“Will you look at that,” Captain Yontan marveled from the observation deck. They had arrived in the Solar System at long last, the old bastion of knowledge mankind had abandoned many millennia ago.
“Such a basic tech, yet so beautiful, so… poetic,” Lezlybe uttered, gazing at the constant flux of Sunfire Conduit pulled from the sun to one, two, three relays, and finally to the surface of Pluto, where its energy was being harnessed inside a crater. “And you’re certain that’s where the Ultimate Knowledge is stored?”
“Yes,” Yontan nodded. “Every clue leads to Pluto. Can you imagine? The Ultimate Knowledge, lost for millennia, on this planet out of all places.”
“Ready to descend at your command, captain,” announced Ghenna.
Yontan turned to his crew and smiled. It was the first time they had seen him do that in months. “Hover around the south-south-eastern quadrant of the crater. That’s where the entrance is supposed to be.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Lezlybe’s turned to face the captain, her long black hair swirling around with her.
“Wouldn’t that energy burn us on approach?”
“It might be basic tech, but not that basic, Lez,” said Yontan. “It’s safe up to a distance of 100 meters. Don’t underestimate the intelligence of our ancestors because they built this thing in the distant past. They were as smart as us. Smarter even, in certain aspects, I’m sure.”
“Found the entrance, captain,” said Ghenna. It was a pale peach colored door built on the craterside.
“Land near it, wherever it’s stable.”
“Yes, Sir!”
The ship touched down next to the Hollis Crater. Yontan and four others suited up and left the craft. Before heading for the door, the team stopped to gaze at the Sunfire Conduit from their position. It went up, up, up as far as the eye could see.
Jmerr was awestruck.
“I can’t believe we’re able to look at it with basic sun visors. Do you think our ancestors purposefully designed it like that?”
“Of course,” said Yontan, mesmerized by the spiraling blaze swooshing down the crater. “Aesthetics have always been important, especially since it used to be connected to three planets, two dwarf planets, and eight moons. Many renown painters have depicted the Conduits in their art. Although no physical portraits survived, their works have been well documented over hundreds of books.”
Lezlybe approached Jmerr and put her hand over his shoulder.
“I kind of wish we could hear its thunderous sound. I imagine it’d be a satisfying swoosh, kind of like a blowtorch.”
“You’d be deaf before you’d hear a thing,” laughed Yontan. “We’re speaking of extremely powerful jets coming from a star, after all. I can’t wait to see why they’re pulling so much energy on such a small planet. It’s totally excessive in my view.”
“Maybe it’s not,” said Lezlybe. “Especially if the Ultimate Knowledge is behind this door.”
The team approached the door, a small black panel to its side. Yontan placed a round device on top and, seconds later, it retracted into the ground.
“A Grampus?” frowned Jmerr, even though no one could see his face behind the visor. “Why do you use this old AI?”
“Because I don’t know the code,” explained Yontan as they stepped inside a long hall. “So I brought this device with me to crack the password. Don’t forget that this here is also old tech. Newer devices could break something.” He glanced over his shoulder at the wide-open entryway with the ship not too far behind. “But it looks like the Grampus broke it anyway since it doesn’t slide shut.”
At the end of the wide turquoise hall, another door was easily popped open with Yontan’s device. This time, however, the heavy door closed shut when the last person stepped in.
“I hope we’re not trapped in this small room,” gulped Lezlybe.
“Don’t worry, we can ask someone on board to cut it open if needed,” said Yontan. “After all we –”
PSHHHHHHHH
A burst of gas sprayed them from all sides, followed by a shower of heavy liquid. A few moments after it stopped, the door in front of them opened, and a gentle male voice greeted them.
“Welcome to U.K. ONE. The current air pressure is at 101.3 kilopascals, with a temperature of 22.4 degrees Celsius and a humidity level set at 60% RH.”
The voice then proceeded to inform them about the room’s condition among other sets of data.
“I see. We were inside a basic decompression chamber,” muttered Jmerr.
The tallest crewmate, Lessandre, popped his helmet off and took a deep breath.
“Ah, historical fresh air,” he boomed, looking around the oval room. “It brings a tear to my eye.”
“What are you doing?” Yontan shouted. “We don’t know what particles or microorganisms could linger in here.”
“Relax, captain. Tyche analyzed the air and told me it’s fine. Why don’t you all retract your visors and experience this multimillennial-old air? You’ll never have the chance to do that again, you know.”
Yontan checked with his own version of his AI, Tyche, and everything seemed to be fine, so he retracted the visor of his helmet as well, just in time to scratch an itch on his beard. The rest of the crew followed, except for Jmerr.
“Come on, Jmerr. It’s a unique experience, my friend,” beamed Lessandre, tapping on his shoulder.
Jmerr scowled at Lessandre. “I refuse to take unnecessary risks.”
“As you wish,” Lessandre grinned, loudly sniffing the air. “Ahhh. The air in here is exceptionally… how to describe it?”
“Dusty?” Lezlybe chimed in. “I think the auto-clean on the filter stopped working long ago.”
Yontan was ignoring his crew, inspecting the walls of this oval room for clues. But the room was pretty much empty, outside of the air conditioning holes and lights flickering on the ceiling.
“I know there’s another door on the other side of the crater, but that one’s the entrance to the accumulator and workspaces,” he muttered to himself, caressing the wall in the hopes of finding a button or a gap of sorts.
“Is that place also turquoise?” asked Lessandre. “I really hate this color. Reminds me too much of my ex.”
Lezlybe rolled her eyes.
“Then why don’t we go there?” asked Ghenna, who had closed her visor since she didn’t like the smell.
“Because,” began Yontan absent-mindedly while brushing his hands over the wall, “every document points to this place. We’ll check the other site if we don’t find anything here. Now if only I – aha! A button. This might be it.”
Yontan pushed it with his finger. Instead of clicking, like any other button would, his index finger sank completely in. He immediately withdrew it, fearing something might cut his finger off. But the button came back, except it was now white and protruded out of the wall. Yontan hesitantly pressed it.
An oval pedestal emerged from the middle of the floor, gradually rising until it reached chest height. The left side slid open with melodious clicks, and out came a small table with a round black object on it with a sky-blue center. Before they had the time to guess what it was, a hologram rose from it, displaying the head of an old balding man with a lazy eye.
“Greetings, future humans,” said the feeble voice. “And welcome to K.U. ONE. What is your purpose here?”
Yontan glanced at his crew, who gave him a nod and shrugs. He cleared his throat and spoke clearly, “We’ve come here to gain access to the Ultimate Knowledge, which is said to contain the answers to our purpose within the universe.”
“I see. And you are one, two, five. Oh! That is good news, good news indeed. I’ve been waiting for you. Well, not me per se, since I’m long dead, I suppose,” the hologram laughed, “but my digital image. And five? Oh, proof that nothing happens at random.”
Yontan was slightly taken aback.
“Wait. You’re not a simple recording?”
“No, no. I’m enhanced with artificial intelligence. It speaks as I would speak, saying what I asked it to say – with a bit of panache. Now, move to the other side of the pedestal. It will pop open and contain a box.”
The other side popped open, displaying a silver box embossed with gold on the edges. It was beautiful. Lessandre grabbed it and tried to pry it open.
“Tut-tut! You need the key to open the box. I’ll hand it over only of you accept to eat its contents.”
“Eat it?” Yontan uttered in excitement. “Will it alter our brains? Give us the knowledge we yearn for?”
“Not quite. But it is a necessary step.”
“I won’t touch it,” Jmerr stated firmly. “I don’t trust this man. Whatever’s inside, it’s been in there for thousands of years. There’s no way it’s still edible.”
“Oh but it is,” grinned the man. “What do you think the Sunfire Conduit is used for?”
“What?” uttered Lezlybe. “The power of the sun used for… food?”
“Of course, there’s more to it. But a lot of energy is necessary to cool it down to near zero kelvin and keep it that way until it’s very slowly reheated to the ideal temperature for you to savor.
“Now, will you eat its contents or not?”
“Why don’t we bring it back to the ship and study it?” suggested Jmerr.
“The moment you leave the room with the box, its contents will be destroyed, and so will the key to Ultimate Knowledge.”
Yontan exchanged a glance with his crew. Lessandre gave him thumbs up, Ghenna nodded and Lezlybe shrugged. Jmerr was the only one to firmly shake his head.
“Fine, we’ll eat its contents,” said Yontan, upon which Jmerr put his hands up in the air in frustration.
A key appeared from the front of the pedestal. Yonan used it to open the box Lessandre was holding. Five dark-brown spherical objects were neatly placed within fitting molds, resembling the five dots on a die.
“Behold the Five Orbs of Knowledge,” the hologram said solemnly. “I recommend one for each of you.”
Jmerr crossed his arms. “There’s no way I’m touching this.”
“What if someone eats two?” asked Yontan, eyeing Jmerr.
“It would sadden me, even though it might be beneficial to grasp the Ultimate Knowledge.”
Without hesitation, Lessandre popped the middle one in his mouth. Every other crewmate was staring at him. A few bites in, he suddenly froze, eyes wide open. His gaze slowly shifted from Yontan, to Lezlybe, to Ghenna – whose visor was now lowered – and finally stopped on Jmerr.
“Awl eash ‘em bofh,” he rapidly chewed, popping a second one in. “Awl eash ‘em owl ihf you guysh downt.”
Yontan’s hand was shaking as he picked his Orb. Lezlybe and Ghenna also chose one.
“On the count of three,” gulped Yontan, as he noticed the horrified look on Jmerr. “One… two… three!”
The shell of the Orb had a slight crunch, with a rather soft, creamy inner core, gently melting on their tongue. Sweet with a zest of bitterness. Each bite, each movement of their tongue was another moment they savored, dreading the end of this unique flavor. It was an explosion of exoticism, a sensory overload inside their mouth; the richness of the Orb filled their taste buds and souls alike with pure bliss.
Then there was the aroma, dissolving the dusty odor of the room with its arboraceous perfume. It reminded them of Terrestrial woods, now planted across various planets in the Milky Way. Comforting, ancient, nostalgic, and so raw at heart.
Fortunately, this jolly adventure didn’t end after they swallowed it, no, each residue, sticking to the various corners of their mouths, lingered like a fleeting memory soon to disappear forever. Yet it was still there, to grasp with the palm of their hands. But when they tried to, it became vapor, dwindling, yet etched in their brains with such strength it would be impossible to ever forget this moment. Ever.
Their minds were still floating on a cloud of ecstasy when Yontan stared at Lessandre.
“You ate two,” he breathed. “And you,” he turned to Jmerr, “you have no idea what you’ve just missed. It’s… indescribably delectable.” Yontan faced the hologram. “Please, give us one more, for Jmerr. He has to try this… Orb.”
The hologram grinned widely, creasing the old man’s entire face.
“These were the last five. There are no more.”
“WHAT?” everyone shouted at once.
“Th– that’s it? No more?” Yontan’s shoulder slumped. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve taken it back to the ship and try to recreate it.”
“It’s impossible without the recipe.”
“A recipe? Give it to us, I don’t care about Ultimate Knowledge anymore,” Lessandre laughed.
“But you had two,” Lezlybe scowled.
“And I want more,” he chuckled. “I’ve never felt better in my life. Even two were far too few!”
“Yes, hand us the recipe so we can share it with the rest of the crew,” pleaded Yontan.
The hologram seemed more and more pleased with itself.
“Even if I gave you the recipe you couldn’t make it when the main ingredient’s missing.”
“What’s the main ingredient?” Ghenna asked.
“Cacao. And these were chocolate truffles, which I made myself utilizing the very last cacao beans to ever exist. I’m sorry. You’ll never eat chocolate ever again.”
Jmerr seemed disappointed upon hearing it, especially after seeing how everyone reacted to it.
“B – but… why?” Yontan asked. “Why offer us a delicious treat only to punch us in the gut right after?”
The hologram smiled. “Think. What is your purpose here?”
“To acquire Ultimate Knowledge… But I fail to understand…”
“If my clock is correct, 3622 years have passed since the last human – which is myself – set wheels in this room. 3622 years of technological advancement, of accumulated mastery of various sciences and understanding of the universe. Yet you believe Ultimate Knowledge is to be found in the past?”
The crewmembers looked at each other, dumbfounded.
“So… it doesn’t exist?” suggested Lezlybe. “We’ve come this far for nothing…”
“Haven’t you just experienced the ultimate delicacy of humankind? Therein lies everything you need to know.”
“It’s not about the knowledge,” began Yontan, “but about the experience we savor?”
“Exactly!” Clapping hands appeared in front of the hologram’s face. “Instead of looking for something that may not be, learn to cherish the transient nature of existence through every experience you encounter. Who knows what happens once you’re dead? Constant hesitation leads to a life of lost opportunities. One of you has learned this lesson the hard way, I’m afraid. However, the tall man over there has greatly benefited from this lesson. Balance in all things!”
“No data is ever lost,” snorted Jmerr scornfully. “Death is simply the temporary loss of information until it’s retrieved.”
“The no-hiding theorem,” smiled the hologram. “Of course. But you wouldn’t be here if you could completely determine the state of the entire universe. Thus, my rhetoric stays valid. For as long as this is beyond our grasp – likely until humanity’s extinction – you ought to cherish every experience and lose your fear of consequences within reason.”
The room went silent, the subtle taste of chocolate still lingering in their mouths like the fading words of an old love letter.
“What do we do now, captain?” Ghenna asked shyly.
“Take your new-found knowledge and share it with others,” the hologram said before Yontan could open his mouth.
“So… there really is nothing else here?”
“Nothing at all.”
The hologram fluttered for a moment.
“Were these really the last pieces of chocolate?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you eat them yourself?”
“Because sharing is the quintessential attribute of humanity. And I’m glad to have contributed my part, even though it took several millennia.”
“So why use all that energy from the sun?” asked Lezlybe.
“It’s twofold,” said the hologram. “Partially to keep this chocolate in pristine state, as I said before. You’ll understand the second reason soon enough. Let’s say it’s a parting gift, for that man who hasn’t eaten his Orb.”
“I don’t understand.” Yontan was running his fingers through his hair. “You speak of sharing, yet we won’t be able to share this exquisite experience. There’s no chocolate left.”
“Share the wisdom you’ve acquired. Or perhaps you shall find something unique to share with others as I did. Even the stories of your adv–”
The man disappeared for a few seconds.
“–entures – Ah? We’ve been cut. Soon I shall be free, just like your minds. Swiftly return to your ships, and sail t–”
It flickered again and stopped for nearly ten seconds.
“–he vast empty space to… wherever your heart leads you. Farewell. Fare well indeed.”
The hologram zoomed out to show an old man sitting on a wheelchair, waving both hands. It flickered one last time before completely fading out with a hum.
Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from everyone’s earpiece.
“Captain, is everything all right?” asked one of the crew left on the ship in a panic.
“Why? Did the entrance crumble down?”
“No, Sir. It’s the Conduit. You need to see this for yourself.”
The crew put on their visors and hurried out of the room, through the hallway, out on the freezing surface of Pluto. They gasped upon staring up.
“The Conduit!” Ghenna uttered.
It was oscillating, slowly shrinking until the last flames swooshed back and forth from the relay to the crater, and then, it retracted entirely.
“It’s… it’s gone…” sighed Yontan.
“The parting gift,” Jmerr sobbed. “He knew. He knew someone might not try out the chocolate truffle, and he purposefully shut down the entire system.”
Lessandre turned to Jmerr. “Consider this your incredible experience. We must be the only humans to ever see this happen in real time.”
“But we can reconnect it, unlike the chocolate, can’t we?” said Lizlybe.
Yontan shook his head. “Do you know of the ancient pyramids in the northern African continent?”
“Yeah…” she hesitated. “Vaguely.”
“Do you know why they’ve never been rebuilt?”
Lezlybe shrugged.
“Because there’s nothing to gain in doing so.” He pointed his finger at the vast expanse above him. “We’ve never rebuilt the ancient pyramids – not due to complexity, but due to loss of time and resources involved without any actual benefit. I’m afraid this is the last time anyone has admired this old tech at work.”
Upon their return on the ship, they told the rest of the crew what inside the U.K. ONE.
“So the Ultimate Knowledge doesn’t exist?” one of the crewmember asked.
Yontan took one last glance at the crater as the ship took off.
“I believe it does,” he beamed, looking at the bemused faces of his crew. “Not here.” He gently tapped his temple. “But here.” His hand rested on his chest. “And there.” His arms were wide open, as if trying to embrace his whole crew at once. “Acquired wisdom is the Ultimate Knowledge. And the ability to share experiences with others is our greatest gift.”

Warm-Up Routines for Badminton Players
Effective warm-up routines are essential for badminton players to prevent injuries, enhance performance, and ensure that their bodies are prepared for the intense physical demands of the game. Here, we outline a comprehensive warm-up routine that includes general exercises for badminton players and sport-specific movements to get you ready for the court.
Why Warm-Up is Important
Warming up increases blood flow to muscles, improves flexibility, and primes the nervous system for the physical activity ahead. For badminton players, a well-structured warm-up helps in improving reaction times, agility, and overall performance on the court. Additionally, it reduces the risk of injuries such as strains, sprains, and muscle tears, which are common in high-intensity sports like badminton.
Components of a Good Warm-Up Routine
A thorough warm-up routine for badminton players should consist of the following components:

1. General Aerobic Exercise
2. Dynamic Stretching
3. Sport-Specific Drills
4. Mental Preparation

Let's break down each component in detail.
1. General Aerobic Exercise
Start with light aerobic exercises to increase your heart rate and blood flow to your muscles. This phase should last about 5-10 minutes and can include activities such as:
- Jogging: A light jog around the court or in place helps to gradually raise your heart rate. - Skipping Rope: This is particularly beneficial for badminton players as it mimics the quick, explosive movements required in the game. - Cycling: If you have access to a stationary bike, 5 minutes of moderate cycling can effectively warm up your lower body muscles.
2. Dynamic Stretching
Dynamic stretching involves moving parts of your body and gradually increasing reach, speed of movement, or both. It prepares the muscles and joints for the specific movements of badminton. Here are some dynamic stretches tailored for badminton players:
- Leg Swings: Stand on one leg and swing the other leg forward and backward, then side to side. This helps to loosen the hip flexors, hamstrings, and adductors. - Arm Circles: Extend your arms to the sides and make small circles, gradually increasing to larger circles. This warms up the shoulder joints, which are crucial for overhead shots. - Torso Twists: Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and twist your torso from side to side, keeping your hips stable. This exercise warms up the core muscles and the lower back.
3. Sport-Specific Drills
After general aerobic exercises and dynamic stretching, move on to sport-specific drills. These drills should mimic the movements you'll be performing during the game, allowing your body to become accustomed to the intensity and types of movements required.
- Shadow Badminton: Without a shuttlecock, perform all the different shots like smashes, clears, drives, and drops as if you were playing a real game. This helps to warm up your muscles and joints while also focusing on footwork and technique. - Footwork Drills: Practice your footwork patterns such as the front-back movement, side-to-side shuffles, and the split-step. Good footwork is essential for reaching the shuttlecock efficiently. - Reaction Drills: Have a partner point in different directions, and you must react quickly and move accordingly. This enhances your reaction time and agility.
4. Mental Preparation
While physical preparation is critical, mental readiness is equally important. Take a few minutes to mentally prepare yourself for the game:
- Visualization: Visualize yourself executing perfect shots and winning points. Positive visualization can enhance performance and build confidence. - Deep Breathing: Practice deep breathing exercises to calm your nerves and focus your mind. Inhale deeply through your nose, hold for a moment, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
Putting It All Together
Here’s a sample warm-up routine for badminton players:
1. General Aerobic Exercise (5-10 minutes) - 3 minutes of jogging or skipping rope - 2 minutes of cycling or brisk walking
2. Dynamic Stretching (5-10 minutes) - 1 minute of leg swings (30 seconds each leg) - 1 minute of arm circles (30 seconds forward, 30 seconds backward) - 1 minute of torso twists - 1 minute of lunges with a twist (30 seconds each side) - 1 minute of high knees or butt kicks
3. Sport-Specific Drills (10-15 minutes) - 5 minutes of shadow badminton - 5 minutes of footwork drills - 5 minutes of reaction drills
4. Mental Preparation (3-5 minutes) - 2 minutes of visualization - 1-2 minutes of deep breathing
Conclusion An effective warm-up routine is an essential part of the training regimen for badminton players. Incorporating a combination of general aerobic exercises, dynamic stretching, sport-specific drills, and mental preparation ensures that players are physically and mentally ready for the game. By following these exercises for badminton players, you can improve your performance, reduce the risk of injury, and enhance your overall enjoyment of the sport.

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

This goes for almost any type of fiction but it's crazy how someone will have broken ribs and a separated shoulder might just whince in pain for a few seconds before just fighting as usual because the aesthetics of being hurt are more important than actually showing to the audience the real gravity of damage.
For example if someone were to break ribs or tear a rotator cuff they'd have trouble breathing, they wouldn't be able to lift their arms for like 6 months, they wouldn't be able to sleep at night as well etc. But in fiction nope, everything is just a scar that heals in 2 seconds and that you could just tough your way through, oh and after the fight you get a life refresh so nothing ever lingers.
In anime the example that's more common would be fire and slashes. Considering that most anime battles are made up of bouncy house physics it's fine if you want to ignore realism to some extent but it's funny how slashes and fire rarely if ever do any damage unless said character needs a redesign and then all of a sudden it'll inflict absolute damage that might substitute as unearned character development.
I just wish that damage was treated as something more realistic that can affect the story in more ways than just trying to show feats or how much of a "alpha" someone is.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I heard the words that shattered my world. You betrayed me. You looked at me with a smirk and said, "Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?" I couldn't believe it. How could you do this to me? How could you turn your back on me after everything we've been through? A single tear fell from my eye, and you noticed. "Oh... oh, don't cry..." You said, but not with kindness. With mockery. You reached for my face, but I flinched away. You grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. I saw an old photo of us on the table, smiling and happy. We looked so innocent and pure. I cried harder, remembering the good times we had. You snatched the photo from my hands and tore it up. You threw the pieces in my face and said, "It's over! Our friendship has ended!" I sobbed, feeling the pieces of my heart breaking along with the photo. I did nothing but trust you…. I cried, trying to find some explanation for your actions. You laughed and said, "And I did nothing but break that trust. And I don't regret a damn thing." You looked at me with contempt and said, "... you are not the Ralsei I know and love! You're just an impostor pretending to be him." You wiped your mouth and said, "Hey, hey, no need to cry over something that's over. I'm the Dark Prince now. And if you think I still have a heart..." You slapped me across the face, hard. I felt a sting and a bruise forming. "I hate you." You spat. "Do you think that hurts me? The only thing that hurts are your tears. You disgust me." You turned around and walked away. "Ugh, whatever. If you can't handle a betrayal, why did you trust me in the first place?" You said over your shoulder. I looked down, feeling numb and empty. You sighed and said, "...look, you were just so loyal. You were trusting me unconditionally, like I couldn't possibly hurt you. That's the only thing that makes me feel bad." You sounded almost sincere, but I knew it was a lie. "Ugh." You said, annoyed. I let out a whimper, and more tears fell. You shouted, "Dammit, I told you to stop crying!" You sighed again and said, "Look. Just... forget about me. I don't wanna see you again. I don't want anything to do with you." You started walking away, leaving me alone and broken. I just stood there, unable to move or speak. You sighed one last time and turned around. You looked at me with pity and said, "You're so sensitive, and I just hate seeing you like this. Just... please stop crying." You said softly, as if you cared. But I knew you didn't. You turned away and walked out of my life. I whispered, "I just miss the old you, that's all." But you didn't hear me. You didn't care. You were gone. And I was left with nothing but pain and tears.
I'll always treasure the memories we made, even though you're gone now. I may never fully recover from losing you, but I'll never forget you. Goodbye, Ralsei.

Chapter 1
Mors
An endless void, silence interlaid with its pitch-darkness, greeted an injured man. No light can be seen, sensations be damned, and consciousness spread thin as though taut in this incomprehensive expanse that laid before him.
Callum fell into the abyss, his mind the only thing left to accompany him. He hasn’t even counted the minutes as his mind is plagued by something else. He never considered himself a man of interest, only scraping by with his odd jobs and part-time salaries, hence why he couldn’t understand his current situation.
Betrayal is something that he is familiar with, whether it be a betrayal of his expectations when a co-worker broke his promise or a betrayal of his emotions when his first love interest cheated on him back in uni. However, this betrayal orchestrated by his best friend whom he’d known for 5 years, and girlfriend for 8 years felt more gut-wrenching than the pain he felt from the stab.
Denial was the first thing that stormed his mind. He couldn’t believe that the two closest people in his life would stab him in the back, literally. There was no build-up, he didn’t suspect a thing, and everything was normal until he found steel in his flesh.
He rejected the notion that his girlfriend, Catherine, would betray him like this, an accomplice to a murder that he can’t grasp the motive of. He has built up some savings, but it isn’t something that would be worth murdering someone for, especially after buying that ring.
He dismissed the thought of Jake being jealous of their relationship as he couldn’t see the guy doing something as stupid as this. He can’t form any rhyme or reason as to why they would do it, and the only possible explanation is that this was all a dream and he was actually still sleeping inside the tent.
But as he waited for himself to wake from this nightmare, only darkness greeted him. He had tried moving his body in this sea of blackness, but the movement only felt like going through molasses with tired arms, which is why he attributed this as being only a dream that he would wake up from, which appeared to be wrong as he waited and waited.
Anxiety crept in as he tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips. He strained his voice to be heard, yet he can't even hear himself. No light adorned this place, no wind to be heard, and he couldn’t feel anything even though he tried feeling himself.
The pain in his back was forgotten as he tried and tried to move, to scream, to flail senselessly, amounting to nothing as he was greeted by nothing.
Feeling anything in this void is something impossible, and the only thing that he can do is return to his mindscape.
He went back to his oldest memories, back to a time when everything felt oppressive and suffocating. Callum was born into a broken family. His mother and father had gone through a divorce when he was only 6 years old. He could still remember the screaming and yelling of his parents whenever night fell in their sorry state of an apartment.
His father, Eric, having not finished his education after Callum’s birth, has been living as a blue-collar worker in downtown New Jersey. Even during his day-offs, he can’t seem to find rest as he goes to do odd jobs and part-time work to stay afloat. On the other hand, his mother would leave him, a toddler, alone in the apartment.
He remembered her putting CDs in a DVD player so that it could keep his attention on a cartoon that his father introduced him to. If he had anything to describe his mother, she would be irresponsible and narcissistic. She would sometimes bring guys over to their apartment, threatening Callum with divorce if he ever told Eric about it, hence why it took several years until his dad caught on and filed for a divorce.
Eric was determined to take Callum with him, he argues that he could take care of his child better than Callum’s mother. But his mother and her twisted pride can’t let go of Callum, which leads to a legal dispute between the two.
The court hearings went on for several months, with each passing day being a lot more hellish for Callum. He was subjected to further insults by his mother as she knew that leaving bruises on her child would lower her chances of winning over the court to her side. Sometimes, she would go as far as manipulate him, gaslighting him into believing that she was a good mother who would take care of him better than his father. But after seeing that the court favors Eric’s side more, his mother took drastic measures to satisfy her wounded pride.
It was the second to the last day of the court hearing, and it was during this time that his father was working overtime. Callum had just gone home from his elementary school, feeling tired as he hauled his bag over his shoulders up the multiple flights of stairs he had to climb to get to their apartment.
As he neared his home, he steeled himself and opened the door, only to be met with overturned tables and broken ceramics. He walked quietly through the scene, afraid that someone might hear him entering his home. Looking back on it now, Calum can’t help himself but laugh at his stupidity. He could have gone and alerted their neighbors, or gone back downstairs to wait for his father, but being a child, Callum doesn’t know what to do.
As he entered his room, he saw black words spray painted on the walls, the meaning eluding him as he didn’t know what it meant since he was 7 at the time, but remembering it now sent shivers down his spine.
The words “This is what you get!” on a torn wallpaper are ingrained in his mind. Seeing the manic letters sprayed over the walls gave Callum anxiety, taking a few steps back towards the open front door of their apartment. Escape was now on his mind as he grew scared of what was to come, something that was far too late as he heard his mother behind him.
It was there that everything turned into a blur. He remembered snippets of yelling and crying both from himself and his mother. He remembered his mother forcing something down his throat. He remembered his father coming home early that day and restraining his mother, a crazy look in her eyes. He remembered the feeling of nausea and the floor colored with his lunch. And he remembered the sirens, red and blue lights dancing in his vision as he was carried to a stretcher. The last thing he remembered was his father crying, holding his hands tightly when he opened his tired eyes.
For the next few days, he learned from the news that his mother attempted a double suicide. The story goes, after losing the custody battle, the mother planned to take revenge by ending the lives of both her child and herself. They said that he got lucky as the neighbors had contacted Eric when his mother turned their home upside down, relating it to a possible home invasion. If not for him, Callum would have died from nicotine poisoning after his mother forced tobacco down his gullet, a morbid story that he uses as a joke during his time at work.
He remembered being inside that hospital for days on end, his body recovering from the poison his mother left him with, and his father was there almost every day even though he had to work to pay the hospital bills. After what felt like forever was he allowed to be discharged, going back to the same refurbished apartment that they lived in, but after seeing how Callum had recurring nightmares and trauma attached to the place, they decided to move to Pennsylvania. A hard decision that needed to be made as his father would put it.
Everything after the whole incident was better for Callum. His father got a job as a mover, still doing some part-time work here and there, and Callum did his best in school so as not to burden his father with more work. Even though they lived in a rundown shack handed to them by one of the locals, they didn’t mind as they knew that getting to live at all was better than what they had before.
Callum smiled in the abyss as he reminisced about his time with his father. He was a great man, a good role model for anyone who came across him. He is kind-hearted and considerate, a hard worker that makes him popular among his peers. It was them that helped move him and his father out of New Jersey and found them a place to sleep in, teaching Callum that socializing and connecting with like-minded people goes a long way when someone needs it.
For the next few years, Callum lived happily. Though there were some ups and downs, he and his father got through it, which is why the memory of his time in university was depressing.
Eric, after having saved some money, gave Callum the go-ahead to enroll in a university in California. But after attaining an athletic scholarship in football, Callum gave his father a surprise to ease his worries and stress. Callum felt bad every time he saw his father work, hence why he tried his hardest to take some of that workload to give him a break. With the tuition being lowered with the scholarship, Callum could give the rest of the money back to his dad. A gesture that was fully gratified as his father had a hard time letting him go when the time came to move over to the university. But it was during this time that tragedy struck.
It was his fourth year in studying anthropology when he heard the news from one of his father’s friends, Robby. After hearing it, he grew distressed and worried, taking a lot of convincing from Robby to keep Callum from moving back to Pennsylvania.
His father has gone missing. The news had spread amongst his co-workers and friends, and a search team was already being dispatched to find him. Even though Callum tried to keep his focus on studying, he couldn’t help but feel agitated as days went by without news of his father being seen. His mental state plummeted, and he grew withdrawn from reality as days turned to weeks, his father still gone.
He could still remember the times when he locked himself in the school’s library, searching the web to find any news or reports of his father's whereabouts, but as he searched for days on end, only one thing kept popping up from the newsletters. His father, Eric Hurst Foster, went missing in his own home. There were no struggles in the house, the CCTV didn’t see him on any of the roads or stores in the town they lived in, he just seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The news ate away at Callum, and his friends that he’d made during the time gave their support to keep him from spiraling out of control. However, even with their support, Callum’s worries over his dad never went away, hence why he threw himself into work. Going to part-time jobs and studying is the only way to keep his mind from blowing. He did this until he finished university and found a job to stay afloat.
This went on for years until he’s come to accept that his father may never be found. With nothing to ground him in their old home, he decided to explore the world, thinking that one day, he might find a lead to the whereabouts of his dad.
Months turned to years as he worked tirelessly in multiple jobs. From being a mechanic, electrician, cook, waiter, and many more to count, Callum went on a work frenzy. He made a plan to scour the states as a freelancer, living in his BMW pick-up truck that was given to him by one of his friends. He stayed in each state for a few months, meeting new people and making some friends along the way. They sent their well wishes to Callum as they knew that he was still trying to find his missing father.
Years went by as he made his way back to California. He had gone and explored every state, and yet no news of his father came to light. The case had gone cold, and it was up to Callum to find any clues to this mystery. His mind has told him to give up the search, and multiple friends have given him consolation as they knew that his father would never be found, but Callum persevered.
It was during this time that he found himself as a mover, the same job that his father had before he disappeared. He had just come back to California after getting the job, and he was about to go check in for his first day when a sudden downpour of rain covered the skies of the city. It was only coincidental that he was near that coffee shop, and it was coincidental that only two customers were present there. He and his future girlfriend turned accomplice to his murder.
The rest of his memories went by as he continued to float in the abyss. From the time of their first years in a relationship to meeting Jake for the first time in that apartment to when he taught PE and History in a school in Minnesota. Everything went by as Callum went from one memory to another until he felt something.
A chill ran down his spine as an indescribable dread manifested in his mind. He knew not why he felt this way, and he felt himself tearing at the seams as a slit of light showed itself in the void. He was then pulled into the light, senses coming back after he spent his time in the abyss for what felt like days. And with a flash, he is back in the same hunched-over position he was in when he was stabbed in the back.
Callum can’t help but laugh as he finally could see again. Trees surrounded his vision, with wild grass carpeting the ground. But before he could truly see the world, he felt a sharp pain in his back. With his body remembering that he was injured, he felt himself sweat profusely as he bled, painting the flowers under him red. And yet he didn’t panic.
After all that time reminiscing, he finally gave in and let death come to him. He fell on his back, sending another wave of pain coursing through his body, cursing under his breath as he regretted not laying himself down slowly. And as he looked to the sky, he felt himself getting colder and colder.
Callum felt at peace as he stared at the clouds above him. The sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves helped him come to terms that he was truly dying. He’d thought about death a lot. During his time when he was a kid, and when he was depressed after his father went missing. But the peace he felt for only a few moments as emotions came crashing down.
He felt himself tear up as he came to terms with his current situation. He would never have a chance to marry the girl in his life. He would never have a chance to have his own children and see them grow. He would never have a chance to be a father. And he would never have a chance to grow old with the people he loved around him.
As he thought of these things, the floodgates opened. Streams of tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in his dying state. He could only put his hands over his eyes to stop it from flowing, an action that felt challenging as his body became fatigued from all the blood loss. The crying only hastened his death as he felt his breath escape him, his lungs labored and filled with blood as the stab had punctured it.
Minutes went by as Callum felt himself grow tired and tired. And as he closed his eyes, Callum’s heart slowed and slowed as his body has a lack of blood to pump. His breathing grew shallower with each second until his body gave way and stopped altogether.
Callum died at the age of 34, stabbed in the back by his best friend with his girlfriend being an accomplice for his murder. He died from blood loss as his body colored the ground red.
Callum waited and waited to feel his consciousness fade as he welcomed death to greet him. And as the second grew…
'…Wait.'
His consciousness never faded away.

CHAPTER 261 LEAKS:
After the battle, everyone was dead except for Yuji Itadori. He was on his knees, left hopeless as he looks at their graves, he had to put them by hand, and so Todo held on to his shoulder, sobbing along with Yuji.
"THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR JUJUTSU KAISEN!"
•Yuji yelled in denial as he broke down in the floor, he wept and tears fell out his eyes. He sniffles and wipes his eyes and stood up, walking away with Todo. It was a very sad day but until.. Gojo's ghost appeared, laughing.
"I fingered A minor!"
•Gojo stated with joy, he did not specify whether it was a kid or just a note in a piano. Yuji looked back and stared at Gojo, still sobbing. As Yuji's tear drop on Gojo's grave a chain reaction suddenly happened, everyone was in their physical body alive and well.
"Don't worry Yuji! the Jujutsu Kaisen will never die!"
•Everyone said in unison, smiling happily, Yuji sobbed even more and this time he was happy, he couldnt believe the sight of this.
"B-But Uncle Sukuna.."
"Brat, I'm alive.'
•It came from Yuji's back, it was Sukuna! His smile was in joy and not murderous intent, hell even Go and Jo was celebrating.
THE END!

This might be long, I apologize. I’ll add a TDLR at the end.
Background: I’ve (39F) been with my husband (49m) for nearly 9 years. We’ve been through a lot including several health issues on my part (cancer) and we managed to come out the other side. In February, we had a huge argument (we rarely fight - maybe twice a year max) and he said that he was unhappy in our relationship due to lack of sex and affection from me. So I talked things through with my therapist and worked extremely hard to rectify the situation. Since then, our sex life has improved greatly (usually 4+ times a week) and we are 100x more affectionate with each other. I feel I have put in a lot of work to make things better, but now I’m feeling as if I’m the ONLY one putting in the work.
Here’s what happened. I have anxiety/panic disorder. It’s mostly controlled by meds and therapy and I rarely have panic attacks anymore. For some reason, I was feeling upset and uneasy tonight. I cuddled up next to my husband in bed, hoping he’d hold me which helps with the uneasiness. He draped his arm around my shoulders and immediately started acting like he was falling asleep. I asked him if he could hold me, hug me, and kiss my forehead like he usually does when we go to bed and cuddle. He gets irritated and says he doesn’t want to have sex. I say it’s not about having sex, that I’m having a hard time and I need the affection. He starts to get angry, says he was holding me and what more do I want? So I explain again: he only had his arm draped over me, I needed to be held and snuggled and to feel loved as I was feeling upset. I don’t know WHY I was feeling this way, anxiety/panic isn’t always logical.
He starts to get really irritated and I start crying. Tears are dripping down my face as the anxiety takes hold. He keeps saying, “Oh my God” and “What do you want from me?” I keep trying to explain that I wanted some actual affection from him, that I’m having anxiety and could use some comfort. I told him that I was feeling rejected and unloved because I asked him for affection and all he could say was, “I don’t want to have sex”. That when he told me he needed something in our relationship, I did whatever I could to give it to him and I just needed to be held in this moment. By now I’m sobbing and shaking and he’s mad because I’m crying and keeping him awake. He makes a comment like, “Fine, let’s just stay up all night fighting and I’ll crash the car tomorrow from lack of sleep!” He also makes a comment about how he’s so awful and everything is his fault and he’s a horrible person. He makes a comment about possibly breaking up/separating. At this point, I can barely talk, I’m sobbing and shaking and just a mess. He’s making me feel guilty for asking him for affection. I’m confused because all I want is a hug and for him to tell me everything will be ok and he’s acting so harsh with me. I’m struggling HARD to get the anxiety under control. I beg him to please hold me while I cry and he grudgingly puts his arms around me. As soon as I get my crying under control, he rolls over and goes to sleep.
Now, I’m just laying in bed and feeling bitterly disappointed. I needed him and was in a vulnerable spot and all he did was treat me with disdain and contempt.
Am I overreacting for feeling upset that he made no actual effort to comfort me when I needed it?
TDLR: I was having a panic attack and asked my husband for hold me, cuddle me, and kiss my forehead to make me feel better. He became irritated, angry, and made me feel guilty for asking. Now, I’m just really upset and disappointed in him and his lack of empathy. Am I overreacting?

This might be long, I apologize. I’ll add a TDLR at the end.
Background: I’ve (39F) been with my husband (49m) for nearly 9 years. We’ve been through a lot including several health issues on my part (cancer) and we managed to come out the other side. In February, we had a huge argument (we rarely fight - maybe twice a year max) and he said that he was unhappy in our relationship due to lack of sex and affection from me. So I talked things through with my therapist and worked extremely hard to rectify the situation. Since then, our sex life has improved greatly (usually 4+ times a week) and we are 100x more affectionate with each other. I feel I have put in a lot of work to make things better, but now I’m feeling as if I’m the ONLY one putting in the work.
Here’s what happened. I have anxiety/panic disorder. It’s mostly controlled by meds and therapy and I rarely have panic attacks anymore. For some reason, I was feeling upset and uneasy tonight. I cuddled up next to my husband in bed, hoping he’d hold me which helps with the uneasiness. He draped his arm around my shoulders and immediately started acting like he was falling asleep. I asked him if he could hold me, hug me, and kiss my forehead like he usually does when we go to bed and cuddle. He gets irritated and says he doesn’t want to have sex. I say it’s not about having sex, that I’m having a hard time and I need the affection. He starts to get angry, says he was holding me and what more do I want? So I explain again: he only had his arm draped over me, I needed to be held and snuggled and to feel loved as I was feeling upset. I don’t know WHY I was feeling this way, anxiety/panic isn’t always logical.
He starts to get really irritated and I start crying. Tears are dripping down my face as the anxiety takes hold. He keeps saying, “Oh my God” and “What do you want from me?” I keep trying to explain that I wanted some actual affection from him, that I’m having anxiety and could use some comfort. I told him that I was feeling rejected and unloved because I asked him for affection and all he could say was, “I don’t want to have sex”. That when he told me he needed something in our relationship, I did whatever I could to give it to him and I just needed to be held in this moment. By now I’m sobbing and shaking and he’s mad because I’m crying and keeping him awake. He makes a comment like, “Fine, let’s just stay up all night fighting and I’ll crash the car tomorrow from lack of sleep!” He also makes a comment about how he’s so awful and everything is his fault and he’s a horrible person. He makes a comment about possibly breaking up/separating. At this point, I can barely talk, I’m sobbing and shaking and just a mess. He’s making me feel guilty for asking him for affection. I’m confused because all I want is a hug and for him to tell me everything will be ok and he’s acting so harsh with me. I’m struggling HARD to get the anxiety under control. I beg him to please hold me while I cry and he grudgingly puts his arms around me. As soon as I get my crying under control, he rolls over and goes to sleep.
Now, I’m just laying in bed and feeling bitterly disappointed. I needed him and was in a vulnerable spot and all he did was treat me with disdain and contempt.
Am I overreacting for feeling upset that he made no actual effort to comfort me when I needed it?
TDLR: I was having a panic attack and asked my husband for hold me, cuddle me, and kiss my forehead to make me feel better. He became irritated, angry, and made me feel guilty for asking. Now, I’m just really upset and disappointed in him and his lack of empathy. Am I overreacting?

((I felt a spark of creativity and wanted to write this and dip my toes into maybe starting to write fanfiction and what better way to start than my ultimate favorite ship!)) [Little bit of a sad excerpt so be warned]

 The rain came down in heavy sheets, pounding into her clothes with icy pricks along her skin where the water soaked through the fabric of her black dress. Her umbrella did very little to shield her from the weeping rain and the chilled winds, but she appreciated the cover for her tears. She hadn't cried tears like this since Nero, but for the last 6 months, she cried often, and didn't care much ti hide it anymore. Wednesday stalked along the grounds of her home, determined but defeated steps towards her destination. She took the opportunity to sniffle under the cover of her boots squelching into grassy mud. Her home was a simple 4 room Cottage on a 5 acre plot of land with a huge yard surrounded by thick forest. Once upon a time she this was paradise for Wednesday, but nowadays it's only a painful reminder of what once was. She had come alone, as she always did on this day, having left Thing in the cottage by himself. She did this same ritual every year, for the last Year, on the 28th of each month. It was June now, and the entire month had been dull blur of numbing dread and painful memories that once tasted oh so sweet. The storm clouds blotted out the sun but Wednesday wouldn't have been able to see past the spray of water to her face anyway. She made her way under a huge oak tree towards the back her land, in a clearing in her forest. The tree stood tall and proud, shouldering the burden of Wednesday's grief through a the front of its trunk, where the bark had been scratched off and the letters "WA + EA" were etched into the exposed wood. The solemn seer placed her hand over the etching, her tungsten wedding band sticking out along her pale hand. She shuffled a few steps to the right to stand before an ornate head stone, the crest of a wolf sculpted at the top. Wednesday gracefully sat down on the wet grass, not caring for her clothes as she tucked her legs to the side. She closed her umbrella and laid it to the ground as she carefully removed a hot pink orchid from her person. Carefully, the seer placed the orchid in the maw of the white-marble wolf. "When they told me you were gone, I screamed. I wailed and I cried and I screamed. As loud as I could. I halfway hoped that if you could hear me screaming on your way to the afterlife, you would turn around and come back to me," Wednesday said, her voice monotone and devoid of emotion. As opposed to the usual cadence to her voice, the words instead came out exhausted and beaten. Another round of hot tears began to fall as her bottom lip began to tremble. Wednesday stood, and ran her hand over the top of the wolf-statue's head, and placed a kiss on the nose. "Happy Birthday... Cara mia..." she spoke with a whisper. She didn't like the idea of disturbing this place with too much sound. It was her sanctuary, a final remaining thread of peace in a minute sanctuary she forged herself after she laid her heart to rest here. It was her favorite place after all, the countless full moons where she would lay with her wolf under the oak tree. Wednesday lingered for a moment, staring at the words etched into the marble, "Enid Addams June 2006 - January 2036 The Raven's Wolf, Beloved Wife" with a heavy sigh and a sniffle as the tears began to subside, Wednesday made her way back to the cottage that wouldn't feel like home anymore, not while her soul remained incomplete. 

I have a constant, nagging pain in my mid-upper back between my spine and my right shoulder blade. It feels like a catch that I cannot get rid of. I can get some brief relief by leaning hard to the left, which results in some crunching/popping sensations that give some relief for 20-30 minutes.
It doesn't get worse with lifting. It does get much worse if I'm doing a lot of fine motor control with my arms. The absolute worst scenario is chopping vegetables, which after enough time leads to enough pain to put me in tears.
I've been to PT twice, both for about 5 month stints. In both cases it only made the pain marginally worse. On the last stint I also tried therapeutic massage which did nothing.
X-ray imaging shows nothing of note. I'm of normal weight.
I'm hoping I can find someone familiar with this sort of pain. Is there some common back pain cause that is unresponsive to PT but also doesn't show up on X-ray?

"Gods damn it, they in the turnips again Sal!" Rummy hobbled over from the window and jabbed a finger in Sal's direction. "You get out there and shoo them off before they trample the whole damn crop down. Bunch of gawkin' idiots wanderin' about with those damned candles and flags. Lost their Gods damned mines."
Sal pushed up the brim of his hat, squinting at Rummy, "I already done told 'em to git. Said they was in no ways wanted, but they keep sayin' I'm the Chosen One!" He leaned to the side and spit, prompting a scowl from Rummy.
"Yer 'bout to get chosen for the back side of my hand if you don't off that chair. I ain't spent all spring in that field to not see a profit from it. You get 'em gone or I'm gonna get gone."
Sal seriously contemplated the benefits of trading a field for his screeching banshee of a wife before he came grumbling to his feet. He scratched at his beard as he made his way over to the window. Immediately a chorus was taken up as the gathered pilgrims took up a song at his appearance.
He shooed them with his hands. "Go on now, get on out of here. Use the path. Stay off the plants."
If the pilgrims could hear him, they made no indication of it. He turned and looked over his shoulder back at Rummy and gave her a helpless shrug. Her scowl deepened.
"All right, all right." He said, heaving a sigh. He pulled at his tunic, trying to smooth it down as he approached the door. His calloused hand lay a hold of it and then he turned the knob, yanking it inward. He stepped out into the dull drizzle of the early morning. The sky was overcast. There'd be rain later.
A cheer rose up at his appearance. He raised his hands, calling for silence. It was only after a round of applause had died down that he could be heard. Spread throughout the field were a few hundred pilgrims. Many carried candles with them, a few had large, unfurled flags bearing the image of what appeared to be an elderly farmer leading an army of turnips into battle.
Once they had quieted, he cleared his throat, preparing to speak. They leaned in, a few hushing the murmurs of others. "Y'all done got me in trouble with the lady. She's a screeching battleaxe on a good day and this officially ain't a good day."
A few closer individuals and turned and looked at one another, confused. Another pushed through them and made his way to the fore of the group. He bowed low, his body turning almost at a right angle. "Blessed day, Chosen One, I am honored to stand before thee."
Sal spit to the side. "No. I ain't no chosen one. I'm just a Gods damned turnip farmer. Now go away!" He shooed his hands again at the bowing man.
The man rose gracefully. In his hand he carried a leatherbound book emblazoned with a turnip on its over. He turned slightly to side, half facing the crowd once more and then raised the book. "It is as it is written in the Book of Roots!"
Excited whispers picked up.
The man began to recite a passage, shaking the book with emphasis at each word.
"He shall deny the mantle!"
"He shall deny the mantle." They repeated back.
"He shall deny the flock!" Said he.
"He shall deny the flock." Said them.
"He shall deny the way!" Said he.
"He shall deny the way." Said them.
"He shall deny until there can be no denying. He shall turn the blind eye until he is forced to see."
"To see!" They exclaimed.
Sal looked at the man, "Now what in the blight goated hell are you going on about? Ain't no one gonna force me to see nothing that I ain't interested in seeing. And the only path I'm interested in is the one out over yonder, which is the same path y'all should be takin' on out of here before I set Rummy on you."
The man nodded solemnly, as if each word were of great weight. "So it is written, so it is said." He replied.
"You daft boy? Some mule get sweet on you and give you a kick upside the head?"
"Are we not all dull in the light of the Chosen One? Have we not all lost our senses until the sensible way has been shown to us?" He clasped the book tight to his chest. A woman in front burst into tears, nodding her head up and down.
"Amen," she called out. It was echoed by the others.
Overhead, the clouds shifted and a single ray of light shined forth, illuminating Sal on his doorstep. Hands immediately raised and the crowd began to sing.
"In the light of the morn, the Chosen was born, in the grace of the day, he showed us the way,
To the lost he was found, And gathered them around, With the Root and the Book, He saved the forsook,
The path began that day, And carried them away."
A small child chose that moment to scurry forward, carrying a perfectly shaped turnip. She curtsied and then presented it to Sal. Sal stared at the girl and then up at the heavens in disbelief. "Betrayed by a damned cloud," he whispered under his breath. Behind him he could hear Rummy making a racket, slamming drawers and hooting about how there'd be hell to pay if he didn't get 'em off and come back in.
Sal winced at the hollering. Then, slowly, he reached back and closed the door. He took the turnip from the girl, who beamed up at him in response. Then he turned to the man and shrugged, "Can't be worse, can it?"
Then he raised the turnip above his head. "I HAVE SEEN!"

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
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Chapter 04

-1-
Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."
Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.
"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"
Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.
More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.
The fight was over in an instant.
Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.
Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.
Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do
Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.
Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.
However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.
Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.
Then, finally, the man stilled.
The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.
System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.
Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.
One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...
Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.
With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.
Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.
A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.
"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"
"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed the visible distressed Roland was having and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."
Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
Your class, [Mage], has level up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
A [Quest] approaches!
Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.
Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.
No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.
Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of were the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.
Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.
He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.
Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.
His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.
After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."
Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.
A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.
The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.
Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.
The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."
Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."
The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his backs at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.
Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.
It sputtered.
Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.
Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.
He failed every time—
—and he didn't know why.
An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.
-2-
The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.
Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.
"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"
"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."
After all, I'm gonna have fun hunting monsters, leveling up, and finally, finally finding some goddamn tree ash.
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This is the opening scene to the last arc of my several year campaign where my level 17 PC's are traveling to hell to save the souls of two of their party members that died in the last arc. Would love any constructive criticism, feedback or recommendations and feel free to use it if you like it!
The scene opens with you in a breathtaking free fall over the blasted landscape of Avernus. The sky is an eerie tableau of sourceless blood-red light, roiling clouds of deep purple volcanic ash, and violent flashes of lightning. Meteors streak across the sky, tearing through the ominous clouds and painting fiery trails in their wake. Below, a hellish panorama of flowing lava rivers, jagged rocky mountains, and ash-covered plains hurtles towards you, the air a deafening roar as it whips past.
Suddenly, a shockwave tears through the air. Looking over your shoulder, you see you've fallen into the middle of battle. A massive flying structure swarmed by demons erupts in a cascade of fiery explosions. Flaming meteors of debris rain down around you, turning the already chaotic skies into a deadly gauntlet. The ground below races closer, and the urgency of your situation becomes all too clear. You must find a way to survive this hellish descent.
Free Fall
Players begin the encounter by falling to 2,900 ft and are each equally 60 feet apart. The rule for rate of falling is that when you fall from a great height, you instantly descend up to 500 ft. If your still falling on your next turn, you descend up to 500 feet at the end of that turn.
At the start of your turn, you can adjust your body position one of three ways:
Belly Flying - most control but slowest - can move up to your speed horizontally, advantage to dexterity saving throws.
Free Flying (head down oriented vertically) - fastest but least control - players move their speed vertically in addition to their fall distance. Disadvantage on dexterity saving throws.
Angle (hybrid) - players move half their speed vertically and may move half their speed horizontally.

ROLL INITIATIVE!
As you plummet through the infernal skies of Avernus, chaos engulfs you as twisted metal and roaring flames rain down around you. Fiery debris spirals in every direction, some pieces detonating in spectacular secondary explosions, hurling searing shrapnel through the air. The blazing fragments create a deadly ballet of destruction around you.
Looking around you survey your options. Beneath you, the debris field is thinner. If you can outrace the debris falling around you, there seems to be less chances of being hit by the further down. Alternatively, you could attempt to maneuver yourself through the debris and try to use some of the larger pieces as shelter if you can muster the agility and timing to reach them.
Player Actions:

• (Players falling position?)

Complications:
Zone 1 (< 2,500ft) 100% chance of getting hit by debris, roll dexterity save DC 16.
On a failure, you take 20d6 fire and 20d6 bludgeoning damage. (players can sacrifice a magical item they are actively carrying to negate the damage)
The debris field around you lessens slightly, but any sense of relief is fleeting as your descent plunges you into a swirling maelstrom of purple clouds, crackling with violent lightning. The moment you breach the cloud banks, an eerie sensation washes over you—your connection to the Weave is abruptly severed. The magic that once coursed through you and your items is snuffed out, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.
Bolts of lightning explode around you, searing the air with blinding flashes. Each strike seems magnetically drawn to those laden with magical items, the storm's fury honing in on your enchanted gear. The relentless barrage of light and sound disorients and threatens to overwhelm you.
In the face of this onslaught, you have a critical decision to make: you can close your eyes to shield yourself from the blinding flashes, accepting the risk of navigating blind through the treacherous storm; or keep your eyes open, enduring the lightning's searing brilliance, to stay vigilant for whatever dangers lie ahead beyond the clouds.
Player Actions:

• (Players falling position?)
• (Eyes closed or open?)

Complications:
Zone 2 - (< 2,000ft) 75% chance (Roll 1d20, <15 roll dex save DC 16)
Eyes open = Con save of 8 + number of magic items (each potion counts as 1 item). On a failure, blinded for 1 minute. Save at end of turn.
As you punch through the clouds back into the crimson sky, the debris field thins even further. Below you, a squadron of vulture-like demons with black feathered wings glide in formation. Preoccupied with scanning the hellish landscape below, they haven't noticed your presence yet. You're on a collision course, plummeting straight into the heart of their formation. Do you slow your descent, hoping they pass by before you reach them or will you plunge headlong through their ranks, hoping your momentum and the element of surprise will carry you through unscathed?
Player Actions:

• (Players falling position?)
• Belly Flying - Make a stealth check at advantage. (Auto fail in blinded, disadvantage if closing eyes)
• Free Flying - Stealth check at disadvantage, advantage on initiative checks
• Angle - Straight check.

Complications:
Zone 3 - (< 1,500ft) 50 % chance (Roll 1d20, <10 roll dex save DC 16)
The last few scattered pieces of debris streak past you, crashing into the ground below with explosive force. Suddenly, a searing updraft of scorching wind from the infernal plains of Avernus slams into you, tossing you into a wild, uncontrolled spin. Your vision blurs as you struggle to regain control, the acrid scent of sulfur and ash filling your lungs. The ground rushes up to meet you with terrifying speed, leaving you precious moments to right yourself and avoid a catastrophic impact.
Complications:
Make a strength saving throw DC 16 to right yourself and regain control. On a failure, you go into an uncontrolled spin and are incapacitated.
Belly Flying = Advantage
Free Flying = Disadvantage
*A player can repeat the save with advantage if another player within 5 ft. takes the help action.
Zone 4 - (< 1,000ft) 25% chance (Roll 1d20, <5 roll dex save DC 16)
Player Actions:

• (Players falling position?)

As the chaos in the sky subsides, the last remnants of debris drift away, revealing a single, large object hurtling towards the ground. Through the flickering haze of heat and ash, you discern the form of a small unconscious devil, its wings crumpled and body shredded and limp, plummeting headfirst with alarming speed. In one clawed hand, the creature clutches a pulsating red potion, its glow intense and mesmerizing.
Suddenly, the devil's grip loosens, and the potion slips free, tumbling through the air with increasing velocity. The ground below, a lethal sea of jagged rocks and sharp obsidian, awaits both of their arrivals with deadly anticipation.
Player Actions:

• (Players falling position?)
• The Devil and potion are at 350 ft. (alternatively, position them within half movement vertically of the lowest player) The devil is at 0 hp with 1 death saving throw left.

Complications:
Zone 5 (< 500 ft) A player in zone 5 at the end of their turn while still falling will hit the ground

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

I have been commenting on posts trying to improve my writing. Frimmel is my favorite ship of all time so I thought I would be perfect for the job tell me what you think please. I know it looks long but each line is indented
Fern and Stark lie asleep together in the cabin
Frieren fell asleep next to Himmels statue while reminiscing about Him
Himmel: Frieren how is the adventure going, how are Fern and Stark
Himmel: I am happy to see you have found yourself comrades again
Frieren: Himmel!
Frieren yells Himmels name like she never had before and runs toward him arms stretched out
Frieren kisses Himmel
Frieren latches onto Himmel squeezing him as tight as possible Frieren begins to ball
Frieren: I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, Himmel
Frieren: I abandoned you. I never should have left. I... I.. I am so sorry
Himmel: it is okay Frieren. All I ever desired was your happiness. I am just beyond great full that you finally have found true comrades. I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you
Frieren: No, Himmel, you you were the greatest, greater than I ever could have asked for and and yet I hurt you, I left you, I couldn't bare the pain of losing you and so I left the only love I ever had
Himmel: it is okay, Frieren. I wish I could take away your pain. Don't have regrets about leaving. You were always my greatest dream, I only hope for your happiness. I know someday you will find someone so much greater than myself and forget about me
Frieren: No. No. No I will never forget you, I, I will never love anyone ever again. I will die alone, so wait for me, wait for me, Himmel. I will be there
Himmel: Don't do that, Frieren. You will make me sad you deserve happiness more than anyone be free from my shackles
Himmel begins to disappear into white light
Frieren: No, No,
Frieren begins to shout please don't go, don't disappear again. Stay with me, never let me go, don't lave me leave please please stop. I'm sorry
Himmel wipes the tears off her cheeks
Himmel: Don't be sad Frieren I love most when you are happy don't let me be the object of your sorrow. Follow alongside Fern, and Stark and your happiness will follow it will be okay
Frieren grabs onto Himmels robes. Please, please don't go I love you Himmel I love you more than anything please don't leave me I have only lives this long because of you
Himmel: I love you too Frieren
Himmel disappears into light
A flood washes over Frieren pulling her away she desperately grabs onto the ground where he was standing but gets pulled away by the crashing waves
Frieren wakes up with tears all over her eyes her head is back on Himmel's statue
Frieren looks at her hand to see Himmels ring on her finger
Fern and Stark rushed out to Frieren in a panic
Fern: Is everything alright Frieren Sama you have been out cold for so long we expected you to come in to the lodge hours ago but you have been sleeping all this time
Fern examines Frieren's face to find tears flooding from her eyes
Fern: You have been crying in your sleeping are you okay Frieren Sama
Stark: She is in the greatest sorrow imaginable
Fern: What
Stark: My master told me about it one time when people are in such great sorrow they will begin to ball in their sleep
Frieren stands up
Frieren it is alright guys it is just a nightmare I can keep going
Frieren begins to trip
Fern laches onto Frieren before she falls Fern has tears in her eyes
Fern: stop hiding it from us Frieren we know it is him we have known you have loved him this whole time and have been storing it in. Let us help
Fern: Your wearing his ring stop pretending like you aren't broken hearted
Stark touches Frieren on the shoulder
Stark: We will help you get him back no matter the means whether it be magic or charging into the after life ourselves to pull him out
Stark: He is the only one for you after all
Fern: please don't give up hope Frieren
Stark: My master always said that even the most impossible can be done by those with the most unreasonable wills
Frieren turn backs to her comrades with tears in her eyes
Frieren: Guys
Frieren: breaks out into tears again please help me
Stark: I know you have been keeping it in this whole time and that you couldn't hold it in anymore
Frieren balling her eyes out: Guys!
Frieren: I want him back
Stark: nothing is impossible for us Frieren leave it to us

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

It was fall, and the weather was perfect for hiking. At least, Mark thought so. Hannah, his girlfriend of three years, not so much. The golden leaves falling through the warm afternoon sun were beautiful, but she hated every other aspect that came with traipsing through the forest. Especially bugs.
“How much further, Mark?”
“Not much.” Mark grinned, holding up a branch for Hannah to pass under. “It'll be worth it, I promise.”
Even Hannah's clear annoyance couldn't wipe the endearing smile from Mark's face. She had to smirk.
“Come on. We're almost there,” Mark said, plucking a leaf from her hair as he jogged past.
Shadows soon covered the forest floor as the sounds of dusk rose. Only a glimmer of soft orange remained to show the way. Mark was almost giddy as they neared a clearing. The trees thinned, and Hannah gasped.
“Yeah.” Mark bowed and waved a hand, “M’lady, if you would accompany me.”
A small creek babbled on the far side of the clearing. The sun—nearly set now—glimmered on the surface like golden specs. Their path crossed directly over, Mark helping Hannah splash over the wet rocks. Obscured at first by trees, a small, rocky hill appeared.
Several massive pine trees rose above a collapsed campfire. Fallen logs lined the site, the remaining light flashing like fireflies through its limbs. Mark wrapped an arm around Hannah and pulled her close.
Mark dropped his pack next to the old fire pit and knelt down to set up camp. Hannah, still marveling at the serene beauty of the spot, reluctantly took a seat on one of the fallen logs. The chilly evening air was beginning to set in, causing her to pull her jacket tighter around her body.
“This place is amazing,” she admitted, unable to suppress a smile as she watched Mark work.
“See? Told you it’d be worth it,” Mark replied, flashing her a triumphant grin.
As he started building a fire, Hannah shifted uncomfortably. She could feel the creeping sensation of insects scurrying across her skin, and she slapped at her arms, shuddering.
“Do you think there are... you know, like, dangerous bugs out here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Nah, nothing more dangerous than a mosquito bite,” Mark said, though his eyes darted towards the surrounding forest for just a moment.
The fire crackled to life, casting flickering shadows that danced around them. They spent the evening roasting marshmallows and sharing stories, the warmth of the fire keeping the growing cold at bay. As the stars dotted the night sky, Mark reached into his pack and pulled out a small box.
“Hannah,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I know you hate bugs and hiking, but you’ve always been willing to put up with it for me. I love you for that and so much more. Will you marry me?”
Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes as she looked at the ring, the firelight reflecting off the diamond. “Yes, Mark! Of course, I will!”
They embraced, and as the night grew colder, they found warmth in each other’s arms, the forest around them forgotten in their shared joy.
In the dead of night, Hannah woke with a start, a sharp pain radiating from her ankle. She winced, trying not to wake Mark as she fumbled for a flashlight. She directed the beam to her foot and saw a small, but deep, puncture wound, with a large centipede quickly scurrying away into the darkness.
“Mark... wake up,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Something bit me.”
Groggy and disoriented, Mark rubbed his eyes and looked at the wound. “It’s probably just a spider bite. We’ll get it checked out in the morning.”
Hannah tried to relax, but the pain was growing, spreading up her leg in relentless waves. As dawn broke, they packed up hastily, Mark practically carrying her back to the car.
By the time they reached the nearest hospital, Hannah’s condition had worsened dramatically. Her skin was pale and clammy, and she was barely conscious. Doctors rushed her into the emergency room, leaving Mark in the waiting area, his mind racing with worry.
Hours passed with no word. Mark paced the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, a doctor emerged, her face grave.
“She’s in critical condition. There’s some kind of parasite we’ve never seen before. We’re doing everything we can.”
Mark’s blood ran cold. “A parasite? What do you mean?”
The doctor hesitated. “It’s... growing inside her, very rapidly. We need to operate immediately.”
The next hours were a blur of anxiety and dread. Mark’s hands shook as he waited, the hospital’s emergency broadcast system flickering on screens around him, warning of a potential outbreak.
Then, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the corridors. Nurses and doctors sprinted past him, shouting orders. Mark followed, his legs feeling like lead. He burst into Hannah’s room just in time to see her body convulse violently on the operating table.
In a grotesque explosion of blood and tissue, a massive centipede tore free from her abdomen, its segmented body thrashing wildly. Mark could only watch in horror as thousands of tiny, grotesque centipede-human hybrids poured from the remains of Hannah’s body, swarming over the medical staff, their screams mingling with the sound of scuttling legs.
Mark stumbled back, his mind reeling. The creatures spread with terrifying speed, their numbers multiplying as they infected every living being in their path. Panic surged through the hospital, and Mark found himself alone in the room where Hannah had died, the walls and floor slick with her blood.
The emergency broadcast on the TV announced the rapid spread of the infestation, cities falling one by one. Mark could barely process the words as he stared at the carnage around him.
Then, the TV flickered, and the emergency broadcast cut to a live feed. A reporter, standing amidst chaos, was suddenly grabbed by a monstrous centipede. As the creature ripped the reporter apart on live television, it turned to the camera. A strip of Hannah’s face still clung to its mandibles, and in a perfect mimicry of her voice, it spoke.
“I did it all for you, my love.”