I’m sure they’d seen far worse working with the government.
Stein was rushing around looking for car keys when I came back into the kitchen. Frank however, stopped what he was doing to come over to me. I held up my hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to say something.
“No, you don’t have to try and convince me, I’ll come with you. What was Keith’s plan anyways? What did he put you guys up to?”
I asked, much calmer than before but still a little on edge. I couldn’t help but to feel at least a little responsible for what happened to Keith. I know it wasn’t my fault but I came with him for a reason. As much fun as last night had been I wasn’t taking it seriously. I should’ve stayed up to watch for Shaoni, maybe looked around for something she left when she was there before. Regardless, I had to be better next time.
“Keith thought that maybe someone from the reservation a little while outside town may have heard legends about Shaoni. She’s the Thunderbird, that’s an important figure in their stories and legends. Being so close to where she had been sleeping for years he thought there might be a connection. So he asked us to go out and ask around.”
Stein answered me before Frank had a chance to, walking into the room and tossing a jacket my way.
“And put this on, its cold out there.”
It was actually funny how often Stein tried to care and actually came off as so much colder. Almost like he was doing it because he had to, not because he actually cared about me.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just stressed with everything going on lately.”
Frank explained, trying to comfort me. He was right of course, but it didn’t change the fact that it still rubbed me the wrong way.
Ten minutes later I was in the car headed out toward the reservation. It wasn’t a very eventful ride and the pine trees didn’t make for great scenery, I’d seen it all before anyways. Frank and Stein were quiet the whole time and we couldn’t find Rocco before we left. Part of me wondered where he was and part of me didn’t want to know. This gave my mind time to wander and I found myself thinking my life before meeting Frank and Stein. It was weird, I usually tried not to think about it at all but something had brought those memories roaring back. Probably due to Keith asking about it the other day. No-one ever seemed to care about that, my past that is. Every now and then I’d get bored and wander around town. Someone might come up to me and talk but not like Keith did. The only real questions they asked were usually something along the lines of “What’re you doing tonight?” And other variations of that. They were usually looking for something I had no interest in. Sometimes it wasn’t entirely their choice to talk to me. I’d just use my powers simply to have a conversation with someone. Keith actually cared about me though, at least I think so.
A loud honk broke me out of my trance, we had arrived on the reservation. The improvised trailer park we’d arrived in wasn’t much to look at. A dog or two ran around the cluttered ground, free from any sort of leash. An older car missing most of the front end sat raised on a few blocks of concrete. The trailers themselves were run down and rusted. Despite the sorry sight of the place three men sat around a fire, laughing and generally having a great time. The trio looked up as we walked over, recognition passing over their faces. We must’ve looked out of place here in our shiny SUV and Frank and Stein’s three piece suits. Those two were always overdressed when they went out. The only place they fit in was the lab and they seemed more than fine with that.
“Stein! Is that you?”
Exclaimed the man on the left, standing to meet us. He looked happy to see Stein, though I had never seen the guy before in my life. Which meant he must’ve been a friend from before I knew Stein.
“My friend! How have you been? Have you had any difficulties with your… condition.”
Stein replied, cutting his eyes at the other two men like he didn’t trust them.
“They know old friend, no need to beat around the bush here.”
He had to have some supernatural abilities, that’s the only way Stein knew anyone. The question was, what was he?
The man’s name was Sam, Frank told me as we joined the men at the fire. I asked him for more, like what he meant by condition but he wouldn’t budge. Condition usually meant supernatural but a lot of them just looked like normal people. I’m sure everyone has some picture of a succubus in their head and I’m… not that. So I couldn’t even begin to guess at what Sam’s “condition” was.
“So what brings you out here Stein? I hate to say it, but I never expected to see you again.”
Sam said, trying to be as friendly as possible while ultimately telling Stein he didn’t really want him here. He didn’t feel nervous, that much I sensed for sure. No, it was fear that drove him to try and push Stein away, but what did he have to be afraid of?
“I assure you I’ll be gone before I overstay my welcome. I just have a few questions I’d like answers to. It’s entirely possible that you know nothing as well, in which case I’ll be gone even sooner. But you wouldn’t lie to me just to see me gone, now would you?”
Stein almost threatened, some of the friendliness slipping out of his voice. There was more going on here than what I could see or even sense. I’ve got a really good sense of what people are feeling at any given time but the context of those feelings can get lost on me. Sam was feeling fear, way too much fear for the situation. Maybe he knew what Stein was going to ask but I couldn’t tell for sure. I looked to the two scientists, cutting my eyes from Frank to Stein trying to see if they wanted me to step in and calm them down.
“Stein… I can’t… if she knew I talked to you she’d come here. The things I’ve done… what you helped me stop doing. She wouldn’t see it that way if she came here… she would…”
Sam blubbered out, completely losing his composure before Stein raised a hand and cut him off.
“She? You mean Shaoni, we’re aware of what’s going on. We still do have some questions about her though, ones I hope you have answers to.”
At the mention of her name all three men shot up, so I stepped forward. Frank protested but he was to slow to stop me. It’s difficult to describe how I can make people do what I want, these days I just kind of will it to happen and it does. I can force an emotion, or a feeling onto someone else by imagining it myself and projecting it onto them. Frank and Stein think it has something to do with pheromones my body produces. These pheromones can induce certain emotions or feelings if I want them too. In this case I wanted these men to feel tired, cooperative, compliant, and that’s just what they became. Just as soon as they tried to stand they buckled to their knees. I was pushing a little to hard so I eased up a bit, I didn’t want to just put them to sleep or something. Sam got back to his feet and sat down in his chair as the others did the same.
“I’d like to know about Shaoni, The full story, as much as you know.”
I commanded more than asked Sam as he just nodded towards me, a vacant look in his eyes.
“Where should I start exactly little lady?”
Sam asked me, his tone a mix of nervous and compliant.
“I want to know what you know about her, all of it, then we’ll go.”
I answered, trying to ignore the looks Frank and Stein were giving me. They knew I was taking a risk, he didn’t want to share what he knew so I was forcing it out of him. He wanted to tell me now but it wasn’t really “him”. I was in his head, and while he wasn’t going to fight me on anything now, I was sure a part of him was screaming deep down. Fighting desperately to keep his mouth shut to avoid the consequences of telling me anything. I tried not to think about what I was doing to him as Sam began his story.
“Well to start her name wasn’t always Shaoni, It’s hard to keep one name when you’ve lived as long as her. Her name meant “Stormcaller” as near as it translates to your language. She was an elder in a long forgotten tribe in what you know as Canada today. She was renowned for her ability to over see trials and solve debates among her people, always able to set right apart from wrong. The exact name and place of her tribe have been lost to the ages but I do know that it was wiped out. As the story goes the tribe met its end at the hands of “explorers”, all save for Stormcaller were killed. She fled far into the forests and eventually stumbled upon four spirits, the original Thunderbirds. At this time they were still great spirits, created by Nanabozho. Those spirits took pity on Stormcaller, allowing her to live with them in the four corners of the world. With them she learned many things, how to fight, how to think as only a spirit can, and most of all she sharpened her already formidable sense of justice. That need to see justice done, and the proper sense to see what was right from what was wrong is what lead the chief of the Thunderbird spirits to bind itself to her, giving her the powers she’s said to have today, letting her exist as spirit and man made one.
The other Thunderbird spirits eventually followed this example, choosing representatives of their own, each representing an Ideal: Courage, so that our people would never falter in the face of adversity. Solidarity, so that, divided as they may be at times our people were one at heart. Duty, so that our people would never forget their place in the world and the customs and traditions we upheld. Finally there was Justice to lead them all, so that no wrong would be left to stand, and so that one among the ideals would keep the rest in check. These four formed a council that watched over our people for many years.
As imperialism grew in the world and more crimes were committed against their people this council became more and more warlike. Often Stormcaller, now simply known as Justice spearheaded these actions. She sought to right the wrongs committed against her people and hold all responsible accountable for their actions. In accordance with her duties as the embodiment of justice for our people. This war of hers would prove to be her downfall, every day her sense of justice became more absolute, more black and white. She stopped consulting the council to help guide her decisions, believing she and she alone knew what was best for her people and fellow ideals. One thing that changed when the Thunderbird spirits bound themselves was their immutability. As a spirt nothing could harm them, they were eternal, they were and always would be. But once they had become one with a man they could be ended, They would live forever but man’s mortality meant they could be killed unlike before. Something Justice would learn for herself in time.
As her warlike nature grew, Justice began to involve the ideals in open conflict with those who sought to take their peoples land and desecrate their way of life. Eventually Solidarity fell in battle, and those who saw him fall learned of the greater forces at play. These people sought to learn the truth of the power the had seen from Solidarity and doubled their intrusions into sacred land, searching for answers. Suddenly the hunters had become the hunted, perhaps if Justice had not clung so tightly to her convictions everything would’ve ended differently. Instead Justice doubled down on her pursuit to right every wrong she could lay her eyes upon, spurred on by the death of Solidarity. Eventually Courage fell and so to did Duty, only hardening Justice’s resolve. It was only when she revealed herself to her people one day and they fled from her, afraid of what she would do. Afraid that they to had committed some wrong that she sought to right in her own violent way. This reception forced Justice to realize what she had allowed herself to become. Justice had become Vengeance, lost in anger for wrongs she could never hope to right she had lost herself, becoming something else entirely.
She shed her name, her duties, her people and disappeared into the world. Watching what would come for her people broke her. She had lost what she sought to guide and guard, let the people the Thunderbird spirits sought to protect so long ago fall to ruin. Her need to see justice done never left her, but what was once a raging inferno became nothing more than a spark. If she came across one that had escaped justice, hidden their tracks or found a way out she would know. She would right the smaller wrongs of the world in her own way, stoking what remained of the flame within and finding her own purpose in the world. Eventually she would take on a new name, Shaoni, why I do not know but it is what she choose. Her sense of justice was still absolute, she saw no shades of grey just right and wrong. But the scale of her judgment was reduced, no longer would she try and right every wrong the world had to offer but only those she could reach. The world is a dark place though, and sometimes a lesser evil can ease pain. Shaoni didn’t see lesser evil as something she could abide and so her judgements often left more pain in their place. She grew weary of her pursuit once again, seeing how little she had changed and how much pain she had brought. She chose to settle down and remove herself from the world. Shaoni would never be able to die, not from the passing of time. She could remove herself from the equation in a cave not to far from where we stand now.”
Sam’s story hurt to listen too, in some ways it only seemed like Shaoni did what she thought was right. Yet time and time again she failed to see shades of grey, and that cost her everything. It made me think of who I was years ago in a way, not that I was some all powerful spirit thing like her but still. What would Shaoni think of the person I was? How would she judge me for my actions before I meet Frank and Stein? I certainly wasn’t a saint, but did that mean I couldn’t be better? I shook my head, now wasn’t the time to think of things like that. I stopped forcing Sam to answer my question, leaving him to his own devices. There was always some lingering effects after I… did my thing. I’m not sure how exactly it felt for them but I don’t imagine it was pleasant. Realizing you weren’t really in control of yourself has a way of causing issues for a person. Sam seemed to be shaking it off pretty well though, I’d seen worse things happen after I’d finished with someone, like Keith losing hours of time sitting in the kitchen. Playing with emotions can cause stress in the brain, especially since I’m forcing an emotion or feeling on them. More than once I’d seen someone left with uncontrollable swings in mood or a complete lack of emotion or feeling of any sort because of me. I hopped that wasn’t going to happen again here.
“Bianca what was that!”
Frank complained, finally breaking free of the spell the situation had cast over him. He ran over to the other two men that hadn’t gotten up from their chairs like Sam. Worry crashed over me like a wave as I realized why Frank sounded so concerned. One of the men was seizing on the ground, his body shaking violently as spasms coursed through him, had I done that? Sam was in a blissfully ignorant sate, he just sat in his chair watching the fire, unaware of what was happening to his friend. Frank and Stein leapt into action, holding the seizing man on the ground. Stein pulled off his belt and placed it in the mans mouth, trying to keep him from biting himself. My eyes were fixed on the third man who lay motionless on the ground. I took small steady steps toward him, hoping against hope that I could find a pulse. As I got closer I realized his chest was rising and falling. He was alive but who knew what he was going through right now. I felt distant, Frank was yelling something at me but I didn’t catch a word. I had to do it right? I had to make them tell us what they knew, it could help Keith right?
“What did you do to them?”
Sam asked me, apparently free of the aftereffects of my influence. I snapped my head to the side and watched him take a threatening step towards me. I backed away, afraid he might do something rash. I shouldn’t have done that, Stein could’ve convinced them on his own.
“What did you do to them? What’s wrong with them?”
Sam asked again, his voice growing more desperate. Stein picked that moment to appear at my side.
“Sam they’ll be ok just give them a minute. She didn’t mean to hurt you or your friends, just let it go. I’m helping her the same way I helped you, she’s not always in control.”
Sam softened a little bit at that but he was still wary of me. What Stein said was a lie, I had control of my abilities most of the time these days but Sam didn’t know that. Frank walked over to where we were standing with a relieved look on his face.
“They’ll be alright, they just need rest. What about you, are you feeling alright Sam?”
Frank asked, nodding towards him. Sam didn’t answer but it was plain to see he was doing far better than his friends.
“I’d like you all to leave.”
Sam ordered, putting his metaphorical foot down. Whatever favor he owed Stein didn’t matter anymore, he wanted us out. People were beginning to come out of some of the other trailers, gawking at the scene in front of them. As the three of us were leaving Sam said one more thing,
“Stein, this makes us even.”
He growled in an even but angry tone. You could just tell he was staring daggers at us the whole way back to the SUV. I turned back for a moment and I could’ve sworn his skin was wriggling and changing. Like he was just barley holding back something. What concerned me even more was what he felt, not anger or worry, but fear.
The ride back was less than pleasant. You know that feeling when you’ve done something wrong but no one really wants to address it yet? Yeah, that’s what was going on here, the air was practically electric.
“We needed him to talk…”
Stein cut me off immediately, shouting,
“Sometimes you don’t need to help! Look… I know you meant well but you can hurt people with that power of yours. I’ve never seen it that bad before but then again you’ve never done it to a group of people that long. Who knows what longterm consequences it might have. Just… be more careful in the future.”
Stein wasn’t as angry as he tried to appear, part off him was even relived, maybe because I had been the one to handle the situation instead of him.
“I know, I know its just… Keith is stuck out there at that mine with her, I couldn’t leave with nothing.”
I agreed, He was right, it was a risk but how could I have just let it be? No-one else was going to look out for him so that fell on us now. As much as I hated having to force things out of people I was good at it, really good. Despite how I felt about what I could do to people that was the easiest way to get Sam to speak back there.
“Where did this whole drive to help Keith come from anyways? A few days ago you talk him into watching the house and throw some money, our money, at him for the trouble. I’ve seen you do that a few times before with others so you could come with us when we went to stock up on things. Regardless of our misgivings surrounding your methods. So it didn’t go that well this time and he found out about you and us. Something like that was bound to happen eventually. What I can’t picture is why you go out of your way to help him. I don’t personally have any issue with you jumping to his defense. Its not too hard to understand why someone would, considering his situation. But for you, well it seems out of character for you.”
Frank chimed in with a question of his own. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it hurt to see him so surprised that I’d consider helping another person.
I never answered Frank’s question, I thought about it a lot the rest of the way back though. Why was I so intent on helping Keith? All my life I’d done things just to survive, even when I was really young I had to find a way to get by on my own. Sure I had my mother but she had her hands full with her own life. She didn’t have much after my father left and did everything she could to make ends meet. I just tried to stay out of her way and help where I could. I never complained when she forgot to make dinner, or when there just wasn’t food around the house. I’d just go without or take what I needed from someone else. Even back then I knew it was wrong but I always had looks on my side. Combine that with pity and not a lot of people would say no to the cute hungry kid. After Brooke, I only had myself and I just kept doing what I needed to. This was different though, I didn’t have to help Keith but I wanted to help him all the same. I didn’t get around town much and I always felt like I just existed around Frank and Stein. With Keith I wasn’t just this thing lying around the house, I was a person, a friend even. That was it, the first time it really clicked for me, Keith was my friend, not because I had wanted him to be or because I made him think he was. No, he was actually there for me and it was all his choice. I didn’t have to puppet him around myself, he actually wanted to be there. I didn’t have to wonder if it was just me and everything I could do pulling him in. For the first time in years someone had actually cared enough to ask about me, Frank and Stein never really did because they knew how much it hurt. Keith didn’t know how much it hurt to talk about but still. I needed to actually talk about all that happened to me with someone who listened for real.
Coming to that realization only made me want to do something stupid. Like run up to that mine and try to get Keith out of there myself. But that’s exactly what it was, stupid. If we wanted to get Keith back we’d need something better than just me. We’d need a real plan, one I’d just started thinking of. There was something else eating at me to. Keith had offered to take some burden from Shaoni back in Imalone, I had an idea what it might be and it scared me. If I was right well, Keith was in more danger than we all thought.
When we pulled back into the driveway Tuck was waiting at the door.
“Where’ve Y’all been?! I been lookin’ for ya damn near all afternoon! Somein’ happened o’re at Keith’s place, He’s gone. I cain’t find that “lab assistant” of yours neither.”
Tuck said hurriedly, his southern accent that he usually tried to hide seeping out into his words.
“We know, it was those trials he told us about. I presume he told you as well then?”
Stein informed him as he got out of the car and marched towards the door, barely making eye contact. Stein had an idea, I could read it all over him. He got this way when he was away from home and wanted too test something, once he was back there was no standing between him and his lab.
“Yeah, the kid told me something like that. Would explain where all those people were goin’ to. Couple of the regulars in town, ones I know look up to that damn bird, left this morning headin’ towards the old mines.”
Tuck spoke to no one in particular, nodding to himself as if to check off the fact that Keith disappearing and people leaving town were two related things.
“Why don’t you come in then, you might be able to help out with the situation. We just learned a few things about this… “damn bird” of yours. I really would’ve appreciated if you told us about that years ago. Perhaps you’d like to tell us what you know of the Thunderbird in the lab?”
Stein ordered rather than asked, pointing to the door for no more than a moment before continuing on his march to the basement. Frank and I filed in after them but I didn’t join them in the lab.
I looked around the house for Rocco but couldn’t find a trace. It wasn’t like him not to leave some trail of destruction in his wake. Well hidden or not, we usually found evidence of whatever he was up to but this time there was nothing. I had no clue where he’d gotten off to, maybe I was better off not knowing. After I gave up I joined the others in the basement, to their surprise I actually had decided to make an appearance. Frank and Stein were a little rattled at first but soon went back to their work. Tuck just beamed at me proudly, like he knew something I didn’t. We set about comparing notes on Shaoni, and separating fact from fiction based on Frank and Stein’s many years working with the supernatural. It was… nice, in a family bonding kind of way. Keith had brought us all together, gave these scientist a new problem to solve. Gave Tuck a chance for some kind of justice for the friends he’d lost in the mine collapse all those years ago. For me, he’d brought me together with the family I’d fallen in with. Strange as they were, this was my family, or at least the closest thing I had to it. I had to help, not just for Keith but for them. I’d been a burden, scared to go outside, hateful of what I could do despite using it to make life easier for myself. Worst of all I’d been stuck in my own head, I’d gone through awful things, done awful things, used my body and my charm to get through life. I’d been every bit as evil as Brooke had been to me. I did everything he’d done to me to others, only it was so much easier for me to do it. I hate myself for it, maybe I always would, but I couldn’t let that stop me now. I had to set all that aside and be there for the people in my life, I had to be a person again, not just hope everyone would treat me like one.

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.

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The grand cathedral of the Unclean One stood tall and bright amidst the dark depths of Fleapit's underbelly. Its clangorous chimes, otherworldly glow, and stained glass windows depicting ratman heroes throughout time stood as a testament to the empire of filth and decay that now sought to stretch across the entire North Warrens.
Two bodies wrapped in ceremonial threads belonging to their respective clans lay upon the main altar to He-Who-Festers, a great statue of their horned, many-eyed God staring down at them as like a giant guardian watching His children finally sleep.
Before the grand altar, the Clansmen of the dead rats knelt, heads bowed, and fists clenched in reverence. They listened with total respect to the words being sung from the new Archpriest of Fleapit – the one who it was rumored would now be taking over completely from the old Prime Putrefact.
"Be letting the gaze of He-Who-Festers linger on these brave souls!" Deekius roared – his voice traveling through the bowels of the great church and causing every ratman assembled beneath him to tremble with fear and bloodlust alike. "They, your Clansmen, are giving their lives for the Shai-Alud! For a rat of the Underkingdom, there is being no greater glory! They are dying in righteous battle, filled with pox and drenched in the vile blood of our enemies! They are dying as true warriors of ratman Kingdom should!"
The soldiers and civilians huddled beneath the rat gave their thunderous thunderous assent, mailed claws knocking against their ribs and clanging on the plate of their armor. The Marrow warriors' fists beat the hardest, and the Gloomraava-touched rats of Glumrot screeched the loudest. Together, they looked the very picture of a unified people. One collective whole banded together by a shared purpose – vengeance.
Marcus watched the proceedings from the side, behind Deekius, his eyes passing over the warriors that lay supplicant before him. Whenever his stare passed over one of them, the soldier in question immediately dipped his head.
If they didn't believe in me before, Marcus thought. They do now.
Skeever stood to attention beside him, rubbing the phantom pains running up his dead arm.
"It is being a grim day for ratman Kingdom," the old warrior said.
Marcus spared him a fleeting look. "Indeed," he replied. "But rest assured, Skeever. Your comrades will be avenged."
The ratman didn't seem altogether reassured. But he held his tongue.
"You were asking me for report, Sire," he said, cringing as Deekius' raised his voice again to let his exhortations travel through the length of the cathedral. It was said that many of the civilians and warriors were actually assembled outside, unable to fit into the church's rows. The blinking crimson embers of their eyes could be seen if one focused enough on the windows.
"It is being as you said," Skeever continued. "Skegga is making push. A great mass of Kobolds are storming through to attack as we are speaking. Two forces are moving – one to assault Razork, and one to destroy Gulchnavel village. Skegga is seeking to throw everything he is having at us, abandoning forts he has left. Ix and Kobold scouts are reporting Tarakht and Gromelin are having only token defense left."
Marcus gave a curt nod. It is just as the Yokun had said. The last few nights of torture had borne some fruit, it seemed. Even if she still hadn't given him the exact answers he'd personally wanted.
"There are being two other things," Skeever continued.
"Do tell."
The old rat gulped, trying to ignore Deekius' continued screeching and the cheers of the ratmen who were listening. "The dwarf army Brother Festicus spoke of is on the move. They are destroying Clan Marrow fort Rekalspit on Eastern Border. Soldiers of Fort Spearclaw are saying that they have seen smoke from Dwarven encampments in the East. They are suggesting that Dwarf splinter assault force may be coming for us, but I am not being sure if we can trust this report."
"The guards of Spearclaw are among some of our most devout," Marcus replied. "If they think there's an attack imminent on our Eastern border, then we have to take the threat seriously."
Skeever nodded gravely. Marcus could tell the little rat was agitated. But a couple of Dwarves looking to pick apart the beleaguered ratman of the North weren't a concern. In fact, this situation might even present them with an advantage.
"And the second thing?" Marcus asked. "Tell me it's some good news, Skeever."
"It is…surprising, Sire," the rat said, watching as Deekius began to finish up his speech to rapturous applause and howls of glory. "Boss Skegga is leading one of his armies."
Now, Marcus's ears perked up.
"He is being seen heading South towards Razork," Skeever continued. "He is passing Razor Ridge within the next day according to scouts. I am thinking, this time, he means to push until we are obliterated."
Marcus wavered. "Force composition?"
Skeever shook his head. "His own army is numbering at least three thousand Kobolds," the ratman said gravely. "His detachment sent towards Gulchnavel – at least two thousand strong. They are having Skogsriders, slingers, and crossbows, Sire. Their vanguard is wearing armor plundered from dwarf supplies. Skegga must be having dwarven prisoners fit armor for his army. I…we are thinking this is being his Great Kleansing."
Marcus scoffed, a thin smile playing across his lips. "That arrogant toad…he's somehow gotten the idea that we're crippled, what? Because we lost the main Glitterpak swarm? Does he think me so basic as to base my entire campaign on the use of a single weapon alone?"
Skeever screwed up his face and twitched his scarred nose, "Sire?"
"Head to the War-council chambers, Skeever," Marcus said. "I shall meet you and King Shrykul there soon, after I've explained the situation to our soldiers."
Skeever hesitated. "'Our soldiers', Sire? I am thinking that the Clans are surely more divided now than ever. With both Talon commanders gone, the Kings of Marrow and Glumrot will be requesting that their soldiers be returned to them. They will be assuming we shall fall. I am thinking the situation is more grave than it has ever been before."
But Marcus, the veteran rodent noticed, never once dropped his smile even as he heard such concerns.
"Skeever," he said. "Have you so little faith in your Shai-Alud?"
"Ratmen of Clans Marrow and Glumrot!" Deekius howled. "To be closing our ceremony, let me be presenting you your General. Your savior that is coming to lead us in this darkest hour. Let us be welcoming SHAI-ALUD MARCUS!"
Later, Skeever would reflect on what he was about to see as Marcus then stepped forward and allowed Deekius to take his hand in his paw, absorbing the chants of reverence that issued from the throat of each and every ratman in the cathedral that night and, probably, each and every ratman in Fleapit who heard the Shai-Alud's name. Lately, it was a name spoken with the same degree of respect afforded even to the Unclean One.
And Skeever watched as the man they revered gave a single wave of his hand.
The crowd instantly went silent.
"Ratmen of Fleapit!" he shouted. "Your Shai-Alud has come to address you on this most gravest of days. On this day two heroes to our glorious cause have fallen, cut down by the dark blades of our enemies sent by Boss Skegga. And that fat toad even now gloats in premature victory. He is coming for us, warriors of the Unclean. Make no mistake of that."
Murmurs of fury permeated the crowd. Skeever noted how their ears twitched to hear Marcus's every word, their eyes hanging on his every subtle movement. When he mentioned Skegga coming for them, the crowd grew vicious. Skeever could sense the building tension even from as far back as he stood.
"Yes," Marcus continued. "He believes he has already won. He believes that crippling our leadership has struck a blow against our nation that we cannot recover from. He believes you will each lay down and offer your putrid bellies to him as he climbs over these walls and takes everything you care about. I ask you, men of Marrow, men of Glumrot, are you going to submit to him thus?"
The answer was so obvious that Skeever didn't have to hear it. Yet, still, when it came, it came with a fury the Talon-Commander had not heard in an age, not since the last Skittering was called.
"NO!"
They took up Marcus's name in a battle chant again, most of them already gripping their weapons before he even made his next announcement.
"Then the time has come for you to show this fat toad and his underlings who exactly you are," he said, pointing a gloved finger at the crowd that seemed to be directed at every ratman down there. "A time comes in all our lives when we must stand up – we must stand together, shoulder to shoulder with our brothers, and take up arms against a common threat. That common threat is here, Brothers. It is moving, and soon it will be upon our doorstep. We need an army united in a singular purpose, with a leader that can direct us towards the target of our righteous vengeance. I ask you, now, who do you wish to lead you in this time?"
"THE SHAI-ALUD!" the ratlings screamed – till the scream became an echo that weaved like a ghost through the streets of Fleapit so even the youngest rat could hear. "THE SHAI-ALUD! THE SHAI-ALUD!"
"Then let your will be done!" Marcus then shouted into the crowd. "King Shrykul has bestowed upon me the rank of First Talon! I will stand with you in the midst of the battle to come, and we shall defeat this menace once and for all. We shall push him back until he falls off the edge of this world. And we shall do so not as one Clan or another, but as a single entity. Ratmen – look at the Brother beside you. He is not just your brother in arms, now. He is not just your cousin from another Warren. Now, he is an extension of your very self. He is a weapon that shall come down upon the head of Skegga just as you are. He – and all of us here – tonight bear witness to history being made. Your time is now, ratmen! The time of your Empire has come!"
Skeever staggered back, absorbing the words of his Sire even as his ears failed to truly understand them.
First-Talon…
A name that granted power second only to that of a King of the Clans…a name reserved for only the most dire of circumstances.
Skeever looked at the pair of dead commanders beneath him, and then caught Deekius's smiling snarl as he watched Marcus raise his fists high amidst the screaming chorus of the crowd.
"It is being glorious, Brother, is it not?" the rat-priest said. "Be marking this moment, Brother commander, for history is being made."
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I (30F) met this guy (34M) on Raya a month and a half ago. We immediately hit it off. Always on the phone, FT watching movies/shows every single night. Planning upcoming trips (he lives in Indianapolis and I live in Atlanta). After a week he planned his trip to Atlanta and we agreed I'd go to Indianapolis two weeks later, and he would come to LA where I would be two weeks after that. Shortly before coming to Atlanta, he asked me to go with him to TN with his parents the week before I go to Indianapolis (the week after he came to Atlanta). I said yes and we were both SO excited. I just think things changed in Atlanta. I found him to be pretty inconsiderate because we only went places he wanted to go, stayed out very late every night, and really only met up with his friends. His excessive weed smoking also bothered me. His last night there, I told him how I felt and he completely disagreed and thought that he was being considerate so we had a slight argument. The next day before I took him to the airport, I asked him whether the disagreement changed anything between us and he said no, so I believed that.
Over the next week after Atlanta, the conversations slowed and we didn't watch movies or FaceTime not even a single time. He never mentioned TN again and went without me. While in TN, he hardly texted me back, so I told him I felt things were different. He was a little defensive but apologized and said it was not intentional. Then over the next few days (leading up to me going to Indianapolis), conversation was still slow and still no FaceTime. I just felt in my guy things were different and was not comfortable going anymore (I was solely going to visit him, but when he came to Atlanta, his friends were there too)... but he assured me things were good and that he was excited for me to come.
I am now in Indianapolis and heading home today. I have very mixed feelings about how things went. I am sad that I'm leaving because it feels like this is the last time I will ever see him. Kind of like I'm grieving? The same level of inconsiderateness continued here. He had to work a couple of days and those days I was my by myself until the evening time, which I understood. He's a photographer and his income isnt steady so when he gets a gig he has to take it. I understand. But one of the gigs were pre-planned. He told me about it before I came and put my name on the list to go with him. The morning of the event, he told me that the attire was pink and dressy. Of course I didnt pack anything to fit the dress code so I couldnt go. That evening I told him I just wanted Chillis. He said, "we can go for you but I'm not going to eat anything because I don't like Chillis" and I was like okay cool, let's go where you want to go. He had to take a nap first. Then he had to shower. Then he has to roll his weed. THEN we went. I was starving. Kitchen was closed when we got there. I was so pissed and had a visible attitude. We settled for a taco truck. The next morning, we were laying in bed and I saw that he accidentally opened Tinder. He left for a quick gig and I texted him letting him know we should start using condoms since hes on Tinder. He basically scolded me and said he wasnt on Tinder and he just has the app and that it was immature of me to accuse first before just asking. I apologized. Later, we went back to try the place where the kitchen was closed. Had an overall good day. Then we're sipping wine and watching one of his shows to close the evening, and I suggest a show and he says no and just puts on another one of his shows. The wine hit me at that moment and I went off and told him he's been so inconsiderate despite how understanding I've been the whole trip. He didnt like my tone so he yelled back a little. I called my best friend to get her take on the situation and she did agree that he was inconsiderate but that i shouldnt have yelled. I accept full responsibility for my delivery but it was really how I felt.
I slept on the couch but woke him up to talk about it. I guess I was still emotional and yelling (which I didnt realize I was doing) because he got in my face and yelled, "watch your tone in my f***ing house" and I told him that I was going to look into changing my flight or getting a hotel. He said let's just go to sleep and talk about it when we wake up. At 11 he woke up and I asked if we could talk about it. He said after he gets out the shower. After the shower, the talk was short. It was mainly me asking him if he thought this was going to work. He said he wanted it to work but that he isnt confident.
Now were down to the last day, we've been having a good time the last two days, but we did agree that him coming to LA was too soon and expensive for now. Is it possible to turn this around? I do like him aside from him being inconsiderate. I really enjoyed us connecting before things got weird. But not I feel as though he's looking at me as someone who likes to cause problems, even though that isn't the case. I just feel as though I flew out to see him just to be disregarded. I want to turn things around and get back to where they were. Will pulling back a little, but not maliciously, leaving the ball in his court work?

So as the title says I'm i. A miserable marriage. The problem is I have zero options so we are stuck. We've been together for 12 years. Married for 8. I dont know how we've made it this far. A lottttt of accepting it because its never going to change . I can't accept it anymore. Weve had the same fight for probably 7 years. . Helping around the house. He thinks because he works 8 hours that's enough and I should be able to handle our 5 children 3 dogs and 2000 sq ft house on my own. I've stayed home with this last babg due to health problems that I'm getting surgery for in 2 days. So up until my 8th month of pregnancy I was working our entire relationship. So this has been an issue since then. But he recently switched careers from construction to hospitality management of a large gas station /convenience store . Hes making great money. His construction job was morning's. This is 4pm-1am. So he gets home at by 130am. And instead of relaxing and trying to go to sleep he says up until 3-4am. Then proceeds to sleep until 1p... wakes up very very slowly. Comes out and sits in the living room . Than goes to the bathroom for a half hour. OK so by then we are already at 2pm. Then comes back out and relaxes more before he goes to work. Then gets a shower and leaves by 330.pm Allllllll the while I'm putting kids on the bus, cleaning, taking kids to appointments, taking care of the animals. Extra. All while he gets his beauty sleep.
I know he has a problem. And has for years. I used to not let it bother me until the past probably 10 months..when we do have set which is very very rare like once every 2 months , he doesn't cut. Hes never ever ever had an issue with that. I mean clearly we have 5 children. Njt I said im not good enough for you. Thats what it is your mind is over stimulated with watching porn that what we do isn't satisfying him mentally and emotionally. Clearly now physically. And it makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. I've tried initiating sex and cjdde time so many times I've given up I used to stay up for him when he'd get home for like an house to spend time together where he's actually awake. Ice asked him so come to bed with .e at like 2-230. He says I'm not tired. I said I know just lay with me until I go to sleep. Or cuddle or talk because I miss that. He said no im not tired. I said you can come back out here afterwards. And he just continues to sit in the chair watching TV and eating.
Hes gained like 30 lbs I've become unattractive to him. Just being honest. But also if he tried to make me happy in any way shape or form maybe I'd feel more fire to keep pursuing him. But I'm not being fulfilled in any way what so ever so I feel like I've given up . Most of the time we are in the car in silence. I've asked him to wake up earlier to have breakfast with me . Either go out or make it at home. He won't get up. I've asked for help with home projects. He won't get up for that. I've asked for help folding laundry since he's sitting anyway..he won't. When I push for help it gets him so frustrated and defensive that he snaps and tells me why should he do anything when I don't. Which is clearly a lie. He said you're home all day so you can do it. I said I do what are you talking about?! Its not spotless but I maintain during the day doing big cleaning projects in every room ill spend 3-6 hours cleaning one room. Than the next day do the others and so on. I do all the grocery shopping and cooking. Which ok again im home so I can do all of that. But seriously I'm overwhelmed. I'm getting major surgery in two days and I finally saud yesterday. You know I'm done being angry when you don't do things to help me with the house and kids or even being present. What's said is im more disappointed than anything and that's really ashamed because I expect better out of you because I know you can do better. I said im sick of being let down. Im sick of being alone. Im sick of cleaning up after everyone Including him because he goes to bed and leaves plates cups wrappers truly everything so I wake up and usually take care of it. So I stopped numerous times. Including lately to see if it bothers him enough to do anything. But it doesnt doesn't. I didnt speak to him for 3 solid days. And it didnt bother him , he didn't even try to reach out to me. I feel like the marriage is unrepairable but with me staying home I've become dependent which I absolutely hate. But I'm stuck. I can't leave because I can't afford an apartment or house. If I stay here and he leaves he wouldn't be able to afford to help with the kids nor would he ever see them. I've even asked him to put them on the bus for me to sleep some and also him spend time with his kids. And I wake up to him yelling at them and I flip out of him because I refuse to allow my 12,7,5 year old girls wake up to being yelled at and sending them off to school after being yelled at all because he has no patience.
I don't know what to do. I'd never cheat on him but I understand why people do. Im so freaking lonely I can't take it. I've had my tunes removed so no more babies. Our final one is an absolute joy always happy just goes with the flow. So it's not the added stress of a baby. Sbe just turned a year old. And since than we've had six 6 times. I have physical needs, emotional and mental needs and none of it is being met. Hes being a bad example to the kids of not only a husband and father but just responsibilities. He screams at them for their shoes being left out in the middle of the floor but he does the exact same thing to where he's telling them to put his away also. Like really?! He won't do counseling. I've tried. I've threatened divorce and I get told I'm being dramatic and am I taking my mental health meds because I'm acting crazy. I'm truly not though. I'm just depleated and defeated. And feeling stuck. I literally get messages from old friends who see pictures of my face and see my post on fb not including him or really any happiness and it actually makes them feel bad for me.. they say I'm too good for this, that i deserve better that they would treat me so good and have actually asked me out on dates just to feel excitement again. And I've been so tempted but I would feel so guilty.
Please someone help me with some advice. I know there's many couples who have gone through this. I need guidance. I have no family support other than oh im sorry you're dealing with this . No where to go with 5 kids.
Tl;dr Husband won't do anything to be helpful at home or with the kids. Says be works his 8 hours and that's enough . Won't do anything but leave me more of a mess to clean causing me more stress. Taking care of the house and kids completely by myself. His mom comes over to help me some times and she's o frustrated seeing him be like this towards me. Shes tried to talk to him with no result. I dont want to give up on my family. I dont know what else to do, serious talks don't work

Billboard Hot 100 chart

Position	Title	Artist	▲/▼	Last week	Weeks Charting	Peak
1	I Had Some Help	Post Malone Featuring Morgan Wallen	▲+100	[FRESH]	1	1
2	Not Like Us	Kendrick Lamar	▼-1	1	2	1
3	Million Dollar Baby	Tommy Richman	▼-1	2	3	2
4	A Bar Song (Tipsy)	Shaboozey	▲+1	5	5	3
5	Beautiful Things	Benson Boone	▲+4	9	17	2
6	Lose Control	Teddy Swims	▲+4	10	40	1
7	Like That	Future, Metro Boomin & Kendrick Lamar	▼-1	6	8	1
8	Fortnight	Taylor Swift Featuring Post Malone	▼-4	4	4	1
9	Espresso	Sabrina Carpenter	▼-1	8	5	4
10	Too Sweet	Hozier	▲+1	11	8	1
11	Euphoria	Kendrick Lamar	▼-8	3	3	3
12	Saturn	SZA	▲+1	13	12	6
13	We Can't Be Friends (Wait For Your Love)	Ariana Grande	▲+1	14	10	1
14	I Can Do It With A Broken Heart	Taylor Swift	▲+1	15	4	3
15	Stick Season	Noah Kahan	▲+4	19	33	9
16	Down Bad	Taylor Swift	-	16	4	2
17	Lovin On Me	Jack Harlow	▲+1	18	27	1
18	I Remember Everything	Zach Bryan Featuring Kacey Musgraves	▲+2	20	38	1
19	Family Matters	Drake	▼-12	7	2	7
20	Cruel Summer	Taylor Swift	▲+4	24	54	1
21	Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?	Taylor Swift	▲+5	26	4	9
22	Feather	Sabrina Carpenter	-	22	24	21
23	Meet The Grahams	Kendrick Lamar	▼-11	12	2	12
24	Miles On It	Marshmello & Kane Brown	▲+13	37	2	24
25	Get It Sexyy	Sexyy Red	▼-4	21	9	20
26	One Of Wun	Gunna	▲+75	[FRESH]	1	26
27	I Like The Way You Kiss Me	Artemas	▼-4	23	8	12
28	Yeah Glo!	GloRilla	▲+1	29	14	28
29	Austin	Dasha	▲+5	34	10	28
30	But Daddy I Love Him	Taylor Swift	-	30	4	7
31	Cowgirls	Morgan Wallen Featuring ERNEST	▲+11	42	22	31
32	Greedy	Tate McRae	▼-7	25	35	3
33	Type Shit	Future, Metro Boomin, Travis Scott & Playboi Carti	▼-6	27	8	2
34	So Long, London	Taylor Swift	▼-6	28	4	5
35	Agora Hills	Doja Cat	▼-3	32	34	7
36	My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys	Taylor Swift	▼-5	31	4	6
37	Where It Ends	Bailey Zimmerman	▲+8	45	20	32
38	Guilty As Sin?	Taylor Swift	▼-3	35	4	10
39	Boa	Megan Thee Stallion	▲+62	[FRESH]	1	39
40	End Of Beginning	Djo	▼-1	39	13	11
41	Florida!!!	Taylor Swift Featuring Florence + The Machine	▼-8	33	4	8
42	The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived	Taylor Swift	▲+9	51	4	14
43	Gata Only	FloyyMenor X Cris Mj	▲+5	48	9	27
44	Good Luck, Babe!	Chappell Roan	▲+2	46	6	44
45	The Tortured Poets Department	Taylor Swift	▼-7	38	4	4
46	Whatever She Wants	Bryson Tiller	▼-5	41	13	19
47	Wanna Be	GloRilla & Megan Thee Stallion	▼-7	40	6	11
48	Push Ups	Drake	▼-31	17	4	17
49	Texas Hold 'Em	Beyonce	▼-13	36	14	1
50	Slow It Down	Benson Boone	▲+2	52	8	40
51	Redrum	21 Savage	▼-8	43	18	5
52	Carnival	¥$: Ye & Ty Dolla $ign Featuring Rich The Kid & Playboi Carti	▼-3	49	14	1
53	Act II: Date @ 8	4Batz Featuring Drake	▼-6	47	19	7
54	On One Tonight	Gunna	▲+47	[FRESH]	1	54
55	loml	Taylor Swift	▼-2	53	4	12
56	Wild Ones	Jessie Murph & Jelly Roll	▲+1	57	32	35
57	Bulletproof	Nate Smith	▲+7	64	6	57
58	The Alchemy	Taylor Swift	▼-2	56	4	13
59	FE!N	Travis Scott Featuring Playboi Carti	▼-1	58	28	5
60	Prada Dem	Gunna Featuring Offset	▲+41	--	2	54
61	So High School	Taylor Swift	▲+4	65	4	24
62	Whatsapp (Wassam)	Gunna	▲+33	95	2	62
63	Fresh Out The Slammer	Taylor Swift	▼-9	54	4	11
64	Made For Me	Muni Long	▼-9	55	18	20
65	Obsessed	Olivia Rodrigo	▼-6	59	8	14
66	Neck On A Yacht	Gunna	▲+35	[FRESH]	1	66
67	Hakuna Matata	Gunna	▲+34	[FRESH]	1	67
68	Halfway To Hell	Jelly Roll	▲+8	76	6	68
69	Get In With Me	BossMan DLow	▼-8	61	15	49
70	Illusion	Dua Lipa	▼-20	50	5	43
71	Back Then Right Now	Tyler Hubbard	▼-3	68	9	62
72	imgonnagetyouback	Taylor Swift	▼-10	62	4	26
73	Scared To Start	Michael Marcagi	▲+1	74	13	54
74	I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)	Taylor Swift	▼-11	63	4	20
75	La Durango	Peso Pluma, Junior H & Eslabon Armado	▲+26	[FRESH]	1	75
76	Collage	Gunna	▲+25	[FRESH]	1	76
77	Stargazing	Myles Smith	▲+24	[FRESH]	1	77
78	Wildflowers And Wild Horses	Lainey Wilson	▼-18	60	16	48
79	Enough (Miami)	Cardi B	▼-4	75	9	9
80	The Black Dog	Taylor Swift	▼-13	67	4	25
81	Tucson Too Late	Jordan Davis	▼-10	71	11	71
82	Hell N Back	Bakar Featuring Summer Walker	▼-13	69	6	53
83	Clara Bow	Taylor Swift	▼-13	70	4	21
84	Belong Together	Mark Ambor	-	84	3	84
85	Wind Up Missin' You	Tucker Wetmore	▼-5	80	7	75
86	Bandit	Don Toliver	▼-14	72	14	38
87	Si No Quieres No	Luis R Conriquez x Neton Vega	▼-1	86	2	86
88	We Ride	Bryan Martin	▼-6	82	6	82
89	Dirt Cheap	Cody Johnson	▼-6	83	4	83
90	Lose My Breath	Stray Kids Featuring Charlie Puth	▲+11	[FRESH]	1	90
91	Tell Ur Girlfriend	Lay Bankz	▼-25	66	5	58
92	Spin You Around (1/24)	Morgan Wallen	▲+4	96	16	24
93	The Prophecy	Taylor Swift	▼-16	77	4	32
94	Back In The A	Gunna	▲+7	[FRESH]	1	94
95	Outskirts	Sam Hunt	▼-10	85	10	66
96	23	Chayce Beckham	▼-6	90	20	45
97	Wine Into Whiskey	Tucker Wetmore	▼-5	92	8	77
98	How Did It End?	Taylor Swift	▼-17	81	4	35
99	Cinderella	Future, Metro Boomin & Travis Scott	▼-21	78	8	6
100	I Think I'm In Love With You	Chris Stapleton	▲+1	--	2	91

Billboard Global 200 chart (most popular songs globally)

Position	Title	Artist	▲/▼	Last week	Weeks Charting	Peak
1	I Had Some Help	Post Malone Featuring Morgan Wallen	▲+100	[FRESH]	1	1
2	Million Dollar Baby	Tommy Richman	-	2	3	2
3	Not Like Us	Kendrick Lamar	▼-2	1	2	1
4	Espresso	Sabrina Carpenter	▼-1	3	5	2
5	A Bar Song (Tipsy)	Shaboozey	-	5	5	5
6	Beautiful Things	Benson Boone	▲+1	7	17	1
7	Fortnight	Taylor Swift Featuring Post Malone	▼-1	6	4	1
8	Too Sweet	Hozier	▲+1	9	8	1
9	I Like The Way You Kiss Me	Artemas	▼-1	8	8	2
10	Gata Only	FloyyMenor X Cris Mj	-	10	14	4

Billboard 200 chart

Position	Title	Artist	Sales	Change	Last week	Weeks Charting
1	The Tortured Poets Department	Taylor Swift	259,859 (48,177 pure)	-9%	1	4
2	One Of Wun	Gunna	83,467 (933 pure)	--	[FRESH]	1
3	One Thing At A Time	Morgan Wallen	74,765 (1,506 pure)	+4%	3	63
4	We Don't Trust You	Future & Metro Boomin	52,637 (195 pure)	-16%	4	8
5	Dangerous: The Double Album	Morgan Wallen	43,812 (504 pure)	+4%	7	175
6	Stick Season	Noah Kahan	41,404 (4,116 pure)	+2%	9	77
7	SOS	SZA	37,474 (1,716 pure)	-5%	10	75
8	Zach Bryan	Zach Bryan	37,834 (2,804 pure)	+3%	12	38
9	Fireworks & Rollerblades	Benson Boone	35,978 (798 pure)	-4%	11	6
10	Cowboy Carter	Beyonce	35,869 (3,935 pure)	-15%	8	7

Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Why is X artist higher than Y artist on the 200 chart, even though X artist sold less?
A: This is because of a discrepancy between Billboard's ranking and the ranking from the website that the sales data is scraped from
Q: Where do you get the sales data from?
A: https://hitsdailydouble.com/sales_plus_streaming
Q: What does "err" mean on the 200 chart?
A: If you are seeing "err", that means that the bot I use to gather chart data couldn't identify sales data for a particular album because of a difference in album naming between Billboard and HitsDailyDouble

I'm 38 years old, first pregnancy, IVF, 29 weeks, and I am pretty sure I'll never do this again. Yes, I'd do it again if it was for my little boy who I already love so much even in my belly, but I don't want to have a second child, at least not this way.
The first trimester was pretty crappy, but it was just nausea, and what made it really bad was not knowing how long it would last. The 2nd trimester was great. The moment I hit week 28, everything suddenly went downhill. It's as if my belly grew 2 sizes overnight. Walking is torture, and my vagina hurts like hell all the time. I'm always constipated, short of breath and no position, sitting down or laying down, is comfortable. I can't sleep at night. I don't have nausea, but I have this weird aversion towards lots of foods. Eating just never sits right. I'm huge. I was 75kg at the beginning, now I'm probably around 100. No bras fit me, because my boobs aren't super big, so the cup size is still only a B, but even the largest size they have doesn't go around. I feel disgusting and unappealing, like a whale. My husband doesn't want to have sex, which is fine, and I know it's because of the baby, not because he doesn't find me attractive in my current repugnant state, but it still hurts my ego. People keep commenting on how much weight I've put on. I still have 12 weeks to go and I'm worried about what kind of a Tammy Slaton I will turn into by then. Will I need a forklift to get around? All throughout the 2nd trimester, I was really active, hiking, biking, walking my dogs twice a day. Now walking down the block to the store to buy my snacks and be judged is enough to make me cry in pain. I'm sorry, but my vagina literally hurts from walking.
So I'm wondering, have any of you experienced something so bad during your pregnancies, that you actually went and got your tubes tied right after the baby was born? Again, I love this baby, but I feel like there has to be some sort of balance in life, and I also love myself enough not to put my body through this again willingly in the future, especially since I'm not super young anymore. I never struggled with weight gain before, I was always pretty slim and fit. It's not so much an aesthetic preference as that it feels bad to carry around this weight.
This is bad for me, to be clear, I do not mean this to be a fatphobic post! I find all the voluptuous and fat ladies out there who are happy and proud of their bodies incredibly beautiful, and you do you. This is only a problem for me personally. Please try to be understanding and don't rip me apart in the comments....