Hello Everyone!
Another day and another thread looking into the genre's past. Today, we'll be covering another mixed group, Two Two! This was a pretty short lived act that never seemed to have the same line-up when it came down to their releases. It's a four member party that had nine separate members over the span of three years. They originally started as a band, as two of the members played instruments, but slowly transitioned into a more pop and then hip-hop identity.
Any fans of the group here? The 90's were a special time and I'm happy to see so many co-ed acts present. A trend I wish would become more of a thing again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Korean Name: 투투
• English Name: Two Two
• Labels: Oasis, BMG Korea
• Years Active: 1994 - 1996 (Disbanded)
• Former Group Members:
  • 오지훈 (Oh Ji-hoon)
  • 김지훈 (Kim Ji-hoon)
  • 유현재 (Yoo Hyeon-jae)
  • 김준 (Kim Jun)
  • 임성은 (Im Seong-eun)
  • 김석민 (Kim Seok-min)
  • 김진 (Kim Jin)
  • 김재우 (Kim Jae-woo)
  • 황혜영 Hwang Hye-young (Guest Member)
• Discography:
  • 3 Korean Studio Albums
• Informational Links: Wikipedia, Namu Wiki) (Korean)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1st Korean Studio Album: Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1994
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 일과 이분의 일	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 내 인생의 러쉬아워	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	Performance
3. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 1.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
4. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 2.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
5. 그대 눈물까지도	"Official Music Video"	KBS Performance
6. 홀로 지낸 기억	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
7. 재수생	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
8. 음주운전	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2nd Korean Studio Album: Two Two 2
Release Date: June 30, 1995
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 바람 난 여자	Official Music Video (poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 니가 내것이 되 갈수록	--	MBC Performance
3. 미소를 띄우며 나를 보낸 그 모습처럼	--	--
4. 어색한 미소	--	--
5. 고백	--	--
6. 널 위한 노래	--	--
7. 잃어버린 너	--	--
8. Ben	--	--
9. Even Tear Drops In Your Eyes	--	--
10. One And A Half	--	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3rd Korean Studio Album: New Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1996
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 최면속에서	--	--
2. 이미지	--	MBC Performance
3. Hero	--	--
4. 약오르지	--	--
5. 아침	--	--
6. 외면	--	--
7. 넌 내게로 그리고 난	--	--
8. 잃어버린 너	--	--
9. 프롤로그	--	--

​

Hello Everyone!
Another day and another thread looking into the genre's past. Today, we'll be covering another mixed group, Two Two! This was a pretty short lived act that never seemed to have the same line-up when it came down to their releases. It's a four member party that had nine separate members over the span of three years. They originally started as a band, as two of the members played instruments, but slowly transitioned into a more pop and then hip-hop identity.
Any fans of the group here? The 90's were a special time and I'm happy to see so many co-ed acts present. A trend I wish would become more of a thing again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Korean Name: 투투
• English Name: Two Two
• Labels: Oasis, BMG Korea
• Years Active: 1994 - 1996 (Disbanded)
• Former Group Members:
  • 오지훈 (Oh Ji-hoon)
  • 김지훈 (Kim Ji-hoon)
  • 유현재 (Yoo Hyeon-jae)
  • 김준 (Kim Jun)
  • 임성은 (Im Seong-eun)
  • 김석민 (Kim Seok-min)
  • 김진 (Kim Jin)
  • 김재우 (Kim Jae-woo)
  • 황혜영 Hwang Hye-young (Guest Member)
• Discography:
  • 3 Korean Studio Albums
• Informational Links: Wikipedia, Namu Wiki) (Korean)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1st Korean Studio Album: Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1994
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 일과 이분의 일	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 내 인생의 러쉬아워	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	Performance
3. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 1.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
4. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 2.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
5. 그대 눈물까지도	"Official Music Video"	KBS Performance
6. 홀로 지낸 기억	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
7. 재수생	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
8. 음주운전	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2nd Korean Studio Album: Two Two 2
Release Date: June 30, 1995
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 바람 난 여자	Official Music Video (poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 니가 내것이 되 갈수록	--	MBC Performance
3. 미소를 띄우며 나를 보낸 그 모습처럼	--	--
4. 어색한 미소	--	--
5. 고백	--	--
6. 널 위한 노래	--	--
7. 잃어버린 너	--	--
8. Ben	--	--
9. Even Tear Drops In Your Eyes	--	--
10. One And A Half	--	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3rd Korean Studio Album: New Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1996
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 최면속에서	--	--
2. 이미지	--	MBC Performance
3. Hero	--	--
4. 약오르지	--	--
5. 아침	--	--
6. 외면	--	--
7. 넌 내게로 그리고 난	--	--
8. 잃어버린 너	--	--
9. 프롤로그	--	--

Guys,
General question here on Metas copyright policy.
I am not doing this but lets say I was selling some bracelets very similar design to van cleef and labelled these as clover, would this go against facebooks policy?
I see quite a few online stores advertising for eg copy designs of van cleef / cartier bracelets. I just wanted to know how this is viewed legally. As there are no logos or name of the branded included would this still flag as copy right?

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

Noah The Pilgrim
Previous First Next
'Noah.'
You can't feel your body, you try to move but receive no feedback from your arms and legs. You open our eyes, or were they always opened? It's difficult to tell when only darkness surrounds you.
'You're here again.'
It's that same voice you heard before waking up in that pod. You try to speak but fail. It feels like you left your body behind, existing only inside your mind.
'Allow me.'
From the dark, a circle of light emerges, filling your vision. The light is not blinding, nor is it too bright to obfuscate the dark, it's just bright enough to reach your eyes without prompting discomfort.
It's the Star. That much, you know for certain.
Normally, you'd feel hopelessly scared, but somehow, all you feel is soothed by its light.
'I remember telling you we wouldn't see each other for a long time. Why are you here?'
Although you wished to answer the question, you could not. Both because you have no control over your body, and because you don't know the answer.
'...'
You recall the AI telling you the purpose of the ship you're in. It was to study this star.
Why? What's so special about this particular star? Sure, it's on the very edge of the ever-expanding universe, but aside from that, it's just a star. A very odd-looking star, but a star nonetheless.
'What's so special about me... Nothing.'
A shiver runs down your spine. It feels as though you've forgotten a significant thing about yourself, and you're sure this star has something to do with it.
'How are you feeling, Noah?'
Like shit. That is what you wanted to answer.
You've been going with the flow ever since you woke up in that pod, not asking yourself neither how or why you've been put in that place, only nodding your way to the bridge.
You've been bombarded with memories that you're sure aren't yours, but your own memories also feel shrouded in a thick haze, and yet, you didn't bother to even think about why it was, only accepting that as truth without understanding this strange phenomenon.
When confronted with things beyond your current knowledge you refuse to acknowledge it by not asking yourself what it is, or by illuding yourself into thinking it's a dream.
Even now, you refuse to acknowledge this impossible place you've found yourself in.
'Why is it that you turn away?'
What to blame for that? You didn't even feel the need to ask anything about yourself. Randomly remembering things as though you were reading them off a manual, taking whatever FYARN says as an absolute truth, and not even reacting to the abhorrent state of the Odyssey.
When FYARN told you about the relationship between the alien and the human races, it told you how superior humans were, and it also told you that the human race lost the war. You didn't bother to call out that clear discrepancy then because you felt as though it didn't concern you, despite being clearly at the forefront of that conflict.
When FYARN asked what you remembered, you simply stated you didn't remember nearly anything, and yet you've made no strive to fix that issue, accepting it as the absolute truth.
All there was left to blame was yourself.
'You're doing it again, turning away from the truth.'
Was it because your situation was impossibly bizarre?
Waking up in a half-blown spaceship could be enough to drive a man to the brink with how random and impossible that notion was. Especially when that man was just a salary man, living month to month, working an unfulfilling job, all while being called the best.
'Perhaps. But I believe that the issue lies much, much deeper.'
The utter darkness shifts and contorts unexplainably. Moving shadows take formless shapes before you. From black to grey, and from grey to different shades of it. Those shapes of impossible geometry cast shadows downwards, as the star stared at you from above.
The shapes expanded and contracted into euclidean and understandable structures. Tall rectangular towers filled the horizon, decorating a path akin to buildings in a busy city.
On the foot of one of those structures, you see a man dwarfed by the sheer size of the scenery.
'Who do you think that is?'
You approach him.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. Your brown eyes stare back at it, analyzing the bags beneath his eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, hastily combed to hide the laziness behind his look. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack weighed on his back as he walked through this empty street.
A position you could imagine yourself in, every day of the week.
If you had failed to piece together who that was, it became clear once you noticed the empty look on his face.
It's obvious who that is.
He is a man whose bright dreams have been crushed under the weight of mankind.
How cruel, to be forced to gaze into a dirty mirror...
'You are starting to see it. Let's go further.'
The ractangular towers floated away, as the man continued to walk into the grey void.
Four white walls covered both you and the man, grey shapes transformed into a chair and desk, inviting the man to sit on it.
It was a plain desk and a plain chair, and when the shapes stopped transmogrifying themselves, a plain computer, monitor, keyboard, and mouse rested atop the desk.
Fitting for a plain man. You watch him sitting down in the chair, putting his backpack on the floor beneath the table.
From the backpack, he conjured a notebook and a set of pencils and erasers. He quickly turned the computer on.
This was his job.
The monitor remained grey despite how the man typed on the keyboard. The notebook remained grey despite how the man scribbled on it with the pencil.
A humanoid figure came to be from the geometric mess of grey nearby. It passed by the working man. "G'day Noah." It spoke, as he vanished into the white walls that surround you.
The man didn't bother to respond, he didn't bother to stop his work, and he didn't even bother to look up from his notebook.
Another humanoid figure passed by, holding what looked to be sheets of paper. "Hey Noah, could you sort these documents out for me? I'm swamped today..."
The man looks at the thick collection of papers in the figure's hands. He just started his shift and already lacks the energy and motivation to keep going with his day.
And despite that, he did not want to disappoint.
He points to the empty space on his desk, motioning for the figure to leave it there.
The figure places the paperwork on the man's desk. "Thanks, I owe you big time for this!" After saying that, the figure disappeared into the white walls of the room.
He did not speak a singular word.
You recall this... Feeling.
'Do you remember their names, Noah?'
You could not.
'Do you remember their faces, Noah?'
You could not.
'These people, you used to see them every day. Why do you not know who they are?'
What was the point of it? Why did it matter? Why did they matter?
'Because they are people.'
To you, those figures were nothing but placeholders for those who did the same thing as you. They were nothing special, just like you. So why bother to recall their faces?
'We must go further.'
The white cubicle ceased to be, alongside the man in plain clothing.
The towering rectangles swiftly returned, and with it came a young adult in his early twenties.
Your brown eyes stare back at his. The short dark hair looked as though it was combed for hours until it was perfect. You see a trimmed beard, neatly cut with a blade most sharp. You see that his face has been recently subjected to a daily skin-care regime.
This young man looks to be full of energy.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack was strapped to his back as he walked through this empty street.
Again, you know who this is, yet you don't have the guts to accept it.
'...'
The ringing tune of a cell phone came from the young man's pockets. He promptly picked it up.
"Hey, Noah!" You hear the voice coming from the other side of the call. "The boys and I are going to throw a party today in my place to celebrate finishing high school. You better show up tonight!" It sounds like the voice originates from a man. He is yelling at the phone.
You watch as the young man smirks. "You can bet I'll be there." He answered. "I'll be done with today's interview and head there as soon as possible."
"Great... Something came up, catch you later bud!" And just like that, the call ended. The young man pocketed his phone.
You know how the rest of that day went. The young man passed the interview and secured his spot in a large IT company, then he went to his friend's place and had the best night of his life.
Those memories were the ones you revisited endlessly.
The grey shapes and humanoid figures vanish, returning to utter blackness.
Once again, all you see is the star.
'What happened, Noah?'
You couldn't say. Maybe it wasn't some big thing that happened, but rather a large quantity of small things that eventually crashed down upon you like an avalanche that built up for a long time.
Friends leaving to live their own lives.
Underappreciation of your career.
Your incapacity to form meaningful relationships.
The feeling of being small in the greater scheme of things.
The notion of your life being wasted for nothing.
A lack of accomplishment that was caused by a lack of problems.
You letting your physical appearance go.
But, even amongst all of those aggravating motives, there was one thing that always pained your heart to even recall. For that reason, you refused to acknowledge and even think about it. A trend that would continue for the upcoming years of your life.
Your dream.
Once adulthood came and expectations weighed on you, you had to choose. Live a comfortable life, or throw it all away in exchange for an idea that probably wouldn't even work, to begin with.
You refused to let go at first. Holding unto what little hope there was left for that dream of yours.
In three short years, your life shifted completely.
Friends grew distant, and now all you had as a replacement for them were faceless figures who spoke to you about a job you never really wanted.
Those very same figures held you in high regard, always saying how talented you were or how impressive your skills were. In truth, you never felt like what you did was worth the effort or the praise.
All you ever did in that company was half-assed at best, yet they praised you like their savior. You grew complacent under those who put you on a pedestal.
Your salary increased, and so did the responsibilities, but never were it challenging or engaging. It felt tasteless and odorless.
You refused to even respond to small talk from those people. How could you? If you did, they would shower you with praises you didn't deserve. That theory was proven time and time again.
All you did every day was sitting on a chair, eyes glued to the screen to meet an assortment of numbers and labels. This was nothing. There were people out there, changing the world, fixing the real problems, and you're there, sorting out numbers for a company created to sort out data for a company created to sort out data.
A null uroboros.
Twenty-eight years of a human's life, and for what? To waste away like a gear on a machine?
You remained ignorant of your ignorance. There were no problems since you had more than enough money from your ever-increasing salary you felt you didn't deserve.
You couldn't even bring yourself to quit, afraid to face the consequences, afraid to be replaced. A fact you understood fully well, yet you refused to acknowledge.
Clinging to a feeling of guilt, you couldn't help but hold on to this life. Your life, Noah.
You longed for a change, but wouldn't bring yourself to change it.
Your dream that you lived for so long ago, is something you couldn't even remember. You hid it away in a dark corner of your mind, hoping to never face it again, or else you would break down.
That is what happened.
The coldness of the world is what happened.
You wouldn't go as far as to say that you were a victim of fate.
Instead, you'd say you were a victim of yourself.
'And yet, you're here now. In an impossible place. In an impossible life.'
Are you to waste away on this place as well?
'You had conviction, but lacked guidance.'
Can you even muster that much courage? You fear what the future could bring.
'I presented you this chance for a reason, so you may show them that your soul is the brightest of them all.'
Fear is born for there is hope, but bravery is born for there is fear. You recall someone telling you that once, but...
'Remember this, Noah.'
Where does the courage to take a step forward come from? When it's so dark that you can't see the path ahead, how should one muster enough courage to make the right call?
'Whenever you feel lost, or alone; Whenever you feel like there is no way forward;'
Your vision starts to blur. The star begins to fade.
'So you may never lose your way again;'
Looks like it's time to return to reality.
'I, am your...'
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be two to three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

• Korean Name: 투투
• English Name: Two Two
• Labels: Oasis, BMG Korea
• Years Active: 1994 - 1996 (Disbanded)
• Former Group Members:
  • 오지훈 (Oh Ji-hoon)
  • 김지훈 (Kim Ji-hoon)
  • 유현재 (Yoo Hyeon-jae)
  • 김준 (Kim Jun)
  • 임성은 (Im Seong-eun)
  • 김석민 (Kim Seok-min)
  • 김진 (Kim Jin)
  • 김재우 (Kim Jae-woo)
  • 황혜영 Hwang Hye-young (Guest Member)
• Discography:
  • 3 Korean Studio Albums
• Informational Links: Wikipedia, Namu Wiki) (Korean)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1st Korean Studio Album: Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1994
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 일과 이분의 일	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 내 인생의 러쉬아워	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	Performance
3. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 1.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
4. 너의 눈에 슬픈비가 내리고 (ver. 2.0)	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
5. 그대 눈물까지도	"Official Music Video"	KBS Performance
6. 홀로 지낸 기억	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
7. 재수생	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--
8. 음주운전	Official Music Video (Poor Quality)	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2nd Korean Studio Album: Two Two 2
Release Date: June 30, 1995
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 바람 난 여자	Official Music Video (poor Quality)	KBS Performance
2. 니가 내것이 되 갈수록	--	MBC Performance
3. 미소를 띄우며 나를 보낸 그 모습처럼	--	--
4. 어색한 미소	--	--
5. 고백	--	--
6. 널 위한 노래	--	--
7. 잃어버린 너	--	--
8. Ben	--	--
9. Even Tear Drops In Your Eyes	--	--
10. One And A Half	--	--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3rd Korean Studio Album: New Two Two
Release Date: May 1, 1996
​

Song Title	Music Video	Live Performance
1. 최면속에서	--	--
2. 이미지	--	MBC Performance
3. Hero	--	--
4. 약오르지	--	--
5. 아침	--	--
6. 외면	--	--
7. 넌 내게로 그리고 난	--	--
8. 잃어버린 너	--	--
9. 프롤로그	--	--

​

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

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

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

Pesto is a nutritious sauce and condiment available in many tasty variations, but is pesto keto-friendly?
Yes, traditionally prepared pesto is low in carbs and can be a great way to add depth of flavor to various keto recipes.
Discover the benefits of regularly incorporating pesto into a ketogenic diet and learn how to make the best Healthy Keto® pesto recipe.

What is pesto?

Originating from Genoa, Italy, authentic pesto sauce is crafted from simple ingredients, including fresh basil leaves, garlic, parmesan cheese, pecorino cheese, pine nuts, olive oil, sea salt, and pepper.
The name pesto comes from the Genovese word pestare, which means to pound or crush. It depicts the traditional method of preparing pesto using a mortar and pestle to combine ingredients.
Here are common ingredients used in different pesto varieties.

Common herbs used in pesto

The original pesto recipe, Pesto alla Genovese, exclusively uses Genovese basil as the primary herb due to its unique sweetness.
Basil is a delicate herb, and using the mortar and pestle instead of harshly chopping or blending with a food processor slows down the oxidation of the leaves. This not only helps preserve the sauce's vivid green hue but also enhances its flavor and aroma.
However, pesto has evolved to encompass a broader range of ingredients.
Here are some other common herbs used in many pesto recipes:

• Italian flat-leaf parsley
• Cilantro
• Mint
• Oregano

In addition to herbs, many pesto sauces incorporate ingredients such as arugula, spinach, kale, lemon juice, or tomatoes.

Common nuts used in pesto

Similarly, some recipes replace the traditional toasted pine nuts with other types of nuts to add a unique twist to the classic dish.
Here are some commonly used nuts used to prepare pesto:

• Almonds
• Cashews
• Walnuts
• Pecans
• Pistachios

Is pesto keto-friendly?

Traditional pesto is low in carbohydrates and contains less than one gram of net carbs per tablespoon. This makes pesto an excellent keto-friendly option that offers impressive flavors.
However, since there are many different pesto variations, it’s crucial to read labels to check that there are no added sugars or hidden carbs that could interfere with ketosis.
For those following Healthy Keto, a low-carb diet that focuses on nutrient-dense whole foods, checking the ingredients list is essential, as many pre-made pestos can include potentially harmful additives and preservatives.
Watch this video to discover the health and nutritional benefits of basil.
Amazing Health & Nutritional Benefits Of Basil

4 health benefits of pesto

Authentic basil pesto combines several superfoods high in nutrients, offering many potential health benefits.
Here are four reasons why you should incorporate more pesto into your meals.

1. Anti-aging properties

Research published in Frontiers in Nutrition shows that healthy fats, particularly the monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fatty acids found in olive oil, can improve brain function and help reduce the risk of cognitive decline.
These fatty acids are also vital for supporting eye health and contribute to healthier skin by improving skin barrier function and hydration.

2. Supports the immune system

According to a study published in Foods, Genovese basil is particularly rich in polyphenols, including rosmarinic and caffeic acid.
These health-promoting compounds have been linked to potent anti-inflammatory effects that support immune system function and may lower the risk of chronic diseases.
3. Potential anti-cancer effects
Key ingredients in pesto, including basil, garlic, and olive oil, are exceptional sources of antioxidants that may help lower cancer risk.
Antioxidants can counteract the effects of free radicals, thereby preventing oxidative stress, which is linked to cellular and DNA damage, a leading cause of cancer.

4. Promotes digestive health

Parmigiano Reggiano, widely considered the best cheese for pesto, contains digestive enzymes and beneficial gut bacteria, also known as probiotics.
Probiotics help maintain a healthy gut microbiome essential for nutrient absorption, digestive health, and overall well-being.
Research published in Food Technology and Biotechnology found that Parmigiano Reggiano also contains oligosaccharides, which act as a prebiotic food source for beneficial gut bacteria.

Store-bought vs. homemade pesto

Italians will be the first to tell you there's no comparison between store-bought and homemade pesto sauce.
Pesto is a delicate sauce that’s best consumed fresh, as its flavor and quality can deteriorate quickly, becoming bitter and dull as the enzymes released from basil oxidize.
To help extend pesto’s shelf life, store-bought versions often contain preservatives and additives that can negatively impact the flavor and quality of the sauce and may harm your health.
Additionally, many store-bought pestos will substitute critical ingredients, such as extra virgin olive oil (EVOO), cheese, or fresh garlic, with cheaper alternatives or omit them entirely, leading to a bland or unpalatable flavor and a significantly lower nutritional value.

How to choose the best store-bought pesto sauce

Homemade pesto sauce is always preferred, but if you don't have time to make it, the best premade pestos can often be found in the refrigerated section.
Look for pestos that don't contain artificial preservatives or low-quality ingredients, such as sunflower oil or potato flakes. Instead, opt for certified organic and non-GMO products that use high-quality oil and real cheese sourced from grass-fed and pasture cows.

Keto-friendly pesto recipes

If you're looking for a way to add extra flavor to your keto meals, look no further than pesto. Chicken, fish, steak, and most vegetables pair exceptionally well with this tasty and versatile sauce.
Here are some delicious keto-friendly pesto recipes:

• Sun-dried tomato pesto dip
• Vegan keto pine nut pesto
• Vegan mint pesto and veggie bowl
• Keto creamy basil sausage casserole
• Macadamia nut and parsley pesto vegan bowl

To complete your pesto experience, try experimenting with keto pasta recipes.
Zucchini noodles, keto gnocchi, and keto egg noodles are excellent low-carb pasta alternatives that work well with keto pesto sauce.

Tips to make the best pesto sauce

Here are some tips on how to choose the best ingredient to make a nutritious and flavorful pesto at home.

Parmesan cheese

Opt for authentic Parmigiano Reggiano, an Italian staple that’s been in production for over 900 years.
Known for its rich, nutty flavor and granular texture, Parmigiano Reggiano undergoes a meticulous aging process and adheres to stringent production standards, ensuring its authenticity and superior quality.
The Parmigiano Reggiano standard guidelines underscore a commitment to natural production, prohibiting additives and ensuring cows are fed local forage.
This approach not only guarantees the cheese's premium taste but also preserves essential nutrients and probiotics.

Olive oil

Select only pure cold-pressed EVOO. Many olive oils on the market are diluted with cheaper oils that compromise flavor and can introduce harmful ingredients that may negatively impact your health.
In addition, evidence published in the Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition summarizes, "phenolic content of olive oil is reduced by chemical extraction and refining."
By prioritizing cold-pressed EVOO, you ensure your olive oil is rich in flavor and health-promoting properties.

Fresh Genovese basil

Harvested during early growth stages to ensure optimal flavor, Genovese basil is the prime choice for making basil pesto.
As Dr. Berg explains, "Basil has some amazing health benefits. It’s loaded with vitamin K, manganese, and flavonoids, which can help support healthy bones, blood clotting, and skeletal health while offering potent anti-inflammatory properties.”

Hello, moms!
How do you all label your kiddos clothing? My daughter is missing 4 of her sweaters during this spring since it's colder in the mornings here then warmer in the afternoons. 🤦‍♀️ I have been writing her initials with permanent marker on the tags, since I can't fit her full name, but this doesn't seem to be working on getting her sweaters back to her. Her schools lost and found bin is so full, and I've only found 1 of her missing sweaters. I need a better method. Any advice would be appreciated 🙏

Hello everyone,
I hope I am doing this correctly... A little over 2 years ago I lifted the geographic restrictions and moved with our daughter from Texas to Wisconsin. Ex gets to pick a weekend visitation once per month. He gets an extended summer possession. Spring break, and Christmas and Thanksgiving during odd years. Pretty standard for visitation for 100+ miles away except the extended summer.
Ex skipped Thanksgiving. He went an entire 6 months with only two phone calls to our child. Our child is four years old now. I have attempted to get him to call her and to exercise visitation but he says "it's not feasible." I refuse to do video call due to his behavior. He was yelling out my name and trying to talk to me rather than our child then he would make disparaging comments to our child about our living space.
Let me pause and explain that he is abusive to me. He was during the relationship and continues to do so. I am treated like a surrogate even though I have possession of our child 85% of the time, this is due to his lack of interest not me with holding. He insults me on a constant basis and threatens me, attempts to manipulate me. Anytime, there is a part where we need to compromise he will instead involve the police rather than working it out.
I.E. I asked him if he could please wait to pick to pick her up until the next day because it was 11pm at night and he hadn't seen her in six months. When I told him that I will no longer be facilitating video calls. When refused to reply back to him at midnight and he attempted to call.
Last spring break possession he threatened to keep her. Stating that she, "Already has a mother and father here so there's not need to return her." Yes, it's written. I only communicate with him via a messenger app. The summer before that he stated, "Just enjoy your time up north and leave us alone!"
He is over 10k behind in arrears but in Texas that's a different subject. I don't know if they even care about that in custody court. But I am working with the Texas OAG, I recently sent a copy of a text where he stated that child support is "extortion."
Oh, he agreed to all of these terms. We signed an agreement outside of court after two TRO's then had the judge approve and sign it. I think it's called a prove up.
Here's the issue... I have nothing to offer the judge that would be a better visitation model. I don't know if it's enough to stop visitation. I can't prove that he is abusive to our child but I know he yells at her and I know he has other people take care of her, practically strangers, not him. How? Her behavior when she returns and what she says. But she's four.
The judge may not believe her and if I get a GAL it's a coin toss. There's not physical proof. And when I did have physical proof I was told that it wasn't enough. Ex is adamant about his right to label strangers as our child's family. Calling people he barely knows her cousins or uncles and aunts. Labeled his partner as her "father." When I asked him politely to not do this as it may confuse her and cause issues later in life he blew up. Then again, he always blows up...
I also don't have any funds to get an attorney. I got lucky with my last attorney who was willing to go by a low income monthly basis. I'm worried my ex will keep her. I'm worried he might snap and do something in the moment... I'm worried that him not being consistent with visitation will impact her greatly. Our child is on a waiting list for therapy.
I want to shout at him to either take an active part in her life or get out... But of course I can't do that. I can't force him to get help or to change his behavior...
Any suggestions?
​

Hi! Selling this as a bundle only, 50$ US, no individual articles.
Shipping to CANADA ONLY. They have all been bought in 2023. They are all pretty much brand new and mostly never used. Price for the bundle (everything in this post) is 50$ USD, tracked shipping included
Alkemia
Full sizes
-Calliope FS
-The de Ceylon FS
-Tea garden alchemy 2023 FS
-Arcanum experiment nr. 9, 2023, FS
-Mistress of misrule, FS
-Watermelon alchemy, FS
-Arcanum experiment nr. 12, FS
-All hallows eve, 2021, FS
-Baiser du soleil, FS
-Madam pearl, FS
-La petite seduction, vintage archive, FS
-Woods on a snowy evening, FS
-Gateau d’anniversaire, FS
-All hallows eve alchemy 2022, FS
-Rose rouge, FS
-Arcanum experiment nr 7, 2023, FS
-Queen bee alchemy, 2023, FS
-Lady Krampus, FS
-Douceur de vivre, vintage archive, FS
FS alkemia mysteries(Package that came with empty label, I don’t know what the actual scent is), Full sizes:
-??? , I named it ‘’divine feminine’’, FS
-???, I named it ‘’mon beau sapin’’, FS
-???, empty label, FS
-??? Empty label, FS
-???, I named it ‘’leather, rhum and spices’’, FS
-???, I named it ‘’Gentleman’s club’’, FS
-???, I named it ‘’An old witch’s house, FS
-???, I named it ‘’automne spices, FS
Alkemia sample sizes
-Silver sky
-Ghosts of dear temptations
-The magpie’s rhyme
-Elegant coquette
-Surcie
-Drakon
-More light!
-Paradise
Alphamusk
-Bonnie
-She will make you weep
-Orange blossom like, totally, Jo Malone
-Beastress
-Petrichor
-Sexy no 99
-Scanned
-Bum bum
-Cake batter
-Amber rose

Curvy Faja insta shop
Curvy Faja is a waist trainer website that is deeply marketed on Instagram- if you have also fallen for this faulty website and their apparel like me and want a refund.
Here is the return address that they will not send you!!! (Very bottom of post) I had to hassle for a month and threaten to call my credit company to cancel the charge and then hassle again! Legit was the most terrible customer service I have ever been though. After many promises to give me to return address and then asking me to keep the product and give it to a friend if I don’t like it 🙃😂 or to keep it and they’ll give me 10-30% off my next product… I finally was given a return address BUT they are making jump through hoops again! I fought and said they need to give me the shipping label or else I’ll call my credit company as their website states that they will give you a shipping label if you received faulty goods. F this company- don’t ever buy from them!
Address: 25-2-2, East of Shuiyifang Avenue, Nancun Town, Panyu District, Guangzhou City, Guangdong Province, China Name: yuping wang Zip code: 511442

What do people think about NOIR Consulting?
I have seen their name crop up for well over 10 years on various major job boards in the UK and the jobs they post always look too good to be true. Below are some job title examples:

• Fastest Growing Internet Co Ever
• Fastest Growing Social Media Firm
• Global Record Label
• Leading E-Book Firm
• Social Messaging Platform
• Global Sports Company
• Digital Download Site

With benefits / perks like (All taken from adverts):

• Free books and beers, and a 24/7 snack wall!
• Unlimited holiday allowance.
• amazing offices (onsite cinema, pool tables, bar, free canteen, gym). These positions are dope!!!
• company outings: team dinners, trips to museums and galleries
• They also run monthly book club lunches and discussions.

It comes over as if they may (Unproven) just be harvesting CV’s under the illusion of these dream jobs or the occasional real genuine job from one of these companies they held briefly in the past.
I tend to notice the same job titles from them are posted every week, the salaries, skill levels and location's also tend to be aimed at a catch all range. Sadly having worked in development for a long time I have rarely ever come across these types of dream firms working in the Microsoft software development stack, its mostly just FinTech or Startups although I did see RockStar games post once.

Hey everyone, my name is William, I'm 29 years old, and I recently moved from Los Angeles to Manchester to grow my channel Super Progressive. On my podcast, I've interviewed and built solid professional relationships with pioneering progressive DJs like Hernan Cattaneo, Nick Warren, Danny Tenaglia, Dave Seaman, and Danny Howells, as well as rising stars like Franky Wah and Yotto. With these relationships, I've become very well connected to various progressive record labels. You can check out my channel here: https://www.instagram.com/superprogressive/
Tony Wilson is my journalism hero and the reason I moved to Manchester, and in that spirit, I want to do all I can to help resurrect the progressive scene here in Manchester, and that starts with the city's youngest, up-and-coming talent. I want to promote student nights to platform talented artists who are just getting started, as well as introduce up-and-coming producers to labels they may want to release on. I've lived in this city for 6 months now, finally have my footing, have an enormous amount of pride in living here, and want to do all I can to help the next generation of progressive DJs and Producers in Manchester.
I figured this would be a good first step, please let me know anything about the underground scene here so I can best understand what the next best step forward would be. Thanks!

Heyyy everyone Writing down my problem here was one of the latest resorts I could possibly think of but here I am… mind me it will be a long post but bare with me I am 25 Y/O and also my lets not call him bf but a date Let’s name me Sara and him Kim We met back in 2022 during the last year of uni (internship cause we are both in the medical field) We both are arab and muslim Kim is a skinny type of guy who’s also a super nerd in med and other tech stuff and an extreme introvert, me Sarah an average person in life who genuinely is very nice, kind and very approachable and easy to get along and get to know too. Also to add to that I am a person who has interests and life and hobbies which I like to do and a bright person in general The story started in that year when we started talking from time to time and it was my first time putting effort in someone who was really shy to get to know me so I had for multiple times to give green light and help him get close and open up to me. We started dating meeting out doing kind of things together This is the scene we go out all what Kim talks about is his family, latest AI, his friends in uni and never asks me a single question literally not a single question ( he is a middle child, who takes care of his ill sister, his dad is very tough on him and this is his attitude in general ) at first I thought ok he is an introvert who’s trying to open up. Then this kept on going that he never asks me back even meanwhile we text… never a good morning… never how was ur day… never how are you doing. Like as if I am not a part of this whole thing. 😕 And it really did hurt me a lot so I opened up to him and told him how I felt and he was like this is my way of introducing u to me and bla bla
Socially he is kind of weird.. even if he wants to ask me out he would never say it straight… wud play around that for days to ask me out and never in a straight matter.
After a year nd something…. I woke up one morning feeling angry that Its been too long nd I am still in this whirlwind with him ( never labeled our relationship or called me something or talked to me about future or marriage) he would text me according to his pace and availability and would never make me feel like the female or the beautiful girl I am …. I wrote him a pretty big message that I want nothing to do with him and I want him out of my life To which he responded saying he loves me n wants me in his life and wants to marry me.
Few days after that we had discussed marriage and future plans and then boom he ghosted me!
If I talk to him pointing lets say at the moon he wud talk about food or any other thing… like he wud answer according to what’s in his head and not what the conversion is about
Also sometimes I feel like he really does have low testosterone levels… like he’s not man-ing up or offers me help or solutions like he feels delicate that’s the word ( but I won’t deny he always paid for our dates) but never minded where I walked or like put effort to text after the date or any of that things u feel coming from a man that gives u feeling of security.
I have a lot way more to say and write but I will keep it this way… now we will meet soon cause we talk over texts all the time ( of course he never calls me) how should I address the matter ?

Heyyy everyone Writing down my problem here was one of the latest resorts I could possibly think of but here I am… mind me it will be a long post but bare with me I am 25 Y/O and also my lets not call him bf but a date Let’s name me Sara and him Kim We met back in 2022 during the last year of uni (internship cause we are both in the medical field) We both are arab and muslim Kim is a skinny type of guy who’s also a super nerd in med and other tech stuff and an extreme introvert, me Sarah an average person in life who genuinely is very nice, kind and very approachable and easy to get along and get to know too. Also to add to that I am a person who has interests and life and hobbies which I like to do and a bright person in general The story started in that year when we started talking from time to time and it was my first time putting effort in someone who was really shy to get to know me so I had for multiple times to give green light and help him get close and open up to me. We started dating meeting out doing kind of things together This is the scene we go out all what Kim talks about is his family, latest AI, his friends in uni and never asks me a single question literally not a single question ( he is a middle child, who takes care of his ill sister, his dad is very tough on him and this is his attitude in general ) at first I thought ok he is an introvert who’s trying to open up. Then this kept on going that he never asks me back even meanwhile we text… never a good morning… never how was ur day… never how are you doing. Like as if I am not a part of this whole thing. 😕 And it really did hurt me a lot so I opened up to him and told him how I felt and he was like this is my way of introducing u to me and bla bla
Socially he is kind of weird.. even if he wants to ask me out he would never say it straight… wud play around that for days to ask me out and never in a straight matter.
After a year nd something…. I woke up one morning feeling angry that Its been too long nd I am still in this whirlwind with him ( never labeled our relationship or called me something or talked to me about future or marriage) he would text me according to his pace and availability and would never make me feel like the female or the beautiful girl I am …. I wrote him a pretty big message that I want nothing to do with him and I want him out of my life To which he responded saying he loves me n wants me in his life and wants to marry me.
Few days after that we had discussed marriage and future plans and then boom he ghosted me!
If I talk to him pointing lets say at the moon he wud talk about food or any other thing… like he wud answer according to what’s in his head and not what the conversion is about
Also sometimes I feel like he really does have low testosterone levels… like he’s not man-ing up or offers me help or solutions like he feels delicate that’s the word ( but I won’t deny he always paid for our dates) but never minded where I walked or like put effort to text after the date or any of that things u feel coming from a man that gives u feeling of security.
I have a lot way more to say and write but I will keep it this way… now we will meet soon cause we talk over texts all the time ( of course he never calls me) how should I address the matter ?

The Linksys MBE7003 Tri-Band Mesh WiFi Router is the best option for speed, dependability, and coverage. Increase your connectivity with it. By utilising tri-band technology, this router makes sure that everything in your room is connected seamlessly. The Linksys MBE7003 mesh network eliminates dead zones and offers unmatched performance, revolutionising your digital experience. To experience cutting-edge Tri-Band Mesh WiFi, upgrade to the Linksys MBE7003.

Web based Setup For Linksys Velop MBE7003

It's simple to configure your Linksys Velop MBE7003 using the web address.

• Make sure the modem, power adapter, and router—as well as any other required hardware—are connected.
• Go to the address bar of your web browser and type "192.168.1.1"or”extender.linksys.com”
• To access the router's web interface, use your unique login credentials or the default ones.
• Find the web interface's "Setup" or "Configuration" section.
• Configure your internet connection settings by following the on-screen instructions.
• Wireless Configuration:
• Change the network name (SSID) and password on your wireless network.
• Set up security features like encryption to enhance protection.
• If necessary, allow the router to reboot after saving your configurations.

WPS Setup For Linksys Velop MBE7003

Using WPS to set up your Linksys MBE7003 Tri-Band Mesh WiFi is simple. Take note of these guidelines for a simple and quick setup:

• Make sure the Linksys MBE7003 is turned on and prepared for configuration.
• Locate the WPS button on the router; it is often labelled for convenience.
• Once the LED indicators begin to blink, press and hold the WPS button for a short while.
• Set up WPS on your computer, laptop, or smartphone within the allotted time.
• Permit the devices to automatically establish a secure connection.
• Examine the LED indicators on the router and the device to make sure the connection is successful.
• Now that it's configured, your LINKSYS MBE7003 offers a smooth Tri-Band Mesh WiFi connection.
• You can quickly set up your Tri-Band Mesh WiFi network using the WPS method by following these easy steps.

Linksys Velop MBE7003 Reset Process

It's simple to perform a factory reset on your Linksys MBE7003 Tri-Band Mesh WiFi. Take these actions.

• On the router, look for the Reset button, which is often on the bottom or back.
• Verify the router's functionality and turn it on.
• Press and hold the Reset button for about ten seconds using a paperclip or other similar tool.
• To verify that the reset procedure has been completed, look for blinking lights on the LED indicators.
• The LED indicators will stabilise before you release the Reset button.
• Allow a few minutes for the router to reboot after the factory reset is finished.
• By following these instructions, you can successfully factory reset your Linksys MBE7003 and restore it to its original configuration.
• is the best option for speed, dependability, and coverage. Increase your connectivity with it. By utilising tri-band technology, this router makes sure that everything in your room is connected seamlessly. The Linksys MBE7003 mesh network eliminates dead zones and offers unmatched performance, revolutionising your digital experience. To experience cutting-edge Tri-Band Mesh WiFi, upgrade to the Linksys MBE7003.

#include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  #include  namespace qml { struct property { std::string name; std::string value; }; struct element { std::string type; std::vector properties; std::vector children; }; } BOOST_FUSION_ADAPT_STRUCT(qml::property, name, value) BOOST_FUSION_ADAPT_STRUCT(qml::element, type, properties, children) namespace qi = boost::spirit::qi; namespace phoenix = boost::phoenix; template  struct QmlParser : qi::grammar { QmlParser() : QmlParser::base_type(start) { using namespace qi; quoted_string %= lexeme['"' >> +(char_ - '"') >> '"']; unquoted_string %= lexeme[+(char_ - (char_("{") char_("}") char_(":") char_(";") qi::space))]; property_rule %= unquoted_string >> ':' >> (quoted_string unquoted_string); properties_rule %= *property_rule; element_rule %= unquoted_string >> '{' >> properties_rule >> *element_rule >> '}'; start = element_rule; } qi::rule quoted_string; qi::rule unquoted_string; qi::rule property_rule; qi::rule(), qi::space_type> properties_rule; qi::rule element_rule; qi::rule start; }; void print_element(const qml::element& el, int indent = 0) { std::string indentation(indent, ' '); std::cout << indentation << "Element type: " << el.type << "\n"; for (const auto& prop : el.properties) { std::cout << indentation << " Property: " << prop.name << " = " << prop.value << "\n"; } for (const auto& child : el.children) { print_element(child, indent + 2); } } int main(int argc, char* argv[]) { if (argc != 2) { std::cerr << "Usage: " << argv[0] << " " << std::endl; return 1; } std::ifstream file(argv[1]); if (!file) { std::cerr << "Error: Could not open file " << argv[1] << std::endl; return 1; } std::stringstream buffer; buffer << file.rdbuf(); std::string input = buffer.str(); auto it = input.begin(); auto end = input.end(); qml::element root; QmlParser parser; bool r = qi::phrase_parse(it, end, parser, qi::space, root); if (r && it == end) { std::cout << "Parse success\n"; print_element(root); } else { std::cout << "Parse failed\n"; std::cout << "Remaining unparsed: '" << std::string(it, end) << "'\n"; } return 0; } 

ApplicationWindow { visible: true width: 640 height: 480 title: "Nested QML Example" Rectangle { id: rect1 visible: true width: 800 height: 600 title: "Advanced QML with JavaScript Example" Rectangle { id: mainRect width: parent.width height: parent.height color: "#f0f0f0" ColumnLayout { anchors.centerIn: parent spacing: 20 Text { text: "Advanced QML with JavaScript" font.pixelSize: 24 Layout.alignment: Qt.AlignCenter } RowLayout { spacing: 10 Layout.alignment: Qt.AlignCenter Button { id: button1 text: "Button 1" } Button { id: button2 text: "Button 2" } Button { id: button3 text: "Button 3" } } Rectangle { width: 200 height: 100 color: "#ffcc00" radius: 10 Text { id: messageLabel text: "Press a button" anchors.centerIn: parent font.pixelSize: 18 } } Slider { id: slider width: 300 from: 0 to: 100 value: 50 } ProgressBar { id: progressBar width: 300 value: slider.value } } } } }