Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Just finished my third 100% play-through of Tears on the 1 year anniversary. It’s pretty brutal to 100% this game, but I enjoyed it. Here’s my 100% list:

• 1,000 Korok Seeds
• 100% map completion (includes all Named Locations, Cave Entrances, Shrines, Light Roots, Wells, Chasms, Towns, Settlements, Stables, Specialty Shops, Device Dispensers, Sky View Towers, Forge / Weapon Constructs and Refineries, Tears of the Dragon, Ancient Tablets, and Fairy Fountains)
• All chest icons on Shrines (appears when all chests in the shrines have been opened)
• 23 Main Quests
• 60 Side Adventures
• 31 Shrine Quests
• 139 Side Quests
• 18 Memories
• Completed Hyrule Compendium
• 228 Recipes
• Upgraded all Horses to the max
• All Clothing and Armor Pieces upgraded to the max
• 45 additional Energy Cells (48 total)
• 27 Zonai Devices
• 51 Paraglider Fabric Skins
• 12 Schema Stones
• 34 Yiga Schematics
• 31 Old Maps
• 147 Bubbul Gems
• 11 Horse Gear (Towing Harness, Saddles, Bridles)
• Medals of Honor
• All’s Well Key Item
• Dispelling Darkness Medal
• Hestu’s Gift Key Item
• 81 Addison Signs Put Up

I compiled a list of things I found online that helped me farm material so hopefully it’ll help others. My apologies for no credit to those who contributed. I simply copied and pasted a lot of these - but some are my own contributions.
____________________________________________________
Useful Links
Zelda Dungeon Interactive Map
Armor Upgrade List
Horse Upgrade List
100% Map Landmark Guide (Helped me find a few missed locations)
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Missed Locations (after collecting all Koroks, quests, shrines, caves, and wells)
Missed all 3 times
Kolomo Garrison Ruins
Missed Twice
Gatepost Town Ruins
Castle Town Watchtower
Lost Woods
Inogo Bridge
Dracozu Altar
East Passage
Water Reservoir
Kolomo Garrison Ruins
Missed Locations (2nd and 3rd run-though)
Desert Rift
Device Dispenser on Thunderhead Isles
Sargon Bridge
Drena Canyon Mine
Retsam Forest Cave (North Entrance)
Missed Locations (1st run-through)
Lutos Crossing
Lanayru Road - West Gate
Canyon of Awakening Mine
Abandoned Eldin Mine Forge Construct
Floret Sandbar
Faron Woods
West Passage
Dalite Grove
Grove of Time
Nabooru Canyon Mine
Walnot Canyon Mine
Madorna Canyon Mine
Hickaly Grove
Rozudo Canyon Mine
Daval Canyon Mine
Granajih Canyon Mine
Agaat Canyon Mine
Applean Grove
Rok Grove
Rhoam Canyon Mine
Ruto Canyon Mine
Akkala Bridges (all 3)
Stolock Bridge
Crystal Refinery in Lookout Landing
Faloraa Canyon Mine (last one)
____________________________________________________
Final Koroks (2nd and 3rd time)

• Desert by Shrine (Climb Up)
• Hateno beach
• Wellspring Island underneath staircase by the waterfall, 3414 0618 1551
• Thims Bridge Korok
• Ceiling stump west of Ulria Grotto (4078 0821 0236)
• South of Flirly Plateau, dive into lily pads (3014 -2537 0129)

____________________________________________________
Money Makers

• If you are going to 100% this game, don’t sell items you will need later unless you already have extra, especially gems. Crosscheck it with the Armor Upgrade link above.
• I regularly cycled through Moldugas and the Lynels in the Floating Coliseum every blood moon. Lynel Hooves and Molduga Guts are easy to collect and have extra to sell at a good price.
• Extra armor is great to sell and can be easily obtained with Amiibos (if you have them all - I have the cards). In my experience, armor didn’t have a high drop rate until after I finished 2/4 regional phenomena

____________________________________________________
Armor / Weapon Tips

• Best Armor Suits to hunt and upgrade to at least Level 2: Radiant Armor, Froggy Armor, Glide Armor, Rubber Armor, Flamebreaker Armor, and Snowquill
• My go-to weapon (although way overpowered) is the Gerudo Scimitar fused with a Molduga Jaw., although you can use any Gerudo weapon (Gerudo weapons double the attack power of the item it's fused with). Combined with a Level 2+ Radiant Armor, you'll be able to kill any enemy with ease. Include a Level 3 attack potion or sneak attack from a puff shroom, there are plenty of enemies you can kill with 1 hit.

Rock Octoroks
Mark these locations on your map and visit when you want to refresh a weapon. Turn off Sages or they will shoot the Octoroks before they refresh your weapon. One thing I found out on my own is you don’t have to wait for the Octorok to spit the weapon out, as soon as he sucks it in, shoot him with an arrow and your weapon will be good as new.
https://preview.redd.it/6njacxsk7e0d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e973024978dd8c0536dc7c2815b4c75b02ec6313
Lizalfos Tails
Will update later
Fighting Lynels
Royal Guard’s Claymore: you can find inside Hyrule Castle behind a broken statue in Hyrule Castle Sanctum (-0282, 1086, 0356). I liked to fuse Molduga Jaws with this. Once fused, keep kitting the ground or anything until you get the message: “Your Royal Guard’s Claymore is badly damaged,” then hit it 2 more times. Your weapon will be down to 1 hit and 1 hit only before it breaks. Save this weapon for your Lynel fights. When you ride the backs of Lynels, you have infinite weapon durability so your weapon won’t break. Combine Royal Guard’s Claymore fused with Molduga Jaw and Radiant Armor, you’ll be able to defeat most Lynels in 3-6 hits. Be sure to save before and after fighting each Lynel in case your weapon break.
Pristine Royal Guard’s Claymore
I didn’t find this until my 3rd playthrough. Picture below are statues where 2-handed pristine weapons spawn. Go there every Blood Moon and eventually you’ll find a pristine one to make fighting Lynels even easier.
https://preview.redd.it/bd4qwp4n7e0d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=716a518b7407d695024d21856ad564123827cbe1
Gibdo Bones
Best place to farm is a room inside the Lightning Temple, just strategically set up mirrors. Other good farming locations are the Ancient Altar Ruins and the Gerudo Underground Cemetery. These make great fuse arrows combined with Level 2+ Radiant Armor.
Potions
I didn’t realize this until TOTK (and never tried it in BOTW), but you can actually make 30 min potions from Monster Extracts (instead of using hard-to-grind Dragon Horns). You might have to save scum (save before, make potion, if it’s not what you want, then reload game) to get the 30 mins, but Monster Extracts are only 50 rupees and easier to get than Dragon Horns.
Rocket Shields
Oromuwak Shrine (east of Rito Village). I visit here regularly to stock up on Rocket Shields.
Zonaites and Crytalized Charges

• Save Zonaite for Autobuild only
• Save Large Zonaites for Armor Upgrades only
• Best Way to get Crystalized Charges is defeat all Flux Construct, Hinox, Stone Talus, Frox, and Gleeok in the depths. They will always give you 20 crystalized charges.
• After you beat each regional boss on the surface, 3 of them will respawn in the Depths and give you 100 crystalized charges each after the first kill.
• Floating Colieseum is an excellent place to stack up on strong weapons and get 100 crystalized Charges)
• Plenty of chests in the Depths that have 20 Crystalized Charges
• Every Frox location has a small cluster of Zonaite
• Large Zonaite Deposits are basically ripoffs, you get very little for the effort

Hudson Signs

• Hudson Signs can be dependent on time or weather or something
• My last 2 were Lodrum Headland and Gerudo Canyon Stable

Horses
4-4-5-3 Stat Horses Found Southeast of Bublinga Forest
Gems Info

• Sapphire and Opal are the hardest? In addition to the breaking Rare Ore Deposits, Frost Talus’ are a good source for Sapphire and Opal
• 4 Ruby’s at Simosiwak Shrine
• Dondons seemed like a waste of time for me.
• Turn your sensor on in Death Moutain to target Rare Ore Deposits and mark them on the map to visit every blood moon.
• Luminous stones: Sky Mine (northeast corner of Sky Map), West Necluda Sky Archipelago (north of Ukoojisi Shrine), South Hyrule Sky Archipelago (west of Jinodok Shrine), Maw of Death Mountain Lakes

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How to get Stars

• Fast travel to Gerudo Canyon Skyview Tower
• Rest until Night.
• Walk up the ramp and launch yourself into the air.
• After being launched, point the camera down and begin diving. A star will eventually fall for you to claim.
• Descent back to the ground at Gerudo Canyon Skyview Tower and rest until night again.
• Fast travel to Typhlo Ruins Skyview tower. Launch, look down, catch star. (Or Mayam Shrine above Thyphlo Ruins)
• As soon as you catch start, you can warp right back to Gerudo Canyon Skyview Tower. Rest until Night. Rinse and Repeat.

Notes: You can do this with any of the other Skyview Towers below, but you must rest until night in between each star. Gerudo Canyon Skyview Tower seems to be the most convenient because there is a cooking pot next to Pikango at the base of the tower.
Also works with (not confirmed on my end)

• Gerudo Canyon
• Gerudo Highlands
• Rabella Wetlands
• Mount Lanaryu
• Ulri Mountain
• Eldin Canyon
• Sahasra Slope

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Silent Princess and Blue Nightshade
(-2476, -0646, 0208)
Milk

• Dantz in Hateno Pasture (Trade 3 acorns for 1 milk)
• Hateno Village General Store

Acorns

• Sage Temple Ruins

Dragon Parts

• Dragon claws from each dragon for the Goddess Statues Side Quest
• Dragon parts respawn every 10 minutes so if you’re trying to farm any parts and want to be a little lazy, you can ride the dragon continuously and set a timer for 10 mins, collect part, then repeat. Be sure to save every now and then (One time I collected parts for 1.5 hours, stepped away from the game and died and lost everything). Also, with the exception of the Light Dragon, you will fall off the dragon unless you adjust yourself as they go in and out of the Depths.

Beetles

• Big tree at Rutile Lake has 3-4 of each Beetle Type (-2470, -0610, 0202)
• Bronas Forest for Beetles

Hinox

• Hinox guts come from Black Hinoxes (need 15)

Black Lizalfos

• Tall Circular Rock north of Gerudo Desert Gateway and west of Gerudo Canyon Stable (use sky tower)
• West of Tabahl Woods Cave (southwest of Zora’s Domain)
• Veiled Falls (west of Zora’s Domain)
• Northeast of Upland Zorana (northwest of Toto Lake)
• North of Luto’s Crossing (just west of Ruto Lake name on small island)
• South of Ralis Pond
• Southwest of ebon Mountin (closer to the water)
• North of Keya Pond (intersects with Hanu pond, southwest of Ebon mountain)
• West side of Riola Spring (southwest of Mount Floria)
• North of Mount Hylia (and south of River of the dead)
• Gohma like skeleton, east of Gerudo town, west of Palu Wasteland

Black Boss Bokoblin

• Mystathi’s Shelf (Gerudo Highlands)
• West end of Vatorsa Snowfield (Gerudo Highlands)
• NW of Eastern Abbey (Great Plateau)
• SE corner of Aquame Lake in a half skull encampment (Hyrule Field near Coliseum Ruins)
• Halfway between Lanayru Bay and the Spring of Wisdom/ Mt Lanayru Skyview Tower (Lanayru)
• Varies since the game seems to scale some of these for some but not others even though they have story completed and a lot of hours as well.
• West Passage of Hyrule castle. Coords -0450, 0909, 0012. The entrance is closer to the castle gates where you’ll find a minecart that takes you to the room they’re in (just north of name label Hyrule Caste Moat)
• Another Black Boss Bokoblin in the depths at (-2097, -1510, -0692) near a Flux Construct I, and is underneath Nephra Hill (west of Digdogg Suspension Bridge)
• Depths north of Dueling Canyons Mine at 1332, -1547, -0646 (fixed)

Red Boss Bokoblin

• Patrolling just south of Talonto Peak in the Hebra region, along the path you travel to find Tulin at the peak during Rito storyline. There are actually two boss bokoblins here, with one on a higher and slightly more eastern shelf and the other slightly lower and westward shelf just above an entrance to Hebra South Summit Cave; the first one is the non-scaling red one, and the second scales. Thought I’d mention it because I and another commenter found the scaling one first.)
• On the skull bridge west of Mount Gustaf (west of Lookout Landing), between the Hyrule Ridge and Hyrule Plains regions.
• Patrolling the Maritta Exchange Ruins north of Lindor’s Brow in the Hyrule Ridge region.
• Patrolling in the middle of Seresa Scablands in the Hyrule Ridge region.
• In the Royal Ancient Lab Ruins in North Hyrule Plain, just north of New Serenne Stable
• Southeast Lookout Landing and Mabe Village Ruins in Hyrule Field
• South of the East Deplian Badlands in the Eldin Mountains, on a landing to the northwest of the Isle of Rabac (east of Thyphlo Ruins)
• On Zauz Island in the Lanayru Wetlands, directly east of Wetland Stable
• South of Mount Daphnes in Hyrule Field, between the mountain and the Exchange Ruins

Blue Lizalfols

• Warp to Zakusu Shrine, in the Naydra Snowfield near Mount Lanayru. There are about 6 in this area going up around the mountain and around the edges of the snowfield.
• Warp to the Niuzimod Lightroot in the depths, in the Ancient Underground Fortress, this is underneath the Akkala Citadel Ruins on the surface. There are about 4-5 here as well
• Another location for one blue Lizalfos: 2991, - 0215, 0278. It's the blue water area between Zobodon Highlands and Ruto Mountain, just south southwest of Zora's Domain
• Found some in the Lanayru region here: ** 4023, - 1664, 0345 (Lanayru Range - A platform of about 3 blue Lizalfos)
• Madorna Mountain - Another platform with 2 blue (3808, - 1660, 0329)
• North of Nadrya Snowfield Chasm - 1 blue under a tent with an icy Lizalfos (3601, - 1128, 0263)

Captain Construct I locations

• (1) In-isa shrine on great sky island - captain I
• (1) Ijo-o Shrine West Hebra Sky Islands
• (1) Rasitakiwak Shrine, southeast of Tarrey Town. 4166 1323 0229
• (1) Yansamin Shrine, Zonaite Forge Island, in sky above Fort Hateno. Other bots wield weapons with a captain 1 horn and a captain 2 horn. (2350 - 1782 1475)
• (1) Simosiwak Shrine, Bravery Island, in sky above Korok Forest. (Also, three rubies and a ruby sword, for 420 rupees every blood moon) (0163 1972 0759)

Captain Construct II locations

• (1) Nouda Shrine, inside Kopeeki Drifts Cave, east of Rito Village. -2318 2201 0173
• (1) Zakusu Shrine, Naydra Snowfield, west side of Mount Lanayru. 3527 - 1482 0168
• (1) Sifumim Shrine, overlooking Lurelin Village. 2826 - 3271 0078
• At the east end of the Lake Siela supply river, east of Kakariko Bridge, south east of the Pilars of Levia. Basically the line formed by the Pilars of Levia point south east to a camp of Constructs, one of which is a Captain II. 2248, -1429, 0026.
• Where the old bowling game used to be south of snowfield stable, east of nouda shrine -1974, 2144,0253
• Kanalet ridge in akkala highlands, north east of shrine by south akkala stable (3244,2000,0160)
• East of proxim bridge, north of hills of baumer, north of popla foothills sky view tower
• Wellspring island, up and southwest of Igoshon Shrine 3340 0538 1353

Captain Construct III locations

• Two in Typhlo Ruins, north of Korok Forest + eventually (2) soldier construct IV + 1 Soldier Construct III
• Two in a sea fort between Clarnet Coast and Aris Beach, west of Lurelin Village. 2 Captain Construct III + 3 Soldiers Construct III + 1 Soldier Construct IV
• South of Tarry Town, north of Ulria Grotto

Horriblins
Desert Colosseum
Gibdo Wings
Gerudo Underground Cemetery
Sand pits
____________________________________________________
Shopping
Restock Shops
To restock any shop in Tears of the Kingdom, here is what you will have to do.

1. Buy out the item in the shop until there are none left.
2. Take out wood and flint to make a fire.
3. Rest by the fire till the next day.
4. Manually save the game.
5. Load the game from the save you just made.

Hateno General Store
Hylian Rice x5 (need 38 + recipes)
Swift Carrot x10 (need 10 + horses + recipes)
Bird Egg x5 (need 12 + recipes)
Fresh Milk x3 (need 66 + recipes)
Goat Butter x5 (Need 84 + recipes)
Kakariko General Store
Aerocuda Eyeball x3 (need 42)
Aerocuda Wing x3 (need 48)
Kakariko General Store Trissa
Goat Butter x5 (need 84 + recipes)
Swift Carrot x12 (need 10 + horses + recipes)
Bird Egg x5 (need 12 + recipes)
Fortified Pumpkin x3
Lookout Landing General Store
Hylian Rice x3 (need 38 + recipes)
Fresh Milk x4 (need 66 + recipes)
East Akkala Stable
· 3 Sticky Frog (need 30)
· 3 Smotherwing Butterfly (need 15)
Lakeside Stable
· 2 Sticky Frog
· 3 Thunderwing Butterfly (need 9)
· 2 Hightail Lizard (need 21)
South Akkala Stable
· 2 Sticky Lizard (need 24)
· 3 Hightail Lizard (need 21)
· 2 Fireproof Lizard (need 15)
Woodland Stable
· 3 Cold Darner (need 15)
· 3 Fireproof Lizard (need 15)
Kara Kara Bazaar General Store
Green Lizalfos Tail x3 (need 18)
Riverside Stable
· 5 Hylian Rice (need 38)
· 3 Thunderwing Butterfly (need 9)
· 3 Electric Darner (need 15)
Tabantha Bridge Stable
· 4 Fire Fruit (need 9)
· 3 Summerwing Butterfly (need 15)
· 3 Winterwing Butterfly (need 15)
· 3 Thunderwing Butterfly (need 9)
New Serenne Stable
· 4 Warm Darner (need 15)
· 4 Sunset Firefly (need 15 + 10 + 10)
Kara Kara Bazaar
· 5 Summerwing Butterfly (need 15)
· 5 Cold Darner (need 15)
Snowfield Stable
· 3 Summerwing Butterfly (need 15)
· 3 Warm Darner (need 15)
Kara Kara Bazaar
Summerwing Butterfly x5 (need 15)
Cold Darner x5 (need 15)
Foothill Stable
· 3 Thunderwing Butterfly (need 9)
Wetland Stable
· 3 Smotherwing Butterfly (need 24)
Rito Village General Store
Goat Butter x5 (need 84 + recipes)
Cane Sugar x3 (need 24 + recipes)
Tabantha Wheat x3 (need 42 + recipes)
Sunshroom x4 (need 15)
Korok General Store
Tabantha Wheat x2 (need 42 + recipes)
Hylian Rice x3 (need 38 + recipes)
Cane Sugar x3 (need 24 + recipes)
Goron General Store
Cane Sugar x3 (need 24 + recipes)
Goron Spice x3 (need 12 + recipes)
Zora General Store
Hylian Rice x4 (need 38 + recipes)
Swift Violet x4 (need 90)

Today's anniversaries are:
2005

• Gorillaz - Demon Days (Rap/Hip Hop)

2009

• Exivious - Exivious (metal, fusionmetal, jazzfusion, post-rock, progressive, Netherlands)

2011

• Fire! & Jim O'Rourke - Unreleased? (Jazz)

2012

• Fire! & Oren Ambarchi - In the Mouth, a Hand (avant-garde jazz)

2013

• Indricothere - Ⅱ (metal, taaaaag, taaag, tag, New York)
  
• Loathe - Lambs to the Slaughter (crossover, metal, brutal metal, death metal, heavy metal, melodic metal, malta)
  

2015

• Mojo Waves - All the Right Parts Fit the Wrong Way (alternative, rock, alternative rock, experimental rock, progressive, psychedelic, Helsinki)
  
• Sajjanu - Trauma 13 (alternative, electronic, metal, core, japanese, math, Japan)
  

2016

• Impossible Nothing - Phonemenomicon (experimental, Earth)
  
• Maxim Fortin - Tout est en ordre (pop)
  
• Sandtimer - God (world, ambient, avant-garde, dark arts, electronic, experimental, spiritual, summoning, Antarctica)
  

2017

• Elder Devil - Graves among the Roots (grindcore, metal, crust, hardcore, Fresno)
  
• Featherwolf - Featherwolf (avant rock, experimental, feather wolf, featherwolf, progressive rock, rock, experimental rock, experimentalrock, instrumental rock, math rock, technical rock, Los Angeles)
  
• Grizzly - Reaper (death metal, extreme, grindcore, metal, shred, Canada)
  
• Pi 1 Shodoukan - Odyssey, the Evolution of Pi 1.3 Shodoukan: Doubt (experimental, metal, progressive rock, electronic, instrumental, orchestral, post-rock, progressive, progressive metal, Toulouse)
  
• Ruin! Ruins! - Mammock (hard rock, metal, rock, instrumental, instrumental rock, post-metal, post-rock, postmetal, postrock, Russia)
  
• Stranger Things Have Happened - It's the Self Titled EP (progressive rock, rock, funk, instrumental, math rock, math-rock, post-rock, Adelaide)
  
• Think Tank - Think Tank (progressive rock, rock, rush, yes, funk, king crimson, post progressive rock, prog, prog rock, psychedelic, synth, toto, zappa, Bari)
  
• Wounds of Christ - God Spat and the Man Was Done (metal, death, death metal, Chile)
  

2018

• 1099 - Blindpassasjer (rock, trondheim, alternative, dark jazz, instrumental, post yacht, post-rock, soft jazz, space rock, Trondheim)
  
• Abraham - Look, Here Comes the Dark! (alternative, black metal, metal, doom, post-hardcore, post-metal, sludge, Lausanne) Read our review.
  
• Animals as Leaders - Live 2017 (Rock, Metal)
  
• Body Void - I Live inside a Burning House (metal, blackened doom, blackened doom metal, doom, doom metal, drone, funeral doom, funeral doom metal, sludge, sludge metal, San Francisco)
  
• Chickn - Wowsers! (rock, jetztzeit rock, Athens)
  
• Chrch - Light Will Consume Us All (metal, doom, psychedelic, Sacramento)
  
• Emma-Jean Thackray - Ley Lines (afrohouse, jazz, electronic, free jazz, jazz-not-jazz, jazzbeat, nu jazz, uk jazz, London)
  
• Galactic Pegasus - Dysphoria (galactic pegasus, metal, deathcore, djent, hardcore, metalcore, Surrey)
  
• Hegemone - We Disappear (atmospheric black metal, black metal, blackgaze, metal, post black metal, dark ambient, post black metal, post metal, post rock, post-metal, ritual, Poznan)
  
• Idris Ackamoor and the Pyramids - An Angel Fell (alternative, experimental, modern roots, world, avante garde, jazz, world music, San Francisco)
  
• Ľudové Mladistvá - Viete ako… (Jazz)
  
• Mask of Judas - The Mesmerist (death metal, metal, progressive metal, tech metal, United Kingdom)
  
• Noisepicker - Peace Off (punk, rock, blues, doom, United Kingdom)
  
• Olga Amelchenko - Shaping Motions (avant-garde jazz)
  
• Reverorum ib Malacht - Im ra distare summum soveris seris vas innoble (ambient, black metal, experimental, metal, dark ambient, industrial, noise, Florence)
  
• The Body - I Have Fought against It, but I Can't Any Longer. (metal, Portland)
  
• Trio HLK - Standard Time (improvised, jazz, contemporary classical, jazz and improvised music, United Kingdom)
  
• Varra - 音乐摇滚 (Yīnyuè yáogǔn / Rocc Music) (jazz, jazz fusion, modern fusion, progressive rock, chile, vaporwave, Concepción)
  

2019

• A Light Sleeper - Distinction: A Ballet in Six Parts (experimental, art rock, avant garde, avant-prog, chamber prog, dark ambient drone, math rock, modern classical, new music, orchestral rock, post genre, post-jazz, post-rock, progressive, rock in opposition, symphonic rock, Chicago)
  
• Battle of Britain Memorial - We Crave for Our Holy Outsides (metal, post-hardcore, post-metal, post-rock, postcore, screamo, France)
  
• Khadavra - Hypnagogia (experimental, progressive, psychedelic, retro-rock, Gothenburg)
  
• SD Quartet - Mirage (jazz, free improvisation, freejazz, improvisation, muisc, music, swing, South Korea)
  

2020

• Twilight Fauna - Foundations (atmospheric black metal)

2022

• Mayberian Sanskülotts - 神虎需要化学制品 (Shén hǔ xūyào huàxué zhìpǐn / God Tiger Needs Chemical Works) (indie pop)
  
• R'luhh - Exhaustion (atmospheric black metal)
  
• Talaqpo - Tamne (experimental jazz)
  
• Weeed - Green Roses, Volume 1 (psychedelic folk)
  
• ゲスの極み乙女 (Gesu no kiwami otome / Lowest Lowest Girl) - 丸 (Maru) (Best Album) (J-rock)
  
• 大象體操 (Tōa-chhiūⁿ thé-chhau / Elephant Gym) - Dreams (J-rock, math rock)
  

2023

• Jet Plane - … Among the Humans (post-rock)
  
• Sleep Summit - balance (post-rock)
  
• Tenebran - Verticality (synthwave)
  

Extracted from the comments shared in u/MyLifeIsAGatcha’s thread as things were getting packed there. Thanks to everyone for sharing!

• Poor castle, war: Miglance Castle, 2F
• Flowers, castle: Palsifal Palace
• Colorful cloth, round door: Sarupa
• Floating tree: Nilva
• Golden wheatfields: Laula Dome
• Hotter, higher: Vasu Mountains
• City, cutting edge: Elzion
• City, lake: Acteul
• Heroic statue: Baruoki
• Sandy, windmills: Zarbo
• Flaming, village: Ratle
• No living thing: Purgatory
• Ruins, machines, no people: Industrial Ruins, Link Hall
• Tag, tired: Konium
• Researching, high up: Xeno-Domain
• Grass, castle in the distance: Nuara Uplands
• Awful clock: Tower of Time, 7F
• Capital: Unigan
• Road lined with candles: Keruri Highroad
• Lovely seaside, last: Last Island
• Waterfall: Charol Plains
• Books, vases, swamp: Man-eating Marsh, enter from Acteul
• Glowing spores: Corinda Plains
• “sand, sand, sand”: Rucyana Sands
• Nyaa, sunset: Snake Skull Mescita
• Big mushroom, big lizard: Zol Plains
• Tower’s walls open and close: Tower of Stars
• Purple plant monsters: Karek Swampland, top left
• Big snake’s neck: Snake Neck Igoma
• Iron boxes flying: Elzion Airport
• Weird jewels, scenery change: Snake Liver Damaku
• Boars run: Snake Spine Garabaki
• Wandering spirits: Ancient Battlefield
• Road crumbles away: Route 99
• Food, village, harvest: Ikarga
• Stained glass, throne: Beast King’s Castle, Throne Room
• Eyeball, island is weird: Light’s Fading
• “too cold in this village”: Hidden Village Itoise
• “All this magma”: Nadara Volcano, Caldera’s Edge
• “even has races”: Nagsham
• Full moon reflected: Moonlit Forest, healing spot
• Paper lanterns: Izana
• “people on surface”: Angal Settlement
• Stone road, lake: Lake Tiilen
• Baths: Hot Springs / Splendid Land Baths
• Strange decorations, rocks: Talgana Mountain Trail
• Nice and shady big tree: Valley of the Ancients
• Many books, museum: Nilva, Museum, Library
• Sleepy little town: Nazrik
• Big stadium: Satellite Stadium
• Before the pollution: Contaminated Pit
• Brilliant red leaves: Vermillion Road, enter via Nagsham
• Mountain breeze, windmills: Gadaro
• Big people: Pador
• Ruined amusement park: Toto Dreamworld, Scary Area
• Sit on bench, whole town from air: Eeza
• Straw Dummies: Zami
• Ruined, stagnant, gross: Wasteland, exit west from Angal
• Tall grass waving: Inanari Plateau
• Strange place, chapel: Zero Point, West
• Good shrine, kitties: Cat Shrine
• Shrine, flow of time, cruel: Cat Shrine Remnants
• Mansion, mountains: Specter Palace
• Vibrant forest: Hoshiki Forest
• Plain, wonder, bloom: Wicked Meadow
• Strange place, shiny stuff falling: Zero Point East

*Note: I am not a copyright lawyer, I'm not any kind of lawyer, nor am I making an accusation that anyone or any entity is infringing on the copyright or trademark of any other entities. That being said…
I have a theory that Wicked -- both Maguire's novel (Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, 1995) and more so the musical (Wicked, 2003 Universal Stage Productions) -- solely functions as a prequel to the 1939 MGM film the Wizard of Oz (now owned by WB), and not that film's public domain source novel the Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Let me explain...
Maguire wrote Wicked in 1994 in response to the Gulf War. His clever use of Oz characters passed scrutiny during publication in 1995 under parody and fair use laws, and because the Baum novel had long been in the public domain… as well as Ted Turner arranging to sell the MGM catalog to WB, circa 1997, making the timing ideal for Maguire's novel to skirt any copyright/trademark scrutiny for using elements from the non-public domain film.
We know what happened next, the book was a raging success and soon it was popular enough to be optioned by Universal and turned into a stage musical produced (after film & TV productions with Demi Moore and Salma Hayek separately attached failed to materialize). The musical opened first in San Francisco for try-outs and then Broadway in 2003. And writers Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman liberally peppered even more direct homages and winks to the 1939 film into leitmotifs and other elements of the book, score, and staging.
But, Wicked has TOO many elements from the 1939 film, and NOT ENOUGH from Baum's original book, to merit it being called a prequel to the book (this is also true of Disney’s 2013 admitted attempt to cash-in on Wicked’s success, Oz: the Great and Powerful – which is even more egregious than Wicked, and ironic, as its own title is directly lifted from the 1939 film misquote of the book’s moniker of “Oz the Great and Terrible”).
---
So now, let's look at some of key differences between the book the Wonderful Wizard of Oz (WWoOZ) and its film adaption from 1939, and how Wicked (and that Disney rip-off - though I don’t want to have to keep mentioning that movie so just assume most of what I say applies there too) reinterprets these events and characters:
- In the book WWoOz it is established that there are four cardinal witches in the land of Oz. Dorothy vanquishes two unrelated Wicked Witches in the East (WWotE) and West (WWotW) as well as encountering the benevolent unnamed good witch of the North at the start of her adventure and a separate good witch, Glinda of the South, who helps her home in the end. MGM condensed the good witches into one character “Glinda the Good Witch of the North” as well as adding a subplot turning the Wicked Witches into sisters (providing Margaret Hamilton’s Witch more direct motivation to pursue Judy Garland’s Dorothy via the Witch’s presumed right to collateral inheritance of her sister’s shoes). Both Maguire and Disney follow the 1939 film’s continuity regarding these relationships making the wicked witches siblings, and Glinda the sole “good witch” in opposition to them.
-WWotW as depicted in Baum’s novel bears little to no resemblance to the green-skinned Margaret Hamilton in the 1939 film, and subsequently Maguire’s Elphaba. Oz illustrator W. W. Denslow, whom Baum worked closely with when designing the characters, depicts the witch as a hunched old hag with three pigtails and an eyepatch, tall brimmed hat, ruffed collar, coat and skirt. While MGM’s design team, led by legendary costumer Adrian, initially tested several looks for WWotW (including a glamorous sequined look inspired by Disney’s Evil Queen in Snow White). MGM screenwriter, Herman Mankiewicz (who expanded the role of the wicked witch from book to screenplay, and wrote several key lines for her including, “I’ll get you my pretty!”) insisted "witches should be ugly!" And Margaret Hamilton’s Witch was given green skin to broadcast her “wickedness” as well as make her face and hands stand-out against her black medieval gown, cloak and sharp brimmed hat. Needless to say this film only element of green-skin becomes a major plot point of Wicked. And Susan Hilferty’s stage designs for Elphaba retain the 1939 film’s silhouette and dark color palette.
-Another difference in Baum’s WWotW is that she only had one eye, but that it "was as powerful as a telescope", and this is how she spies on her enemies. MGM was again inspired by Snow White's Queen, and popular imagery of fortune tellers, giving Hamilton’s Witch the ability to scry in a large crystal ball, which made for some of the most memorable visuals of the film, of her looming eerily over the heroes. Unlike Baum’s WWotW, Maguire’s Elphaba retains vision in both eyes, and inherits her film counterpart's scrying abilities (primarily using a blown-glass orb).
-Baum’s WWotW importantly carries an umbrella, not a broomstick, as a source of protection for her aquaphobia. She has no need for transportation, her location is limited to her castle in the West of Oz. MGM’s script, howvever, gave Hamilton’s Witch a means of transportation that had long been popular in witch mythology, a broomstick, involving her more directly in the narrative (as well as giving the Wizard a macguffin to send Dorothy after). Maguire also chose to make a broomstick a means of travel for Elphaba, and Stephen Schwartz's “Defying Gravity”, the centerpiece of the musical, which sees a scene not included in the novel, where Elphaba defiantly flies over the Emerald City in protest of the Wizard, cemented the broom’s icon status within the framework of the Wicked franchise.
-The Flying Monkeys in Baum’s novel have a rich backstory involving their enslavement at the hands of a sorceress named Gaylette. The monkeys’ terms of imprisonment require they obey three commands given by whomever possess a Golden Cap, which the WWotW owns and uses to capture Dorothy and her friends. Dorothy comes into possession of the Golden Cap after WWotW’s demise (similar to her inheriting the slippers) and is able to command the monkeys to her own benefit later in the book. The Golden Cap subplot was scrapped from the MGM film in favor of giving the witch a more ambiguous command over her uniformed simian air force (though it still appears in the final cut as a prop tossed by Hamilton's Witch to Nikko, the flying monkey). Maguire’s Wicked makes no mention of Baum’s golden cap, giving Elphaba a monkey factotum, similar to MGM’s Nikko, now called Chistrey. The monkeys are given a vivisection backstory in Maguire's novel and are a result of the Grimmerie’s levitation spell in the musical, but Elphaba’s willful command of the their legions, without the limitations of the Golden Cap, is much more reminiscent of MGM’s Witch than Baum’s.
-Famously the slippers Dorothy inherits from the WWotE in Baum’s novel are made of silver metal (sterling silver shoes were popular as decorations and sugar bowls in Baum's day). The Slippers in the 1939 film were famously changed to ruby, so as to be more eye-catching against the technicolor yellow road. After some initial designs, MGM designer Adrian landed on the iconic red sequined pump seen in the film. Maguire’s novel, utilizing the film’s sibling backstory to motivate Elphaba, makes the famous pair of slippers into a sentimental pair of shoes adorned with beaded glass, in the musical referred to as "jeweled", which refract multiple colors, notably ruby red. Susan Hilferty’s choice of silver sequined pumps for the musical, given a red special lighting cue at a crucial moment, distinctly resemble Adrian’s 1939 design.
-Dorothy is a young child of roughly seven or eight years old in Baum’s novel and its illustrations. In Maguire’s take on the character she is depicted as a husky teenager prone to cloying musical outbursts. Teenage Judy Garland was famously derided at MGM for her weight, especially filming Oz, with Louis Mayor allegedly calling her his “little hunchback”.
-Animals in Oz in Baum’s text are all Imbued with the power of speech. Toto himself is able to speak in the land of Oz (revealed in the fifth Baum book), as well as a myriad animals from our world who travel to the Land of Oz, who all gain sentience upon entering the fairy land. In the 1939 film, the Lion is the only animal that appears capable of speech, while other animals that appear, like Toto, birds, horses, cats and monkeys, are all incapable of human vocal communication. Maguire’s text relies heavily on the implication only some Animals (signified by capitalization of the word) in Oz can talk, their subjugation by the Wizard playing huge role in the plot of both Maguire’s book and the musical adaption.
-But what I find most telling is that none of the witches in Baum’s novel directly interact with one another (later novels in the Oz series withstanding). The famous confrontation between the two witches in Munchkinland was entirely a fabrication of the 1939 film’s screenwriters. The musical’s entire premise, and a large portion of the novel’s, relies on the idea that these two opposing witches shared some past which informs their conflict in that scene, but that moment is solely a product of the 1939 film.
---
I think the way Maguire skirted copyright is incredibly clever and certainly well within fair-use (and probably long past any statute-of-limitations for any kind of damages sought by WB), but I find it wild that such a popular franchise as Wicked has basically used legal gray areas to bring a rainbow of color to Oz, all while claiming use of public domain versions of characters, and clearly mining the trademarked versions of those characters for most of their inspiration.
***Edit for clarity: A prequel is “a literary, dramatic or cinematic work whose story precedes that of a previous work, by focusing on events that occur before the original narrative”. It is just a word to describe the type of narrative Wicked and Oz the Great and Powerful are. Just like Journey Back to Oz and Return to Oz are “sequels” made by different production companies. It in no way connotes an “official” connection between legally distinct IPs. It is just a way to describe the function of the narrative.
​
TL;DR Wicked does not function as a prequel to the book by L. Frank Baum, but only serves as a prequel to the 1939 film, starring Judy Garland. This is evident because the Witch in Baum's book isn't green, doesn't ride a broom, only has one eye, no sister, and never interacts with Glinda (who is an amalgamation of two separate characters).

*Note: I am not a copyright lawyer, I'm not any kind of lawyer, nor am I making an accusation that anyone or any entity is infringing on the copyright or trademark of any other entities. That being said…
I have a theory that Wicked -- both Maguire's novel (Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, 1995) and more so the musical (Wicked, 2003 Universal Stage Productions) -- solely functions as a prequel to the 1939 MGM film the Wizard of Oz (now owned by WB), and not that film's public domain source novel the Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Let me explain...
Maguire wrote Wicked in 1994 in response to the Gulf War. His clever use of Oz characters passed scrutiny during publication in 1995 under parody and fair use laws, and because the Baum novel had long been in the public domain… as well as Ted Turner arranging to sell the MGM catalog to WB, circa 1997, making the timing ideal for Maguire's novel to skirt any copyright/trademark scrutiny for using elements from the non-public domain film.
We know what happened next, the book was a raging success and soon it was popular enough to be optioned by Universal and turned into a stage musical produced (after film & TV productions with Demi Moore and Salma Hayek separately attached failed to materialize). The musical opened first in San Francisco for try-outs and then Broadway in 2003. And writers Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman liberally peppered even more direct homages and winks to the 1939 film into leitmotifs and other elements of the book, score, and staging.
But, Wicked has TOO many elements from the 1939 film, and NOT ENOUGH from Baum's original book, to merit it being called a prequel to the book (this is also true of Disney’s 2013 admitted attempt to cash-in on Wicked’s success, Oz: the Great and Powerful – which is even more egregious than Wicked, and ironic, as its own title is directly lifted from the 1939 film misquote of the book’s moniker of “Oz the Great and Terrible”).
---
So now, let's look at some of key differences between the book the Wonderful Wizard of Oz (WWoOZ) and its film adaption from 1939, and how Wicked (and that Disney rip-off - though I don’t want to have to keep mentioning that movie so just assume most of what I say applies there too) reinterprets these events and characters:
- In the book WWoOz it is established that there are four cardinal witches in the land of Oz. Dorothy vanquishes two unrelated Wicked Witches in the East (WWotE) and West (WWotW) as well as encountering the benevolent unnamed good witch of the North at the start of her adventure and a separate good witch, Glinda of the South, who helps her home in the end. MGM condensed the good witches into one character “Glinda the Good Witch of the North” as well as adding a subplot turning the Wicked Witches into sisters (providing Margaret Hamilton’s Witch more direct motivation to pursue Judy Garland’s Dorothy via the Witch’s presumed right to collateral inheritance of her sister’s shoes). Both Maguire and Disney follow the 1939 film’s continuity regarding these relationships making the wicked witches siblings, and Glinda the sole “good witch” in opposition to them.
-WWotW as depicted in Baum’s novel bears little to no resemblance to the green-skinned Margaret Hamilton in the 1939 film, and subsequently Maguire’s Elphaba. Oz illustrator W. W. Denslow, whom Baum worked closely with when designing the characters, depicts the witch as a hunched old hag with three pigtails and an eyepatch, tall brimmed hat, ruffed collar, coat and skirt. While MGM’s design team, led by legendary costumer Adrian, initially tested several looks for WWotW (including a glamorous sequined look inspired by Disney’s Evil Queen in Snow White). MGM screenwriter, Herman Mankiewicz (who expanded the role of the wicked witch from book to screenplay, and wrote several key lines for her including, “I’ll get you my pretty!”) insisted "witches should be ugly!" And Margaret Hamilton’s Witch was given green skin to broadcast her “wickedness” as well as make her face and hands stand-out against her black medieval gown, cloak and sharp brimmed hat. Needless to say this film only element of green-skin becomes a major plot point of Wicked. And Susan Hilferty’s stage designs for Elphaba retain the 1939 film’s silhouette and dark color palette.
-Another difference in Baum’s WWotW is that she only had one eye, but that it "was as powerful as a telescope", and this is how she spies on her enemies. MGM was again inspired by Snow White's Queen, and popular imagery of fortune tellers, giving Hamilton’s Witch the ability to scry in a large crystal ball, which made for some of the most memorable visuals of the film, of her looming eerily over the heroes. Unlike Baum’s WWotW, Maguire’s Elphaba retains vision in both eyes, and inherits her film counterpart's scrying abilities (primarily using a blown-glass orb).
-Baum’s WWotW importantly carries an umbrella, not a broomstick, as a source of protection for her aquaphobia. She has no need for transportation, her location is limited to her castle in the West of Oz. MGM’s script, howvever, gave Hamilton’s Witch a means of transportation that had long been popular in witch mythology, a broomstick, involving her more directly in the narrative (as well as giving the Wizard a macguffin to send Dorothy after). Maguire also chose to make a broomstick a means of travel for Elphaba, and Stephen Schwartz's “Defying Gravity”, the centerpiece of the musical, which sees a scene not included in the novel, where Elphaba defiantly flies over the Emerald City in protest of the Wizard, cemented the broom’s icon status within the framework of the Wicked franchise.
-The Flying Monkeys in Baum’s novel have a rich backstory involving their enslavement at the hands of a sorceress named Gaylette. The monkeys’ terms of imprisonment require they obey three commands given by whomever possess a Golden Cap, which the WWotW owns and uses to capture Dorothy and her friends. Dorothy comes into possession of the Golden Cap after WWotW’s demise (similar to her inheriting the slippers) and is able to command the monkeys to her own benefit later in the book. The Golden Cap subplot was scrapped from the MGM film in favor of giving the witch a more ambiguous command over her uniformed simian air force (though it still appears in the final cut as a prop tossed by Hamilton's Witch to Nikko, the flying monkey). Maguire’s Wicked makes no mention of Baum’s golden cap, giving Elphaba a monkey factotum, similar to MGM’s Nikko, now called Chistrey. The monkeys are given a vivisection backstory in Maguire's novel and are a result of the Grimmerie’s levitation spell in the musical, but Elphaba’s willful command of the their legions, without the limitations of the Golden Cap, is much more reminiscent of MGM’s Witch than Baum’s.
-Famously the slippers Dorothy inherits from the WWotE in Baum’s novel are made of silver metal (sterling silver shoes were popular as decorations and sugar bowls in Baum's day). The Slippers in the 1939 film were famously changed to ruby, so as to be more eye-catching against the technicolor yellow road. After some initial designs, MGM designer Adrian landed on the iconic red sequined pump seen in the film. Maguire’s novel, utilizing the film’s sibling backstory to motivate Elphaba, makes the famous pair of slippers into a sentimental pair of shoes adorned with beaded glass, in the musical referred to as "jeweled", which refract multiple colors, notably ruby red. Susan Hilferty’s choice of silver sequined pumps for the musical, given a red special lighting cue at a crucial moment, distinctly resemble Adrian’s 1939 design.
-Dorothy is a young child of roughly seven or eight years old in Baum’s novel and its illustrations. In Maguire’s take on the character she is depicted as a husky teenager prone to cloying musical outbursts. Teenage Judy Garland was famously derided at MGM for her weight, especially filming Oz, with Louis Mayor allegedly calling her his “little hunchback”.
-Animals in Oz in Baum’s text are all Imbued with the power of speech. Toto himself is able to speak in the land of Oz (revealed in the fifth Baum book), as well as a myriad animals from our world who travel to the Land of Oz, who all gain sentience upon entering the fairy land. In the 1939 film, the Lion is the only animal that appears capable of speech, while other animals that appear, like Toto, birds, horses, cats and monkeys, are all incapable of human vocal communication. Maguire’s text relies heavily on the implication only some Animals (signified by capitalization of the word) in Oz can talk, their subjugation by the Wizard playing huge role in the plot of both Maguire’s book and the musical adaption.
-But what I find most telling is that none of the witches in Baum’s novel directly interact with one another (later novels in the Oz series withstanding). The famous confrontation between the two witches in Munchkinland was entirely a fabrication of the 1939 film’s screenwriters. The musical’s entire premise, and a large portion of the novel’s, relies on the idea that these two opposing witches shared some past which informs their conflict in that scene, but that moment is solely a product of the 1939 film.
---
I think the way Maguire skirted copyright is incredibly clever and certainly well within fair-use (and probably long past any statute-of-limitations for any kind of damages sought by WB), but I find it wild that such a popular franchise as Wicked has basically used legal gray areas to bring a rainbow of color to Oz, all while claiming use of public domain versions of characters, and clearly mining the trademarked versions of those characters for most of their inspiration.
***Edit for clarity: A prequel is “a literary, dramatic or cinematic work whose story precedes that of a previous work, by focusing on events that occur before the original narrative”. It is just a word to describe the type of narrative Wicked and Oz the Great and Powerful are. Just like Journey Back to Oz and Return to Oz are “sequels” made by different production companies. It in no way connotes an “official” connection between legally distinct IPs. It is just a way to describe the function of the narrative.
​
TL;DR Wicked does not function as a prequel to the book by L. Frank Baum, but only serves as a prequel to the 1939 film, starring Judy Garland. This is evident because the Witch in Baum's book isn't green, doesn't ride a broom, only has one eye, no sister, and never interacts with Glinda (who is an amalgamation of two separate characters).

Disclaimer: This is my interpretation of how each song sounded like, so obviously, this is not objective.
Forget what I said about 1980. 1979 is easily the quintessential late 70s year for music, with all these disco songs on the charts. But 1980 comes close.

1. "My Sharona" - The Knack (late 70s/early 80s)
2. "Bad Girls" - Donna Summer (late 70s)
3. "Le Freak" - Chic (late 70s)
4. "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?" - Rod Stewart (late 70s)
5. "Reunited" - Peaches & Herb (late 70s)
6. "I Will Survive" - Gloria Gaynor (late 70s)
7. "Hot Stuff" - Donna Summer (late 70s)
8. "Y.M.C.A." - Village People (late 70s)
9. "Ring My Bell" - Anita Ward (late 70s)
10. "Sad Eyes" - Robert John (late 70s)
11. "Too Much Heaven" - Bee Gees (mid/late 70s)
12. "MacArthur Park" - Donna Summer (late 70s)
13. "When You're in Love with a Beautiful Woman" - Dr. Hook (late 70s)
14. "Makin' It" - David Naughton (late 70s)
15. "Fire" - The Pointer Sisters (late 70s)
16. "Tragedy" - Bee Gees (late 70s)
17. "A Little More Love" - Olivia Newton-John (late 70s)
18. "Heart of Glass" - Blondie (late 70s/early 80s)
19. "What a Fool Believes" - The Doobie Brothers (late 70s)
20. "Good Times" - Chic (late 70s)
21. "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" - Neil Diamond & Barbra Streisand (late 70s)
22. "Knock on Wood" - Amii Stewart (late 70s)
23. "Stumblin' In" - Suzi Quatro & Chris Norman (late 70s)
24. "Lead Me On" - Maxine Nightingale (late 70s)
25. "Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)" - The Jacksons (late 70s)
26. "Don't Cry Out Loud" - Melissa Manchester (late 70s)
27. "The Logical Song" - Supertramp (late 70s)
28. "My Life" - Billy Joel (late 70s)
29. "Just When I Needed You Most" - Randy VanWarmer (late 70s)
30. "You Can't Change That" - Raydio (late 70s)
31. "Shake Your Groove Thing" - Peaches & Herb (late 70s)
32. "I'll Never Love This Way Again" - Dionne Warwick (late 70s)
33. "Love You Inside Out" - Bee Gees (late 70s)
34. "I Want You to Want Me" - Cheap Trick (late 70s/early 80s)
35. "The Main Event/Fight" - Barbra Streisand (late 70s)
36. "Mama Can't Buy You Love" - Elton John (mid/late 70s)
37. "I Was Made for Dancin'" - Leif Garrett (mid/late 70s)
38. "After the Love Has Gone" - Earth, Wind & Fire (late 70s)
39. "Heaven Knows" - Donna Summer and Brooklyn Dreams (late 70s)
40. "The Gambler" - Kenny Rogers (late 70s)
41. "Lotta Love" - Nicolette Larson (mid/late 70s)
42. "Lady" - Little River Band (mid/late 70s)
43. "Heaven Must Have Sent You" - Bonnie Pointer (late 70s)
44. "Hold the Line" - Toto (late 70s)
45. "He's the Greatest Dancer" - Sister Sledge (late 70s)
46. "Sharing the Night Together" - Dr. Hook (late 70s)
47. "She Believes in Me" - Kenny Rogers (late 70s)
48. "In the Navy" - Village People (late 70s)
49. "Music Box Dancer" - Frank Mills (late 70s)
50. "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" - The Charlie Daniels Band (late 70s)
51. "Gold" - John Stewart (late 70s)
52. "Goodnight Tonight" - Wings (late 70s/early 80s)
53. "We Are Family" - Sister Sledge (late 70s)
54. "Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy" - Bad Company (late 70s/early 80s)
55. "Every 1's a Winner" - Hot Chocolate (late 70s)
56. "Take Me Home" - Cher (late 70s)
57. "Boogie Wonderland" - Earth, Wind & Fire & The Emotions (late 70s)
58. "(Our Love) Don't Throw It All Away" - Andy Gibb (late 70s)
59. "What You Won't Do for Love" - Bobby Caldwell (late 70s)
60. "New York Groove" - Ace Frehley (late 70s)
61. "Sultans of Swing" - Dire Straits (late 70s)
62. "I Want Your Love" - Chic (late 70s)
63. "Chuck E.'s In Love" - Rickie Lee Jones (late 70s)
64. "I Love the Nightlife" - Alicia Bridges (late 70s)
65. "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" - McFadden & Whitehead (late 70s)
66. "Lonesome Loser" - Little River Band (late 70s)
67. "Renegade" - Styx (late 70s)
68. "Love Is the Answer" - England Dan & John Ford Coley (late 70s)
69. "Got to Be Real" - Cheryl Lynn (late 70s)
70. "Born to Be Alive" - Patrick Hernandez (late 70s)
71. "Shine a Little Love" - Electric Light Orchestra (late 70s)
72. "I Just Fall in Love Again" - Anne Murray (late 70s)
73. "Shake It" - Ian Matthews (late 70s)
74. "I Was Made for Lovin' You" - Kiss (late 70s)
75. "I Just Wanna Stop" - Gino Vannelli (late 70s)
76. "Disco Nights (Rock-Freak)" - GQ (late 70s)
77. "Ooo Baby Baby" - Linda Ronstadt (late 70s)
78. "September" - Earth, Wind & Fire (late 70s)
79. "Time Passages" - Al Stewart (late 70s)
80. "Rise" - Herb Alpert (late 70s)
81. "Don't Bring Me Down" - Electric Light Orchestra (late 70s/early 80s)
82. "Promises" - Eric Clapton (late 70s)
83. "Get Used to It" - Roger Voudouris (late 70s)
84. "How Much I Feel" - Ambrosia (mid/late 70s)
85. "Suspicions" - Eddie Rabbitt (mid/late 70s)
86. "You Take My Breath Away" - Rex Smith (late 70s)
87. "How You Gonna See Me Now" - Alice Cooper (late 70s)
88. "Double Vision" - Foreigner (late 70s)
89. "Everytime I Think of You" - The Babys (late 70s)
90. "I Got My Mind Made Up (You Can Get It Girl)" - Instant Funk (late 70s)
91. "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough" - Michael Jackson (late 70s)
92. "Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)" - Robert Palmer (early 80s)
93. "Somewhere in the Night" - Barry Manilow (late 70s)
94. "We've Got Tonight" - Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band (late 70s)
95. "Dance the Night Away" - Van Halen (late 70s)
96. Dancin' Shoes" - Nigel Olsson (late 70s)
97. "The Boss" - Diana Ross (late 70s)
98. "Sail On" - Commodores (late 70s)
99. "I Do Love You" - GQ (late 70s)
100. "Strange Way" - Firefall (mid 70s)

Here's the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ufnKTvR28w

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 230: Darker Than Darkness
All that remained of the shadow demon was a thin sinew of black fabric, caught beneath the tip of Coppelia’s scythe.
She hoisted up her weapon with a bright smile, then plucked the strand away.
“Ooooh~ not bad! I’ve always wanted my very own … thing!”
I narrowed my eyes at it.
The only remains of a shadow demon from the abyss. A deadly shapeshifting parasite of fear.
An undoubtedly rare, expensive and powerful material. A reagent sought after by artificers, alchemists and blacksmiths the continent over.
It also looked like … yes, a piece of cat hair.
“Please tell me you won’t use this in a smoothie.”
“Ahaha, don’t worry, I won’t use this in a smoothie.”
“Good.”
“... I mean, just look at it, right? This isn’t even enough for a cup. I don’t believe in sprinkles. If you can’t chew it, you can’t taste it. I’ll wait for my next dead shadow demon and combine the two!”
“Coppelia, it cannot possibly be healthy to digest shadowy demon bits.”
“Eh, it’s probably fine. There are zero calories in shadows. It only contains the essence of raw, simmering hatred and a distaste for all life. It’s probably healthier than anything we’ve eaten.”
I gave it a moment’s consideration.
Then, I nodded. It was a faultless argument.
A hum of satisfaction and a puff of air was the full extent of Coppelia’s expert curation techniques. Needing nothing else, she duly dropped the thing into the pouch by her waist, joining all the other odd possessions I sometimes accidentally glimpsed and always purposefully chose not to ask about.
“W-Wonderful … !”
The sound of a clapping audience promptly rang out throughout the chamber.
Nearby, a maid’s eyes shone with relief as she was guaranteed another day to provide the tea service I’d yet to judge her solely on irrespective of her other skills.
I accepted it with a dignified flick of my hair. Especially as it was a far better reaction than what the generic robed man had to offer. He was away in his own world, furiously scribbling at a rate which meant his scroll was enlarging even as he wrote.
However, since no world without me was worth residing in, I kindly made my way over with my sweetest smile –before poking the back of his scroll.
Letters jumped out at once, staining his woollen robes.
He ceased writing at once. But no look of ire fell upon me.
Only the excitement of a child in a man’s body discovering a new toy.
“That was remarkable,” he said, less to me and more where the shadow demon had existed. “Why, to witness the behaviour of such an errant creature is something which cannot be achieved in simulated environments! There’s precious little documentation on shadow demons inhabiting instead of consuming the shadows of others. Its movements, its behaviour and its method of deceasement are all worthy of being noted in the Journal Of Magical Creatures!”
“Wonderful. And I hope that when it is, the entry will correctly cite that it was a beautiful, passing girl and a highly flexible clockwork doll who studied it–both of whom shall insist on payment for every word scribbled.”
I held out my hand.
The generic robed man merely offered me a blink instead. A common currency among the poor. And yet when I offered it in lieu of payment after being told that I had to pay for the potted plant Apple ate, others had the gall to look indignant. The double standards!
“Payment? My girl, you broke down my door and entered my sanctum illegally!”
“A matter of definition. Of which mine is the only one which matters. But you needn’t fear. It’s clear as our surroundings that your stock dark tower possesses nothing of value to me.”
“I wish to repeat that my furnishings are upstairs.”
“And I rejoice in not being forced to judge them. No, it is no moth eaten hammock I desire from you. Simply knowledge for knowledge. As it’s highly unlikely this is the only bat laden refuge in these woods, I wish to know where I may find an errant baroness fleeing with the stench of mischief in her wake. Have you a neighbour who fits this description?”
The generic robed man shifted slightly, his wrinkles becoming more pronounced under his beard.
Ah. So he did.
“I am the Great Wizard Dorlund. Not the Great Nosy Dorlund. I have seen the sauntering schemes of evil and the bright trail of heroism pass by the seclusion of my tower for many a year, and all go unanswered before my door. My interests are in my own studies. Not the doings of others.”
In response, I poked the back of the scroll once again.
“And how, dare I ask, does the Great Wizard Dorlund pay his taxes while so secluded?”
He stilled for a moment, his mouth pausing in the midst of a reply.
“Excuse me?”
“Your taxes. You are the owner of this tower, I assume?”
“Yes?”
“Well, then you must pay residency taxes. So long as you enjoy the comfort and security of this fair kingdom, you must pay for those who defend the bats upon your tower.”
“My bats do not require safekeeping. And nor do I, for that matter.”
“Because you wield magic, which requires a multitude of safety permits if conducted within a woodland zone, and if you do so in exchange for barter or crowns, then you need a trading permit as well. And if you conduct academic research, this tower also classes as a workshop and requires its own separate licence. I assume during the many years you’ve spent here that you’ve acquired the correct documentation?”
The man opened his mouth to retort.
Nothing came out but a small gulp. And so he opted to distract me by glancing over at the only person with no means to assist him in his defence.
“Mmmghm … Mhhrhhgmmm …”
A gagged, bound and caged woman now desperately hoping not to be forgotten.
… Because I absolutely hadn’t done that. Not at all.
The generic robed man gave a pointed cough towards her direction.
“I will not reveal the locations or doings of my neighbours … but perhaps others found wandering in these woods will.”
He returned to his scroll, believing the conversation to be done.
Perhaps this one was. But I didn’t forgive unpaid taxes. Yet nor did I forgive bouts of treason by my nobility. His schedule with my tax inspectors would simply come later.
I turned to the peasant.
Her reaction was to become perfectly still beneath her saviour’s shadow and gentle smile. A moment later, her eyes glanced over to Coppelia, who was now twirling her giant blackened scythe to Renise’s continued applause.
Fresh sweat began to roll down her face.
I looked at her with pity. Undoubtedly, she was still traumatised by the demon that’d terrorised her.
“Coppelia, could you please release this peasant back to her farm?”
“Sure can~”
“Mmhhgghhhh!!!”
In a blink, the scythe casually swept towards the peasant.
Its tip jammed itself into the cage’s lock.
The woman became even more still as she looked at that scythe. Which was just as well. With a little tug, the door fell off, followed by Coppelia sending her scythe upwards and swiping cleanly through the ropes binding the peasant’s hands and mouth.
A look of horror followed as the scythe retreated … until it was replaced with a groan instead.
“Ughhhhhh …” said the woman, her voice hoarse and broken. “Oh boy … I … I thought it was over …”
“It is never over,” I replied kindly as I leaned over her. “Not so long as summer nears and our fields remain alarmingly unworked. But no matter your misfortune, know that your luck is now greater. Rejoice, for all the days you now see will burn all the brighter.”
I received a slow … very slow nod.
“Uh … thank you … it was awful … really awful … I could feel it … that creature in my mind … like it was always breathing down on me … a terrible, terrible darkness was lifted …”
“A darkness which had little cause to be stalking a farm. I take it from the generic robed man’s less than subtle hint that you did not come across it entirely by accident?”
The farmer shook her head.
She sucked in a deep breath before she continued. I leaned away slightly, unsure what powerful breath attack peasants released upon exhaling.
“Yeah … I definitely hold up my hands to that one. I shouldn’t have gone in these woods. My mother always taught me not to. Now I know why. Worse things than wild hogs around here, that’s for sure.”
“Of course there is. I saw at least three badger trails amidst the roots trying to claim my ankles. For what reason would you possibly face such terrors without such basics as an enchanted sword?”
The woman offered no response. At first.
After taking in the sight of my sword with a slightly widened mouth, her expression became harder. A noble anxiousness to return to the fields came upon her as she shuffled in the cage, even as she lacked the strength to crawl away.
“Not because I wanted to. I was looking for Momo.”
“Momo? Who is this? Your daughter?”
“No, Momo’s my cat.”
I covered my face with a hand.
Ignoring the giggling by my loyal handmaiden, I preemptively sucked in patience for the conversation ahead. Nearby, I could hear a generic robed man scribbling upon his scroll again.
I hoped it was a ledger for my tax inspectors.
“Very well,” I said as vision reluctantly returned. “And why were you looking for your cat?”
“Bloody thieves is why!” The woman feebly clenched her fists. “They crook Momo in the dead of night! Oh, I knew it was them. Heard the buggers when the pots and pans came tumbling down, just like when they took Toto and Peppy. It’d be half alright if they just took my crowns, but no, they gotta take my cats! Why do they do that?”
She looked imploringly at me.
I had no answers. Nobody did. And anyone who claimed to, the Adventurer’s Guild would surely silence them for the knowledge.
“No meaning can be derived from the workings of criminals. But just as little can be gleaned from your response. Thieves took your cats. But instead of plastering your request upon the nearest guild wall to compete with all the rest, you went trundling through a forest.”
The peasant looked indignant.
“You don’t own a cat, do you?”
“No.”
“Then you wouldn’t know. I saw them take Momo right in front of me. I wasn’t going to let them go. Not while Toto and Peppy waited too.”
The farmer squeezed her fists harder.
“Well, I found the bloody thieves, all right! I found them all. And you wouldn’t guess where!”
She waited for me to guess. I rolled my hands instead.
“Mayor Mitchel’s old farm. They’ve taken the whole lot.”
“A what now?”
“A farm. Back when Hartzwiese was small enough to have a mayor. Mayor Mitchel had a nice little home for himself. All his land’s been empty since he passed. Or so I figured. Now it’s been taken over by the forest and these thieves and all their cousins. They filled the place and everything around it. I reckon more than the garrison will be needed to take them out.”
She shook his head in dismay.
“I tried to run, but that fiend got me faster than any hound. That place isn’t right. Something about that farm made all the hairs on end stand up. I’ve got a really bad feeling about it.”
I offered the peasant a soothing smile … just before raising my hand to barely cover it.
“Oho … ohohoho … oohohohohohohohoho!!”
She froze at once, her face whitening even more than when the shadow demon had gnawed upon her senses. After all, a member of my nobility residing in a farm was even more shameful than any dark tower purchasable from a brochure.
My, hadn’t this baroness been busy?
Hags. Landless knights. Thieves. And now their own little barn for them to call home.
A suitable abode for the rodents of my kingdom to gather.
A true menagerie of horrors. But it was missing the most frightful thing of all.
A shadow of my own, far darker than any to inhabit these woods.
“Ohhohohoho … you need not fear,” I said kindly towards the shrinking peasant. “What you feel is the coming of authority here to fill the pockmarks of this land. So wield your tools and return to your fields, where you may enjoy the bliss of the soil and the coming sounds of weeping mixed with the gurgling of soap. For no amount of creatures or brigands may take you away from your duties.”
I smiled once more, waiting for the peasant to jump to her feet, cage and all.
She merely remained still.
A tragic sight. To think her vigour would be so thoroughly drained. My farmers were not allowed to take breaks. And those who enforced them upon my peasants were expected to work in their stead.
Something I was more than delighted to arrange.
To my puzzlement, the farmer slowly raised her hand.
“Um … I feel I should mention I’m not a farmer.”
“No?” I glanced down at the woman. Farming overalls, unkempt hair and a slightly puffy face. A postcard farmer. But this was the countryside. “... I see, are you perhaps a member of the local nobility? A lady, perhaps?”
“No, uh, I’m definitely not. We’ve actually met before.”
“Excuse me?”
I blinked.
Then, I leaned down to study her.
The peasant retreated into her cage. And as far as I was aware, this was most certainly one. I had as much recollection of her as I did the faces of my servants.
After a moment, she gave a cheerful smile despite her bout with a shadow demon.
“Hey again. It’s me. Tillie. Tillie Pilton.”
“... Who?”
“Probably don’t recognise me without the eyepatch, huh? Hahah. I wouldn’t, either. We met on Port Defiance, back when I was provisional guildmaster of the speculative branch there. I sent you on a random fetch quest, remember?”
She covered one of her eyes.
At once, I gasped as memories of a quasi-guildmaster desperate to leave Soap Island before it became the heart of my export-based empire filled my mind.
I was utterly aghast.
Why, not only did these parasites cling to my kingdom, but also my memories!
I … I thought she was a farmer! Someone who wasn’t a net drain on my kingdom! If I knew who she actually was, I would have looked at the suspicious ritualistic circle and asked the generic robed man if he required any additional candles!
“Oh boy, ain’t this awkward,” she said with an embarrassed wave of her hand. “That’s twice now you’ve saved my butt. First time, you got me off that island. At least I’m pretty sure it’s you. Not many other adventurers around to help the 1st Princess with bringing down the Golden Prince. Gosh, that was news. Didn’t think that sending you on a quest would have you butting heads with the guy. All those months I spent trying to get off that island–and it turns out all I had to do was my job!”
I took a step back, horror in my wake.
“Gosh, you wouldn’t believe how fast headquarters shooed me away! They didn’t want anyone finding out there was a branch on a pirate island. Bad for optics, you know? I got sent home pronto–and they gave me a cushy job as deputy guildmaster! I even have my own desk! A real one, this time. Not just a bar counter. You really saved me. I’ve been meaning to thank you already. I won’t forget this, you know?”
She sat up slightly.
A poor impersonation of a receptionist at work. But even a poor impersonation was a sight more dark and harrowing than any demon spawned from the abyss.
“In fact, now that I’m a deputy guildmaster, if you give me your copper ring, I can–”
“Ohho … hohoho?! M-My apologies, but whatever words you’re about to say must wait … potentially forever … I’ve a permanently busy schedule including scolding a baroness, wrinkling my nose at dinner and then staring at a ceiling! I … I cannot tarry!”
“But this would only take a–”
I closed her cage.
Then, I swept towards the conveniently opened doorway with urgency in my steps.
Indeed, I had no time to waste! Each second I permitted the rodents to nibble away at my kingdom was another second spent away from the sanctuary of … of anywhere else!
Because if there was one thing more ominous than any amount of darkness, it was surely the personal gratitude of someone who sat behind a desk at the Adventurer’s Guild.
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Sudan’s War turns one, extreme weather kills hundreds, and a not-so-old virus has resurfaced.
Last Week in Collapse: April 14-20, 2024
This is Last Week in Collapse, a weekly newsletter compiling some of the most important, timely, useful, soul-crushing, ironic, stunning, exhausting, or otherwise must-see/can’t-look-away moments in Collapse.
This is the 121st newsletter. You can find the long April 7-13 edition here if you missed it last week. You can also receive these posts (with images) every Sunday in your email inbox with Substack.
——————————
Mount Ruang exploded on Wednesday, and experts worry that the mighty Indonesian stratovolcano may Collapse—causing a tsunami in the surrounding waters. Tens of thousands of people are being evacuated.
Scientists claim that Mali’s deadly heat wave a couple weeks ago—which killed 100+ people, most of whom were 60+ years old—would not have been possible were it not for manmade climate change. Shell Oil says that taking more action against climate change is “unrealistic.” A study in Nature Climate Change released on Wednesday forecasts losses of 10-17% of national GDP at 3 °C warming.
Flash floods killed 20+ people in Oman, and 1 in the UAE, forcing the temporary shutdown of Dubai’s airport—where a year’s worth of rain fell in a single day, setting a new daily record. In Mongolia, wildfires burnt 70,000+ hectares of forests and pastures. El Niño and the lingering effects of 2023’s Cyclone Freddy have been blamed for farming problems in Malawi. Scotland is experiencing its wettest April on record.
Good news: Greece has banned bottom trawling in its marine areas. Bad news: the ban takes effect in some marine sites in 2026, and won’t cover all protected waters until 2030. And, since Greece is the first European country to implement a ban, no other nearby nation has implemented such a restriction.
Some corporations know what many have long forgotten: “water is more valuable than oil.” One company flipped the water rights of a town in Arizona for $14M profit. States in the Colorado River basin are experiencing the prisoner’s dilemma the hard way—and Mexico’s growing water crisis is causing them to withhold water from Texas, portending a poor citrus & sugar season ahead. In central Mexico, drought and water theft, plus deforestation, are taking a severe toll on water use, fishing, and tourism. In parts of India, groundwater is gone, and farmers rely on trucked water to sustain their dying farms.
As flooding worsens in western Siberia, radioactive waste, deposited in two underground reservoirs, is threatening to resurface, potential flowing down rivers to the Arctic Ocean. Meanwhile, the desertification of the Aral Sea in Kazakhstan & Uzbekistan is leading to increased dust pollution, which accelerates glacial melt and impacts human health. The once-large salty lake has transformed the land into a large desert, the world’s youngest, known as the Aralkum. This desert is a little smaller than Latvia—but growing.
A U.S. non-profit released the 24-page report on America’s 10 Most Endangered Rivers of 2024, and the results span the entire country. New Mexico’s rivers are the most endangered, particularly after a 2023 Supreme Court ruling cut protections for seasonal rivers. The loss of wetlands is leading to the destruction of two Mississippi rivers, the second-most endangered. Tennessee’s Duck River is dropping because of human overconsumption, #3 on the list. Drought, human use, and pollution is damaging #4, the Santa Cruz River. #5, the Little Pee Dee River in the Carolinas, is mostly at risk from the development of a new interstate and its destructive impact on wetlands.
“Climate sensitivity” indicates the relationship between CO2 levels and global warming. A study from Science Advances looked into ancient earthly temperatures (from 19,000 BCE) to better forecast future temperatures based on CO2 ppm. It adjusted our worst-case scenario threshold from 5 °C warming to just 4 °C. The Southern and East Pacific Oceans are forecast to warm faster than others. Researchers also determined that low-pressure storms sweeping into Australia are becoming more common—and carrying more water.
Part of Pakistan “experienced precipitation levels exceeding the historical average by 99 percent” from April 1-17, and lightning reportedly killed 28 people…Dozens others were killed by the storms— at least 135 dead altogether. Flooding in southern China displaced tens of thousands.
Parts of Bulgaria, Romania, and Türkiye set new records for April night temperatures. Western Sahara broke an April record, as did several Balkan countries. Mexico City also broke a temperature record.
19+ died in landslides in Indonesia. 15+ forest fires burn in Thailand. Flooding killed 58+ people in Tanzania over the last two weeks. Flash floods in Afghanistan slew at least 33.
Climate change is being blamed for cockroach infestations in Spain—as well as the changing genetic composition of cockroaches. Scientists say that, as wildlife dies, nature may become more of an “acoustic fossil,” still & dead.
——————————
A new strain of monkeypox—”mpox” as it was later rebranded—has surfaced in the DRC, and officials claim it has “pandemic potential.” This variant is said to be more contagious and doesn’t always appear on tests. Officials say it is transmitted mostly through sexual contact. This strain of Mpox “is endemic in an animal reservoir in nature yet to be identified,” one scientist said.
H5N1 continues to lurk in the background, with doctors alarmed about the virus’ expansion and terrified about a future human-to-human transmission. Another disease, “rabbit fever,” also known as tularemia is spreading through beavers in Utah; it can be transmitted through the bite of a tick or fly.
The World Bank claims that COVID increased poverty and income inequality in many of the world’s poorest countries. The advance edition of the 130-page report is heavy on financial graphs, and paints a mixed picture of the future.
“COVID-19 saw GDP growth in these {very low income} countries fall to 0.3 percent in 2020—the lowest rate recorded since the early 1980s….The combination of pre-pandemic vulnerabilities, recent overlapping crises, and wider problems—including the effects of climate change and increases in violence and conflict—is weighing heavily on these countries’ economic and social development….These countries account for 92 percent of the world’s food-insecure people, after a doubling of their food insecure populations since 2019….a more fundamental structural slowdown is likely to persist globally throughout the remainder of the decade…” -excerpts from the report
Several large regions in China are seeing buildings sinking—some by more than 1 cm per year—as water extraction accelerates. Many cities are sinking faster than the sea levels rise. In California, similar things are happening in the San Joaquin Valley.
Sierra Leone hasn’t paid its electricity provider—so their power has been shut off for weeks. The country owes nearly $50M (USD) to Karpowership, a Turkish energy company providing mobile power from a large powership offshore. In Ecuador, Drought has led to a hydropower crisis, feeding into their growing insecurity. Nigeria’s power grid Collapsed again last week, for the 6th time this year.
A British doctor who held a sign saying “no new oil” at a Just Stop Oil protest in the UK may lose her license to practice medicine. Meanwhile, Canada’s healthcare system continues to Collapse from extended wait times & overworked medical staff. Coffee prices hit new highs as shortages tighten in Brazil & Vietnam. British food prices are increasing as well, a combination of local flooding and international shortages & shipping issues.
A study into pollution from coal trains, supposedly the first of its kind, confirms the obvious: increased rates of heart disease, asthma, and pneumonia to those living nearby.
“I'm bedridden for two to three weeks if I try to do a gentle walk," said a former triathlete with a terrible case of Long COVID. A study in Environment International determined that toxins from some microplastics can be absorbed through skin contact, especially through sweaty skin.
Shadow banking, unregulated electronic traders, and the growth of private investing markets have reportedly contributed to increased instability in global financial markets. Institutions are rapidly trying to “de-risk” their investments, but the share of global private & governmental debt has never been greater—and the piles of cash held by colossal megacorporations like Amazon & Apple & Meta & Alphabet, etc. have never been larger. While most countries’ growth forecasts are fairly dim—or even negative—the U.S. forecast is still decent, carried, perhaps, by corporate extraction and rising consumer spending/debt.
The development of several Eurasian Wars is also adding instability into a sensitive system. The Gulf region in the Middle East holds 48% of the world’s known oil reserves, and the specter of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz will complicate international shipping even more. Already, 4 major waterways—the Panama Canal, the Bab el-Mandeb, the Turkish Straits, and the Suez Canal—have been partially restricted by climate change or War. At least the Panama Canal is transiting more ships now that rains have temporarily returned to the region.
——————————
A NATO Maritime Commander is warning about the threat of underwater hybrid warfare, principally by Russia interfering with undersea cables. A couple Russian spies and a would-be assassin were arrested in Europe last week.
Some analysts believe we are close to a major nuclear incident, at Zaporizhzhia—or even a tactical nuke being detonated somewhere. The risk of World War III is growing, experts say. The ongoing development & deployment of suicide drones—cheap to manufacture/use, but expensive to intercept—is reshaping the battlefield, and forcing it into an economic/industrial domain again.
American funding for Ukraine and Israel and Taiwan has passed—$95B in toto. Another bill has passed to potentially force the sale of TikTok, arguably the world’s most popular app. Russia bombed an apartment & train station in Dnipro, killing 8 and injuring 28 more. Ukraine supposedly took out a Russian bomber in the sky. Russia claims they shot down 50 Ukrainian drones targeting Russian energy infrastructure. Russia is also hiring more soldiers in a momentary push to boost its manpower without using conscription—but they are also conscripting female convicts now. A former NATO commander claimed that Russia does “not have the capability to knock Ukraine out of the war.” Others disagree.
A deportation flight from the U.S. to Haiti took off last week, carrying 50+ Haitians back to northern Haiti. The besieged capital is being likened to a jail. Though a new transition council has been put together, wresting control from the gangs which torment the failed state poses a challenge, since few outsiders are willing to get involved in the profitless enterprise of stabilizing Haiti.
Burkina Faso’s relations with France worsen, and Chad’s government may be planning to kick out American troops stationed in the country. Kenya’s top military man died in a helicopter crash. Peace talks with a splinter group of the FARC have broken down in Colombia, and some authorities say the ceasefire has been broken by militants of the ~3,500-member group. India began voting last week; the six-week election will conclude on June 4.
The Philippines government has made steady progress for decades in eliminating rural communist insurgents, yet some 2,000 poor fighters cling on in the jungled islands. A more pressing problem for them are Chinese incursions into their waters, a years-long problem which is worsening relations between the two nations.
IDF forces are positioning around southern Gaza, gathering artillery, tents, and APCs for the upcoming Rafah offensive. The U.S. is urging caution ahead of the Rafah operation, but still withholds recognition of Palestine as a full UN member state. Hezbollah and IDF forces continue exchanging attacks in the aftermath of Iran’s 300+ drone attack on Israel.
Rebels in Myanmar are fighting near the Thai border, and making progress, and employing drones to drop explosives. Ecuador votes today on a number of referenda designed to give security forces more power. Panama’s leading presidential candidate is promising to close the Darien Gap and stop the flow of migrants.
Sudan’s Civil War turned one year old, and analysts claim it’s still getting worse for everyone in the area. One year on, Sudan’s middle-class has been obliterated, 8.5M+ people have been displaced, sexual violence has expanded considerably, humanitarian aid is being blocked, and the Darfur Genocide has restarted. Thousands of people flee the country every day, cholera is growing, and the old social contract has gone up in flames. There is no going back.
——————————
Select comments/threads from the subreddit last week suggest:
-The corrupt UK government is being stripped and sold for parts, according to this bleak weekly observation from somewhere in northern Britain. Traffic violations mount, bureaucracy has ground to a halt, the water infrastructure has gone to shit, higher education has gotten hollowed out and profit-seeking, rents are expensive, and the NHS is moving towards the chopping block. Some might say they’ve already Collapsed.
-There will be no mass awakening to Collapse, says this comment by u/Deguilded. Many of the other comments in the thread are worth reading, too.
-Gone is the reservoir at Morocco’s a-Massire Dam. 97% depleted. This crossposted image contrasts the reservoir from just 6 years ago and how low it is today… Another one bites the dust.
-George Orwell might have been a Collapsenik here, had he lived another 75 years, if this thoughtful thread if any indication. Many of the philosophies he wrote about are especially relevant in this age.
Got any feedback, questions, comments, complaints, upvotes, wilderness land for sale, doomy job opportunities, manifestos, Earth Day party invitations, etc.? Check out the Last Week in Collapse SubStack if you don’t want to check collapse every Sunday, you can receive this newsletter sent to your (or someone else’s) email inbox every weekend. What did I forget this week?

Part One > Part Two > Part Three
1 ) Show me John 3:5 and I'll show you the following:
John 3:36 (ESV): «Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.»
Notice that this verse is from the same time *and context and occasion* of John 3:3-8. Whoever believed in the Son had eternal life before this person had made their way to the river to be baptized. Here's another one:
Luke 18:9-14 (ESV): «9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed[a] thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”»
That passage is also from the same general time as John 3:3-8. No checklist of requirements for mercy and forgiveness is offered there. Here's another passage:
Luke 23:32-43 (ESV): «32 Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. 33 And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. 34 And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”[a] And they cast lots to divide his garments. 35 And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” 36 The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine 37 and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” 38 There was also an inscription over him,[b] “This is the King of the Jews.”
39 One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him,[c] saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”»
Yet again, that was from the same general time as John 3:3-8. “Oh, but maybe he got baptized earlier.” You think so? Take a look at Mark 15:32 (ESV):
«Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also reviled him.»
Do any of these criminals sound like the type to get John's baptism?
So there are three passages of the Scriptures which contradict a use of John 3:3-8--or rather, the use of John 3:5--to argue that one *absolutely* must be baptized if he is to be forgiven or saved or granted everlasting life. Appeals to authority, apostolic proximity, or other Scriptures will do nothing to change the facts of biblical exegesis and abductive reasoning that point in an opposite direction.
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2 ) Claim that no one can be saved apart from baptism and I will show you the following:
Acts 10:43-48 (ESV): «43 To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”
44 While Peter was still saying these things, the Holy Spirit fell on all who heard the word. 45 And the believers from among the circumcised who had come with Peter were amazed, because the gift of the Holy Spirit was poured out even on the Gentiles. 46 For they were hearing them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter declared, 47 “Can anyone withhold water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” 48 And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they asked him to remain for some days.»
Acts 11:11-17 (ESV): «11 And behold, at that very moment three men arrived at the house in which we were, sent to me from Caesarea. 12 And the Spirit told me to go with them, making no distinction. These six brothers also accompanied me, and we entered the man's house. 13 And he told us how he had seen the angel stand in his house and say, ‘Send to Joppa and bring Simon who is called Peter; 14 he will declare to you a message by which you will be saved, you and all your household.’ 15 As I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell on them just as on us at the beginning. 16 And I remembered the word of the Lord, how he said, ‘John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ 17 If then God gave the same gift to them as he gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could stand in God's way?”»
Acts 15:7-9 (ESV): «7 And after there had been much debate, Peter stood up and said to them, “Brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that by my mouth the Gentiles should hear the word of the gospel and believe. 8 And God, who knows the heart, bore witness to them, by giving them the Holy Spirit just as he did to us, 9 and he made no distinction between us and them, having cleansed their hearts by faith.»
Ephesians 1:13-14 (ESV): «13 In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, 14 who is the guarantee[d] of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it,[e] to the praise of his glory.»
Cornelius and his household received the Spirit when they believed and before they were baptized. Their hearts were cleansed by faith and they were given a guarantee of their future inheritance.
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3 ) Claim that the thief on the cross and Cornelius' household are “exceptions to the rules” and I'll show you the following:
John 6:28-29 (ESV): «28 Then they said to him, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” 29 Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.”»
Romans 3:21-22 (ESV): «21 But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it— 22 the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction:»
Romans 4:1-10 (ESV): «1 What then shall we say was gained by Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh? 2 For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. 3 For what does the Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.” 4 Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. 5 And to the one who does not work but believes in[a] him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness, 6 just as David also speaks of the blessing of the one to whom God counts righteousness apart from works:
7 “Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven,
and whose sins are covered;
8 blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”
9 Is this blessing then only for the circumcised, or also for the uncircumcised? For we say that faith was counted to Abraham as righteousness. 10 How then was it counted to him? Was it before or after he had been circumcised? It was not after, but before he was circumcised.»
Before you go to James 2 to counterargue, remember what Romans 4:10 says. (And even after that, remember that the word "justify" can mean either *cause to be righteous* or *prove to be righteous.*) Continuing:
Acts 10:43 (ESV): «To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”»
Acts 13:39 (ESV): «39 and by him everyone who believes is freed[a] from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses.»
Acts 16:29-34 (ESV): «29 And the jailer[a] called for lights and rushed in, and trembling with fear he fell down before Paul and Silas. 30 Then he brought them out and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” 31 And they said, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” 32 And they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. 33 And he took them the same hour of the night and washed their wounds; and he was baptized at once, he and all his family. 34 Then he brought them up into his house and set food before them. And he rejoiced along with his entire household that he had believed in God.»
Ephesians 1:13-14 (ESV): «13 In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, 14 who is the guarantee[a] of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it,[b] to the praise of his glory.»
Galatians 3:5-9 (ESV): «5 Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing with faith— 6 just as Abraham “believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”?
7 Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham. 8 And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify[a] the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, “In you shall all the nations be blessed.” 9 So then, those who are of faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith.»
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Meanwhile, Mark 16:16 reads as follows (ESV): «Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.» If Tertullian's ad hoc strategy of harmonizing Scriptures about faith and baptism (discussed earlier in Part One) is correct, then Mark 16:16 could also read as follows: *«Whoever believes and is baptized and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.» Such is an absurd logical conclusion of his reinterpretation unless, of course, Mark 16:16 is not talking about the sort of faith that Christians have after the resurrection of Christ. I wonder if any sacramentalists would be willing to sacrifice the use of such a verse if to do so would maintain any attempted reinterpretation of faith that they might have.
Colossians 2:12 presents another problem for Tertullian's would-be ad hoc solution and reads as follows (ESV): «12 having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead.» If Tertullian's ad hoc strategy is correct, then Colossians 2:12 could also read as follows: *«12 having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith and baptism in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead.» As dictated by the logic of Tertullian's redefinition, a process of baptism becomes effectual before the thing itself even comes to exist in toto. The result is absurd, so its premise false.
Even in common parlance which presumably has existed since the beginning of Christianity we would say “People are baptized on account of faith in Christ; infants or other people without such faith are not baptized.” In other words, it is dubious that anyone truly believes that virtually every time a New Testament writer said “believes in” or “faith” the respective meaning of these two words is *trusts and is baptized* and *faith and baptism.* So again, there is no reason to believe that Tertullian's attempted redefinition should be accepted.
Don't miss the forest for the trees. When the Scriptures tell us that one is saved by grace through faith, they mean it. And when the Scriptures talk about people who are saved before they reach the nearest river or baptistery, they mention people who follow a pattern as opposed to an exception.

Sunday, April 07 - Saturday, April 13, 2024

Top Posts

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
74	11 comments	[1972] The Hollies - Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
29	3 comments	[1978] Joe Jackson - Is She Really Going Out With Him?	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
28	3 comments	Hello It's Me - Todd Rundgren | The Midnight Special | December 7, 1973
27	6 comments	[1979] Toto - 99	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
26	2 comments	[1974] John Denver - Thank God I'm a Country Boy	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
25	4 comments	[1977] Yvonne Elliman - If I Can't Have You	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
25	5 comments	Marvin Gaye - Got to give it up	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
24	3 comments	[1970] Lynn Anderson - (I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
22	3 comments	[1973] Dolly Parton - Jolene	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
21	2 comments	[1979] Christopher Cross - Sailing	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
20	2 comments	[1970] The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Mr. Bojangles	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
19	2 comments	[1978] The Babys - Every time I Think Of You (4K/Lyrics)	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
18	2 comments	Nights on Broadway - Bee Gees | The Midnight Special | December 5, 1975
18	4 comments	[1979] ABBA - Chiquitita	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
17	2 comments	[1977] Fleetwood Mac - Don't Stop (1977)	[AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]

 

Most Commented Posts

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
15	5 comments	[1978] Ambrosia - How Much I Feel	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
15	4 comments	[1976] The Doobie Brothers - It Keeps You Runnin'	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
17	4 comments	[1979] Blondie - Accidents Never Happen (1979)	[Sp] [AM] [SC]
14	3 comments	[1970] Elvis Presley - Kentucky Rain (1970)	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
8	3 comments	[1973] New York Dolls- "Bad Girl"	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]

 

Saturday, April 06 - Friday, April 12, 2024

Top 60s

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
493	529 comments	[60s] from my grandmother’s lincoln park high school yearbook… can anyone guess who this is?
412	54 comments	[1966] On April 11th, 1966, Buffalo Springfield made their live debut at The Troubadour in Hollywood, California.
203	23 comments	[60s] My tattoo of the Lizard King🦎
118	19 comments	[60s] Some of the best lyrics of all time on one of the best albums of all time
72	27 comments	[60s] The Night (Nights in White Satin)

 

Top 70s

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
274	55 comments	[70s] Rick Derringer onstage at Miami Baseball Stadium. September 3, 1977. He was the opening act for J. Geils Band and Peter Frampton.
164	34 comments	[70s] Bad Company...and Paul Rodgers in particular
154	27 comments	[1979] Frank Marino (1979)
138	39 comments	[70s] Metallica honor Elton John at Gershwin Prize Tribute - Funeral for a friend/Love Lies Bleeding cover
97	21 comments	[1978] Molly Hatchet - Dreams I'll Never See (1978)	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]

 

Top 80s

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
35	4 comments	[1985] Cheap Trick - Tonight It's You (1985)	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
29	6 comments	[1980] Pat Travers - Snortin Whiskey	[Sp] [AM] [BC] [Dzr] [SC]
25	8 comments	[1981] Def Leppard - Let It Go (1981)	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]
14	2 comments	[80s] Steve Lukather of Toto’s session schedule of April 12-14, 1982. Includes notes for “The Girl Is Mine” recording session with Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.
13	5 comments	[1986] Europe - The Final Countdown (Official Video)	[Sp] [AM] [Dzr] [SC]

 

Top Remaining

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
1,006	102 comments	High school gym teacher Leonard Skinner holds the latest album by a band of his former students- Lynyrd Skynyrd. As their PE coach, he sent several band members to the principal's office for wearing their hair too long, and was responsible for getting a few of them suspended. Jacksonville, FL, 1977.
744	144 comments	10th April 1970, Doors singer Jim Morrison was dragged off stage by keyboardist Ray Manzarek during a concert in Boston, after Morrison asked the audience, 'Would you like to see my genitals?'
717	17 comments	This amazing photo was from a 16 y/o girl who snuck her camera into a Queen concert in 1978
309	49 comments	And now it's time for Thin Lizzy!
259	39 comments	The Rolling Stones in drag, 1966. Photo by Jerry Schatzberg.

 

Top 5 Most Commented

score	comments	title & link	mirrors
162	890 comments	Say something good about a band you don’t like
155	382 comments	I know where most of the heavy hitters’ band names originated like The Beatles, The Doors, Pink Floyd and The Grateful Dead. Led Zeppelin’s name origin is probably my favorite. What are some band name origin stories you like?
100	331 comments	Name a better side one
55	264 comments	What are your favorite opening lines?
40	128 comments	If you could be a member of any band for one night! Who and What Live Show?