``` In shadows cast by the moon’s soft glow (1) Where desire whispers, passion will grow (2) A dance of hearts in the night's deep thrust (3) Lust's flame ignites, consuming all, we combust (4)
"Where desire whispers, passion will grow," (2) A secret shared in the moonlit throw (5) As stars bear witness, a celestial lust (6) Lust's flame ignites, consuming all, we combust (4)
"A dance of hearts in the night's deep thrust," (3) A symphony of longing, in shadows, we trust (7) Two souls entwined, forbidden, yet just (8) Lust's flame ignites, consuming all, we combust (4)
"In shadows cast by the moon’s soft glow," (1) A clandestine meeting, an allure to show (9) A journey of senses, where inhibitions adjust (10) Lust's flame ignites, consuming all, we combust (4) ```
In this glosa, each of the four lines of the opening stanza (copla) is followed by a stanza (decima) that expands on one of the lines, maintaining the rhyme scheme and ending with the borrowed line. The borrowed lines are from the first stanza and serve as the anchor for the subsequent stanzas.

There's one guy who shows up to every single show I see in town. He's always dressed in the same outfit: navy t-shirt, exercise shorts, stripey white tube socks to his knees, sandals. Even though his shirt is dark and it's dark on the dance floor, you can see massive sweat stains under his pits. You smell him before you see him. To me, BO usually has a flat scent but this guy's smell actually stings your eyes. Like ammonia.
He has zero friends but is always dancing up to groups of us, especially if there are fewer men than women. He's ALWAYS hitting on women twenty years younger than him. He tries doing this impromptu ecstatic dance stuff and roping you into it but he stinks so badly that you can watch people turn and walk away from him all night. After this happens a half dozen times he jumps up on the stage and bothers the DJ.
If I lived anywhere else, I'd assume he was mentally ill, but I think he's just from the dark side of woo and festival culture. I really wish my scene did a better job tracking and bouncing folks like that. My town's not big and problem actors are known, and yet this dingus shows up everywhere I go.
Bonus: Ginger trust fund festival wook who dresses in hypebeast clothes. He has an ugly scraggy beard and is always fucked up on ket. The last time I saw him he showed me a chain of ball bearings he had wrapped around his fist for some reason. I looked down and saw that he pissed himself. Again, this guy is at every party I go to and I have no idea why people keep letting him in.

​

Disclaimer: I have switched back to the main subreddit, so aside from three, maybe four of you, you’re probably missing out on some context. If you’d like to be all caught up, you can comb through the previous episodes on my profile.
Votes:
Emma - 2
Katie - 1
Props to u/Proofracer for coming up with plot points
At the campfire ceremony, Chris attempts to build suspense by reminding the campers about the safety of a marshmallow, but Heather insists he get on with it, so the moment is cut short. Chris calls on Shawn, Zoey and Max before tossing them all a marshmallow. He then gives Owen and Heather one each, leaving Emma and Katie. Both Emma and Heather shoot angry looks at Katie, making her feel a tad worried, but Chris gives her the last marshmallow and deems Emma eliminated, causing her to have an outburst at Heather.
Emma: I knew I couldn’t trust you! You’re a backstabbing snake!
Heather: Please, as if I’d betray you this early. If I had any say, you’d still be here for a few more weeks.
Emma: Then, how?
Katie: It’s not just me who’d been fed up with how mean you’ve become. We don’t want a second Heather on this team. No offense.
Heather: Offense taken.
As Emma walks the dock of shame and the rest of the Screaming Gophers disperse, Chris turns to the camera to say his outro.
Chris: Will Max finally do something actually evil? How much longer can Heather keep her alliance afloat? And what will Damien do once he finds out about Bunny’s replacement? Find out next time, on Total Drama Island!
In-world votes:
Emma - Katie, Owen, Max, Shawn
Katie - Heather, Zoey, Emma
Basic Straining
The episode opens with Duncan using his knife to carve a skull into the wall of the Bass cabin when Axel exits the cabin. She scoffs at him, but before she can leave, Duncan attempts to apologize for how he’s treated her in the past. Axel stops to think for a second, but she sees through Duncan’s lie and leaves anyway.
Confessional:
Duncan: Of course I didn’t mean what I said to Axel, but Trent and Sammy are too loyal to one another, and Damien’s essentially attached himself to Dawn. Sadly this means that Axel is the only person I have a chance to ally with, so I need to get back on her good side.
Meanwhile at the Gophers cabin, Katie is sitting dejectedly on the front steps when Owen comes over to cheer her up.
Owen: Are you still bummed out about poisoning me? It’s okay, I know it was an accident.
Katie: That’s only half the problem. Emma got so mad at me for it, and now apparently I brought a cursed item to the team.
Owen: You mean your tiki souvenir? Are you sure it’s cursed?
Katie: Apparently it’s from Boney Island, so I’d say it’s pretty cursed.
Owen: Well, you don’t have to get rid of it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It may be cursed, but it’s still yours. I say you should keep it to remember this show by.
Katie: Thanks Big-O.
Owen: You know what? Let's prove Emma wrong. If you try your best this time, I’m sure you’d do way better at the challenge than you think!
Just then, the loudspeakers turn on, but instead of Chris, it’s Chef Hatchet who orders the campers to meet him at the docks for their next challenge. At the docks, Chef is dressed in a military uniform and starts barking orders at the campers about fixing their forms, with the one exception being Axel, whose form he deems “surprisingly average”. Chef then goes over today’s challenge. The teams will go through Chef’s grueling boot camp and drop out one by one until the last person remaining wins immunity for their team. Heather asks Chef what happened to Chris, but he ignores it and starts going over further rules, like how everyone will have to address him as Master Chief, and that no one eats or sleeps unless he says so.
Confessional:
Axel: I was never trained in the military, but I’m adept in most fields of work Master Chief could go over, so this will be a breeze.
For the first part of the boot camp, each team must carry a canoe, and will continue to do so until someone drops out and rings a bell on the dock. Owen and Trent each make a remark about how easy the challenge sounds, but by noon, everyone is starting to feel the heat.
Chris and Chef are sitting on top of the canoes while taunting the campers about missing lunch. This causes Owen to think about quitting, but Max catches on and tells him not to.
The Bass are still holding up strong, so Duncan tries to talk to Axel again. He says that he knows she hates him, but they’re both stuck between the two couples and need each other. This causes Axel to angrily reply that she’d take her chances with the others over him, leaving Duncan beginning to get annoyed. However, Trent overhears the conversation and begins to look worried.
As night rolls through, the campers are all tired, especially Owen, who has fallen asleep with his arms still holding onto the canoe. Chef is recalling a story from his military days, and Heather asks him what war he was in, causing him to shout at her. Heather then turns to Shawn and tries to strike up a conversation with him.
Heather: Hey Zombie Boy, how do you feel about joining my alliance?
Shawn: Wait what? You’re kidding, right?
Heather: You and Emma were friends, yes?
Shawn: Sure, but that doesn’t mean I trust you. What happened to getting payback on me for locking you in the freezer?
Heather: You could trust me if you were in my alliance. With Emma gone, I’m missing a member of the alliance, and if you join, you won’t be in as bad a spot as you are now.
Shawn: Oh, and what is that supposed to mean?
Heather: Think about it. I didn’t vote Emma off, she got herself eliminated. If the team knew you worked with her, maybe they’d vote you out too. Especially since you’re such a big threat without any allies. With me, I could protect you, plus I won’t plot against you anymore.
Shawn: You were plotting against me?
Heather: That’s besides the point. Just think about it.
Later, Chef has finished bragging about his line of duty just in time for Max to decide he isn’t going to stand in one spot anymore. Much to his teammate’s dismay, he walks down the dock and rings the bell, thus allowing the contestants to drop their canoes. Chef insults Max through his megaphone before ordering everyone else to go to the mess hall to eat dinner, getting Owen excited.
In the cafeteria, Chef announces that everyone will get only ten minutes to eat before he starts night training, which gains him a lot of complaints. Damien asks him where the food is, and Chef gestures to a row of trash cans filled with leftover garbage from breakfast, which only causes more complaining. Owen, however, doesn’t discriminate against the disgusting food and eats some anyway. Chris then invites Chef to eat at the craft services tent, leaving the teams to themselves.
Trent meets with Sammy and tells her about what he heard between Duncan and Axel. He says that Duncan has a point and that since nobody really likes Duncan, Axel would be the deciding vote between them and Dawn and Damien. Hearing this, Sammy comes up with an idea, and suggests winning Axel over ahead of time so that she’s with them. Trent likes the idea, so Sammy goes over to talk with Axel. They have a friendly conversation, and Sammy offers Axel the least disgusting food she can find in the trash, to which Axel declines. Sammy then returns to Trent to talk about other ways to win Axel over.
Damien was watching Sammy’s conversation with Axel, and realises what she and Trent were trying to do, so he walks over to Dawn to talk with her.
Damien: I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to start getting extra votes against Trent and Sammy
Dawn: But why? Wouldn’t we just vote Duncan?
Damien: No, that’s not- I mean, after Duncan’s gone, all that’s left of the Killer Bass is us, them, and Axel. And I think they know that too, because they’re trying to bond with her.
Dawn: Yes, Axel is stuck in between the four of us. I’m not very worried though. I’m good friends with her.
Damien: I know, but we should start getting closer so that if need be, Axel will vote with us instead of them.
Damien then digs through the trash and finds a carrot that is half eaten, but otherwise clean. He decides to save it for Bunny, before noticing that Dawn looks unsure of something. He asks her what’s wrong and she brushes it off as having missed Bunny while it was gone. Damien is happy with this answer and tells Dawn that he knew she and Bunny would get along well, but this only makes her feel worse.
Confessional:
Dawn: Bunny left Damien, but I still don’t know why Duncan found a replacement. Duncan is not to be trusted, but I don’t know how to break the news to Damien that Bunny’s really gone.
We then cut to the next part of the boot camp, which is to repeat Chef’s suspiciously Triller-esque dance routine. The dancing goes on for a while until it’s interrupted when Duncan shuts off the music. Chef angrily asks him what he’s doing so Duncan reminds him about how once someone drops out the training ends. Chef says that they’ll be done when he says they’re done, before forcing Duncan to do push-ups.
Next up, write a three hundred word essay about how much you love Chef, being eliminated if you fall asleep or fail to reach the minimum word count. Owen and Katie are discussing ways to pad out their essays while cracking jokes to make each other laugh. Seeing the two of them bonding, Shawn turns back to his own essay looking a little less confident.
Duncan takes a break from doing the challenge to try and persuade Axel to join him again. She snaps at him and tells him to get lost, but Duncan mentions Shawn, which gets her attention.
Duncan: Let’s face it, everybody knows you like Shawn.
Axel: So? If you want to mock me about it, expect a fight!
Duncan: No, I’m saying that you two are pathetic. Neither one of you ever makes a move! Watching you two is like watching a car crash in slow motion.
Axel: (Sarcastically) Thanks for the advice, Dr. Love.
Duncan: You need a wingman, badly. So it’s going to be me.
Axel: Why would I ever listen to you?
Duncan: Because if you and Shawn are ever going to be a thing, you need me.
Axel: Fine. But if you pull anything you’ll leave this island in a cast.
Duncan gets Axel to close the deal with a handshake before returning back to working on the challenge. Later, Chef returns to pick up the essays, and eliminates both Trent and Zoey for falling asleep. As for everyone else, their essays meet the requirement, although Duncan’s is just one sentence with 289 verys in between. On his way out of the cafeteria, Chef slips in a puddle of Owen’s drool from him being half asleep, and Duncan offers to clean him off. This causes Chef to yell at him again, and the rest of the Bass stop Duncan from saying anything more, lest he get them all in trouble.
The next evening, the training continues, as Chef forces the campers to run an obstacle course until everyone can do it in less than a minute. As they climb a wooden wall, Axel asks Duncan for advice and he tells her she should get Shawn’s attention by showing off her survival skills in the course. Axel takes the advice and waits for Shawn to reach the top of the wall before jumping off and doing acrobatic tricks in midair. This catches Shawn’s eye, who shows off some tricks of his own in return.
The obstacle course causes trouble for some of the other campers, as Owen gets stuck while jumping through a tire, getting him eliminated. On top of that, Damien falls flat on his face when climbing the wall. He pukes up some mud, and is coughing and sputtering, so Chef eliminates him too and sends him to the infirmary.
After going through a montage of campers falling into the mud or otherwise failing, we see Katie struggle to clear a rope swing. She remembers what Owen told her and tries it again, only to clear it easily. She cheers for herself before continuing to run the course.
While crawling through the mud, Sammy reaches a deep spot and starts sinking. Duncan passes while mocking her, only to come across an angry Chef. He gives Duncan more pushups, but Duncan just thanks Chef before kissing him on the nose. This sends Chef off the edge and he announces that Duncan will spend the rest of the night in solitary confinement in the boathouse. This causes everyone to gasp, but Duncan asks how bad it could be, before we cut to him sitting in the boathouse regretting that comment.
In the cafeteria, the contestants remaining in the boot camp are being fed rock hard gruel. Dawn sits down next to Axel, intending to win her over, but Axel is the one to talk first. She explains to Dawn how Duncan is working as a wingman for her and Shawn, and while Dawn is happy for Axel, she reminds her about how Duncan is untrustworthy. She talks about how he replaced Bunny when it left Damien, and that she thinks he has a secret agenda behind everything. Axel agrees with Dawn but leaves to get more advice from Duncan anyway.
Heather finds the gruel Chef has served her to be well past unappetizing, and chooses to instead try to persuade Shawn again. She points out how close Owen, Katie and Max have become, and that since she still has Zoey, they’ll go after him first. After careful consideration, Shawn caves and agrees to work with her. But he specifies that while he will do what’s required for her to protect him, he will not associate himself as a member of her alliance. Despite this, Heather is still pleased by the news, and leaves to get some sleep.
In the boathouse, Axel finds Duncan sweeping the floors to pass the time.
Duncan: Did you get General Crazy angry at you too?
Axel: No, I’m here so you can make good on our deal. What’s some more advice you have?
Duncan: Really? You can’t be so desperate that you need my help for every single thing.
Axel: Then what do you want me to do then? This was entirely your idea!
Duncan: Just ask Shawn out. Maybe set up a date or something. But if you just sit there and don’t talk to him I promise you that nothing good will happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mess with Chef.
Duncan then leaves despite Chef’s orders and heads towards the craft services tent, leaving Axel behind wondering what she could do.
In the Gophers cabin, Katie visits Owen, who congratulates her on doing so well in the boot camp. Katie is ecstatic at her performance and thanks him for giving her the pep talk. Max, while also happy for Katie, insists that “Evil has better things to do than make friends” as he works on something secret in his bunk bed. Owen tells Katie that he thinks she can win the entire challenge, but to this Katie is still a bit skeptical.
The remaining Bass return to their cabin to find Trent and Damien playing cards on the front steps, and inside Dawn finds various snacks left in a big pile on her bed. She’s confused how it got there, but is happy to finally find something edible, so she invites everybody on both teams to hang out and eat the food. As the eleven of them dig in, they discuss how insane Chef is for making them do full on combat training, with only Shawn, Axel, and surprisingly Katie enjoying the challenge. Eventually the relaxation is ruined when Chef barges in and orders everyone in the Killer Bass to line up outside. He announces that the food they were dining on was stolen from the craft services tent, and that he was tipped off that it was one of them because the perpetrator left a raw bass in the fridge. Dawn confesses that she found it on her bed, but before she can explain herself Chef automatically eliminates her from the boot camp and confiscates the rest of the food.
Chef starts the last part of the boot camp the next morning, which is to hang upside-down from a tree until only one person is left. The last campers left are Sammy, Duncan and Axel for the Bass, and Shawn, Heather and Katie for the Gophers. Axel confronts Duncan about what he did, and he admits he stole Chris and Chef’s food, left a bass behind as a calling card and dumped the food on the first bed he found. Axel is pissed at him for getting Dawn in trouble with Chef and cuts the deal between them, causing Duncan to tell her that he never really cared.
Confessional:
Duncan: Okay, maybe I went a little too far, but I’ve always found a way to stay in the game. Surely this will be no different, right?
Chef rants about the side effects of being upside down, and as he goes over each one, someone gets it, causing them to fall off the tree. Eventually it’s down to Axel and Katie, with Dawn cheering on Axel while Owen motivates Katie. Axel looks between Dawn and Duncan, and is visibly conflicted, while Katie’s starting to get dizzy. But just as she’s about to fall, Axel jumps off first, meaning the Screaming Gophers win. Katie then falls off the tree before being enveloped in a bear hug by Owen. Chef congratulates Katie, saying he’d go to war with her anytime, but she gets mixed messages from the complement.
Duncan scolds Axel, saying she lost the challenge for them. But she snaps at him in front of everyone.
Axel: You are not fit to be on this island! You essentially threw two challenges, ridiculed me the entire game, and now got Dawn disqualified just because you wanted to prank Chef! So excuse me if I want you out!
Duncan snaps back at her before storming off, and for the first time in a while, Axel looks relieved. Dawn then comes up to her with Damien telling her that she did the right thing. Afterwards, Damien asks Dawn if she only said that to get Axel on their side, gaining an annoyed look from her. Seeing this, he backtracks and says that they should help Axel like real friends, and is relieved when Dawn nods her head in agreement.
Vote off a Killer Bass and come up with any plot points you want to see later.

[To view the original post, click here]
If you’re a musician, then you’re a spiritual person.
You may call yourself an atheist…. or an agnostic…. or Frank, whatever you prefer.
But you’re a spiritual person nonetheless.
Because according to the definition that I just made up in my head as I typed this, spirituality is anything that aspires towards the truth.
Now, you may say this isn’t your goal. You may even be openly running away from problems in your own life. You may even believe that life is inherently meaningless or absurd.
But in music, I am certain you are seeking the truth.
Even you, my jaded friends, the very fact that you’re reading this post is because somewhere in you……….the ember of belief still burns.****
(***Just a heads up, if you aren’t resonating at this point, this will be a very uncomfortable read for you…)
“Now Michael, how do you know I’m seeking the truth? You’re just a man I don’t really know very well…”
I know because I feel the exact same way when I make music.
But the moment the recording light on my phone starts blinking (is that a thing?), whatever truth I aspire towards slips through my fingers.***
(****For those not picking up on this vibe, really appreciate you giving it a shot but this Substack is probably just gonna be more of this… so thanks for coming out!)
--------------------------------------------------------
The other day, I tried to film a YouTube video.
I was gonna talk about music business news and give my thoughts, and in my head, it was beautiful.
I was funny but serious. Authoritative, but also kinda in on the joke. Post-ironic and good spirited.
Me and Preston (who lived in the podcast studio for a brief period of time to get this label off the ground🫡) set up the cameras and got the set looking nice.
I was going to talk about the Universal Music and TikTok dispute. I had some hot takes I wanted to share, and I was ready to spit some facts.
I figured a series talking about music business would be a cool way to align my interest in business with my passion for music. Our parent company (long live the mothership, Mastering.com ⚔️) has a large following on YouTube, so they offered to help me launch the new series.
Preston (🫡 ) printed the earnings reports and had them on my sick looking executive desk (actually $40 on FB marketplace). I even bought those swinging clackers (or Newton’s cradle for chumps) to make my desk look extra slick.
I turned to Preston, and said “let’s rock and roll” or something like that.
Preston hit RECORD.
I took off at a casual but lively gate. I hit a well timed planned joke early and I was hand-gesturing at a steady clip.
I had prepared what I would say a few times in my head… but pretty quickly I started having a hard time stitching the ideas together.
A stumble, a recovery…….. a joke, a nervous laugh! ….a thought about the nervous laugh, a thought about the thought about the nervous laugh….blank…..blank……. darkness……
And before I knew it, whatever truth I was about to bear down on the world evaporated above me.
After about 5 minutes, like a car steaming from the hood, I pulled the show over to the side of the road and shut her down.
I turned to Preston (🫡) and said “oh my gosh this is boring as sh**”.
I was like Walter Cronkite without the believability, charm, or dashing good looks… I had all the pizzaz of an (unsalted) Saltine cracker.
Anyways it was very bad, and I knew it.
And not in the self-pity way… it just clearly wasn’t my thing. I have an interview podcast which felt pretty natural from Day 1, but for some reason when I’m talking to the camera I couldn’t relax.
I knew it would be very bad for a while until I improved.
Now…. I believed I could get good at it if I just put in the time and the effort. But “being good on camera” was never something I wanted to get good at.
I just wanted to be myself and share (what I hoped) was the truth.
I turned to Preston (🫡 )and I said:
“This was a failure, I must go home now.”
A man of my word, I went home and I told my wife what happened, to which she replied:
“yeah I could’ve told you that you would’ve hated filming a YouTube video.”
She was right. She’s always right. And I mean that sincerely.
--------------------------------------------------------
After the sharp sting of a failure wore off, I re-examined how I could promote Mad Records in a way that aligned my interest in business with my passion for music (my original goal with the YouTube video.)
And that night, I started this Substack.
I talked about the UMG / TikTok dispute, and it felt really natural. I was able to write freely, make edits, take breaks, and strive for the truth. I even got to hang out with my sweet 12-year old Maltese queen, Katie, while I wrote it. What a joy.
(You can check out that post here after you finish this!)
And unlike my crushed YouTube aspirations, my article turned out pretty ok - which was a good enough starting point for me.
SO WHAT’S THE POINT?
If you feel like your “content” isn’t capturing the deep, spiritual truth you’re aspiring for with your music, then you have two options:

1. Give yourself the time to improve. Be patient and expect no results in the meantime. If results happen, then congrats, you’re now good at that thing.
2. Give yourself grace for falling short of your vision, and find a different medium/method that captures it. Nurse your wounds with people who understand what you’re trying to accomplish.

There is always a way to share your creative vision in a way that aligns with your values.
You just have to build up a pain tolerance for failing publicly.
However, for the love of all things holy, please subscribe to this SubStack…. I can’t fail again I have plans this weekend.)
Long Live Mad Records ⚔️

• mike

I was at Wasteland watching Mandy.There was a dude in glasses, and a bandana covering right behind me.His buddy in similar darker clothing didn’t fit in had a small backpack ,and I’m sure one was the doing the pick pocketing, and the other was the holder.They were trying to get closer and closer to me ,and I kept turning rapidly using my peripheral vision to see what was going on. They saw me with my phone gimbal so I know I was targeted as well as my gf . We had our keys on a clutch loop ,and locking carabeaners on our solar chargers. I’m paranoid person in general and have tiny locking clips on all my zippers.Anyways I think they gave up because it’s hard even for me to get in it and with me purposely moving back and forth dancing and turning back to see what’s going on they left after like 5 mins. Even with a sheriff and security guard present right infront of them.So take extra measures on you hydro packs small clips is a good deterrent is a good way to prevent pick pocketed.

Hello guys!
I'm looking for an electronic music video, but I only have a few remnants of memories and I can't find the name of the artist or even the song. The clip/song is at least 5 years old. The clip shows a guy and a girl on the subway or bus, the guy is wearing headphones and notices the girl staring at him, so he offers one side of the headphones and the two start listening to a song together. From there they become a couple. I remember a scene where the guy is riding a skateboard, another scene where they are in a nightclub dancing, another scene where the girl seems to be writing a letter where she starts with "hey stranger". I think the song itself doesn't have anyone singing, it's more instrumental. Maybe some voice in the chorus, I don't remember for sure. Thank you in advance to whoever has the answer!

Taken from: https://www.theringer.com/movies/2024/5/21/24161120/greatest-movie-car-chase-scenes-ranked-furiosa-mad-max-saga
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.

20. Quantum of Solace (2008)

There have been some memorable car chases in the James Bond franchise: the first sequence featuring the iconic Aston Martin DB5 in Goldfinger, the corkscrew jump in The Man With the Golden Gun, the Lotus Esprit submarine in The Spy Who Loved Me. But I’m going with a somewhat controversial pick here: Quantum of Solace. There are many issues with Quantum of Solace—namely, it was one of the most high-profile blockbusters affected by the 2007-08 writers strike—but its opening scene isn’t one of them. Picking up right where Casino Royale left off, we find Bond (Daniel Craig) evading henchmen through the narrow roads around Italy’s Lake Garda. The frenetic, furious chase mirrors Bond’s sense of anguish after losing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), the woman he opened his heart to, and his relentless quest for answers. It’s a thrilling tone-setter for Quantum of Solace and one that doesn’t overstay its welcome, capped off by Bond sending his final pursuers flying off a cliff:
If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.

19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)

The Mission: Impossible franchise is no stranger to electrifying chase scenes, the best of which find Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt working up his heart rate. When it comes to action behind the wheel, though, Fallout tends to dominate the discussion—even on this very website. But I think the vehicular chase in Rogue Nation is being slept on. What we have is effectively two sequences for the price of one: The first finds Hunt pursuing Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) by car through the narrow streets of Casablanca alongside some nefarious henchmen; the second sees him continue the chase outside the city on motorbike. (Adding to the chaos: Hunt had only just been resuscitated, and he’s clearly not all there.) In terms of death-defying stunts for the audience’s entertainment, a helmetless Cruise taking corners like a MotoGP racer is child’s play compared to his other exploits, but the actor’s authentic reaction to scraping his knee on the road underlines that there’s no one else in Hollywood doing it like him:
We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.

18. Vanishing Point (1971)

A movie that counts the likes of Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino among its biggest fans, Vanishing Point is the first of a few entries on this ranking that’s essentially one extended car chase. The film stars Barry Newman as Kowalski, a man tasked with delivering a Dodge Challenger T 440 Magnum from Colorado to California while eluding police across four states. One of Kowalski’s most memorable run-ins comes when a guy driving a Jaguar E-Type convertible challenges him to an impromptu race. Incredibly, we’re expected to believe the man in the Jag comes out of this crash in one piece:
Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.

17. Fast Five (2011)

Let’s face it, Fast & Furious has seen better days. Some believe the franchise’s dip in quality coincided with the death of Paul Walker; others are dismayed by the pivot from street racing to absurd feats of superherodom—emphasis on the Dom. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but the very best movie in the series, Fast Five, manages to strike the perfect balance: It’s a relatively grounded heist thriller that nevertheless takes the franchise to ridiculous new heights. After Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew steal $100 million from a Brazilian kingpin, they drag the entire bank vault holding the money through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, all while being pursued by authorities. It’s a delightfully destructive sequence that does untold damage to Rio’s infrastructure and features some of the most bone-crunching crashes committed to film:
If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.

16. The Blues Brothers (1980)

A good car chase isn’t reserved just for action flicks: Comedies can get in on the act, too. In The Blues Brothers, starring the recurring Saturday Night Live characters played by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the beloved bandmates must prevent the foreclosure of the orphanage where they were raised by scrounging together $5,000. Naturally, that’s easier said than done: Along the way, the Blues Brothers draw the attention of neo-Nazis, a country-and-western band, and local police. While The Blues Brothers has amusing gags and musical numbers, its chase sequences with the Brothers behind the wheel of a 1974 Dodge Monaco are what really steal the show—and none are better than a climactic pursuit across Chicago. More than 60 old police cars were used in the film, some of which are wrecked in a comically over-the-top pileup:
The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.

15. Baby Driver (2017)

For good and for ill, Edgar Wright’s movies exude an abundance of style, and Baby Driver is no exception. Baby Driver is centered on a clever gimmick: The action works in tandem with its soundtrack because the film’s protagonist, Baby (Ansel Elgort), suffers from tinnitus and constantly plays music to drown out the ringing. When everything’s clicking into place, Baby Driver feels like a supersized series of music videos, and nothing hits quite like its opening sequence. Baby acts as the getaway driver for a bank robbery while listening to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s “Bellbottoms.” The ensuing chase works around rhythms of the song, as if Baby’s Subaru WRX were the star of its own dance number. Take nothing away from the actual driving, either, which puts the rally car to good use:
Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.

14. The Raid 2 (2014)

With a trio of kickass Indonesian martial arts films under his belt, Gareth Evans has established himself as one of the most exciting action directors on the planet—someone who seems most in his element staging positively brutal hand-to-hand combat. In The Raid 2, however, Evans also brought his signature brand of carnage to the road. While there’s some cleverly executed close-quarters fighting within the confines of an SUV, courtesy of Iko Uwais’s hard-hitting protagonist, what really cements this sequence’s greatness are the moments when Evans turns the cars into an extension of the characters’ fists:
This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.

13. The Driver (1978)

I’ll say this for Walter Hill’s The Driver: It sure lives up to its title. In this stripped-down thriller—one where none of the characters have a name—we follow the Driver (Ryan O’Neal), a getaway driver who has become a thorn in the side of the LAPD. In the film’s best scene, we see its taciturn protagonist living up to his reputation. With the Driver behind the wheel of a 1974 Ford Galaxie, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds when a handful of police cars are hot on his tail. What I love about this sequence is the pared-down nature of it all: The Driver outwits the cops as much as he outraces them. (Though, ironically, that wasn’t entirely by design: As Hill later explained, an accident on the last night of shooting meant they had to cobble together what had already been filmed.) Frankly, you’d never know the difference from the finished article:
If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.

12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

The shaky-cam style of the Bourne franchise isn’t for everyone—just ask John Woo—but credit where it’s due: These movies know how to deliver a good chase scene. (A friendly reminder that The Bourne Legacy is an underrated gem with an awesome motorbike sequence to boot.) But there’s one Bourne chase that stands above the rest: the Moscow getaway in The Bourne Supremacy. After being wounded by the Russian assassin Kirill (Karl Urban), Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) hijacks a taxi, with both the police and Kirill in hot pursuit. This isn’t the kind of sequence that lingers on any one shot; instead, what makes it work is the frenetic nature of the editing, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re in Bourne’s fight-or-flight headspace:
If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.

11. The Seven-Ups (1973)

Philip D’Antoni was the producer of two movies featuring Hall of Fame car chases, Bullitt and The French Connection, the latter of which won him an Oscar for Best Picture. And with his lone directorial feature, The Seven-Ups, D’Antoni sought to craft an iconic sequence of his own. The film stars Roy Scheider as NYPD detective Buddy Mannuci (elite Italian American name; I can practically smell the gabagool), who commands a unit handling major felony cases that lead to seven-plus-year prison sentences; that’s why they’re known as the Seven-Ups. Midway through the movie, when one of the team members is killed by two shooters who flee the scene, Buddy chases after them. The 10-minute sequence, which starts in the Upper West Side before moving out of the city, is thrillingly immersive, alternating between close-ups of the characters and wider shots of all the damage they’ve caused. But the chase’s defining moment comes right at the end, when Buddy narrowly avoids a grisly death:
The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.

10. Death Proof (2007)

If you ask Quentin Tarantino, Death Proof, his knowingly trashy tribute to exploitation cinema, is the worst movie he’s ever made. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to admire about the film, which honors the unsung heroes of Hollywood: stunt performers. The first half of Death Proof follows three female friends who cross paths with Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a misogynistic serial killer who takes them out in his “death-proof” Chevy Nova. Fourteen months later, a group that includes stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself, also lands on Mike’s radar. As Bell and her friends test out a ’70s Challenger, she performs a “ship’s mast” stunt, clinging onto the hood of the car with fastening belts. Unfortunately, when Mike pursues the women, it puts Bell in a precarious situation. Most of the entries on this list celebrate some next-level driving skills, but Death Proof’s inclusion is all about Bell pulling off one of the wildest stunts you’ll ever see. She’s quite literally hanging on for dear life:
If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.

9. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)

William Friedkin was already responsible for an all-time great car chase in The French Connection (more on that later), but the filmmaker made a commendable bid to outdo himself with To Live and Die in L.A. In this neo-noir thriller, Secret Service agent Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) is hell-bent on arresting an expert counterfeiter, Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe), who kills Chance’s partner days before his retirement. To capture Masters, Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich (John Pankow), attempt to steal $50,000 from a jewelry buyer for an undercover operation. The sting goes bad when the buyer, who is later revealed to be an undercover FBI agent, is killed and a group of gunmen goes after Chance and Vukovich. It’s a clever inversion of the usual car chase formula—this time, it’s the lawmen running away from the criminals. The outside-the-box thinking extends to the film’s most astonishing stretch, in which Chance evades the gunmen by driving into oncoming traffic:
The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.

8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)

The Matrix sequels have never been held in high esteem, but I’m ready to live my truth: The Matrix Reloaded fucking rules. (If anyone’s got a problem with this take, file your complaints with the Architect.) What’s more, the film happens to boast the finest action set piece of the franchise: the highway chase. After Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) free the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), a program capable of creating shortcuts within the Matrix, they’re pursued by the Twins (Neil and Adrian Rayment). Morpheus once warned that going on the freeway was “suicide,” and it doesn’t take long to see why: The chase draws the attention of several Agents, who repeatedly take over the bodies of other drivers on the road. The scene is the best of both worlds: There’s some incredible stuntwork on display, including when Moss weaves around on a Ducati, and CGI augments some feats of superhuman strength. But the most jaw-dropping aspect of the sequence is how it came together, as the production spent $2.5 million to construct its own highway (!) on California’s Alameda Island. If that weren’t unique enough, I’m pretty sure Reloaded is also the only movie in existence in which a katana takes out an SUV:
The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.

7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)

Size isn’t everything, but for H. B. Halicki, who produced, wrote, directed, and starred in Gone in 60 Seconds, it’s certainly part of the package. The indie action flick follows Maindrian Pace (Halicki), a Los Angeles insurance investigator who has a lucrative side hustle jacking high-end cars. The plot kicks into motion when a South American drug lord enlists Pace to nab 48 cars within five days in exchange for $400,000. Of course, Gone in 60 Seconds is best known for what happens after Pace is caught stealing a 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1, when he leads police on a chase that lasts a whopping 40 minutes. (More than 90 cars were destroyed in the process.) Halicki, for his part, did all the driving himself, including a spectacular jump off a makeshift ramp of crashed cars:
While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.

6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

Long before James Cameron immersed himself in the world of Pandora, he was a pioneer of state-of-the-art visual effects. Case in point: Terminator 2: Judgment Day is credited for having the first CGI character in a blockbuster, the T-1000 (Robert Patrick), a killing machine composed of a futuristic liquid metal. But Cameron also understood that the CGI of that era shouldn’t be the main attraction: It worked best as a complement to the practical effects, as seen in Judgment Day’s epic viaduct chase. When the T-1000 tracks down a young John Connor (Edward Furlong) in a shopping mall, he’s saved at the last minute by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), giving John a chance to escape on his dirt bike. As the T-1000 gives chase, the David and Goliath vibes between man and machine are further epitomized by the T-1000’s commandeering of a truck. The sequence already has a terrifying sense of urgency, but it hits another level when the T-1000 crashes through the viaduct like the Kool-Aid Man:
Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.

5. Duel (1971)

The feature-length debut of Steven Spielberg—perhaps you’ve heard of him—the TV movie Duel is essentially one extended chase sequence between salesman David Mann (Dennis Weaver) and a sinister trucker determined to drive him off the road. I’ve attached a clip from the ending of the film, but that doesn’t do Duel justice. What cements this movie’s greatness is how it sustains an unbearable level of tension across its 90-minute running time—with a budget under $500,000, no less. Spielberg’s masterstroke is never once showing us the other driver, anthropomorphizing the truck itself as a monster. (You can see a lot of similarities with how he would build suspense in Jaws.) When Mann finally gets the upper hand, tricking his adversary into driving off a cliff, it feels like you can breathe again:
Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.

4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Like Duel, Fury Road is basically one long car chase—the difference is Miller got to work with a blockbuster budget, and made every cent of it count. It’s hard to pick a single standout sequence in Fury Road, but if I had to choose, I’d go with the first attack on the War Rig after Furiosa (Charlize Theron) flees with the wives of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Here’s why: Think back to when you saw Fury Road for the first time, before you fully grasped the vehicular carnage that was in store. And then stuff like this kept happening:
To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.

3. The French Connection (1971)

We return to the Friedkin-verse for what may be his best film, The French Connection, the crime thriller based on Robin Moore’s 1969 nonfiction book of the same name. The story concerns two NYPD detectives, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider), and their tireless pursuit of a French heroin smuggler. But while there’s plenty to admire about how The French Connection illustrates the thin line between police and criminals, its greatest claim to fame is its car chase. After Popeye narrowly survives a sniper attack, he goes after the shooter, who escapes on an elevated train. The ensuing sequence is true daredevil filmmaking that Friedkin shot without permits, leading to real crashes with New Yorkers that made the final cut. But Friedkin’s finest touch was mounting a camera to the front of the car, making the audience feel like they’re part of the action:
My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.

2. Bullitt (1968)

When it comes to modern car chases, all roads lead back to Bullitt. A Dad Cinema classic, the film stars Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a San Francisco detective who pursues a group of mobsters after a key witness is killed in protective custody. In his search for answers, Bullitt realizes he’s being tailed by a couple of hitmen, and then turns the tables on them. From there, the chase is on. Aside from McQueen doing most of his own stunts behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang GT 390 Fastback, what’s so impressive about the sequence is how timeless it is. Even the little imperfections, like hubcaps repeatedly coming off the wheels, work to the film’s advantage, stressing just how much these drivers are living on a razor’s edge. It’s been more than 50 years since Bullitt revolutionized the car chase, and yet few movies since have felt like they’re pushing the envelope to such an exhilarating degree:
That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.

1. Ronin (1998)

“If I’m going to do a car chase,” filmmaker John Frankenheimer said in an interview with the American Society of Cinematographers, “I’m going to do a car chase that’s going to make somebody think about whether or not they want to do another one!” Boy, did he ever. In Frankenheimer’s late-career masterpiece, Ronin, the director actually incorporated several chases, but it’s the climactic sequence that stands alone as the greatest ever filmed. The movie concerns an international group of mercenaries who are hired to steal a mysterious briefcase; a series of double-crosses and double-bluffs ensue. But for the final chase, all you need to know is that Sam (Robert De Niro), a mercenary with ties to the CIA, is in pursuit of Deirdre (Natascha McElhone), an IRA operative in possession of the case. Winding through the streets and tunnels of Paris, what’s most striking is just how fluid it all feels. You’re completely engrossed in the chase’s forward momentum, captured from every conceivable angle; a symphony of controlled chaos. The driving styles even reflect the characters: Deirdre is reckless and impulsive, while Sam remains calm and controlled.
There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.

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

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

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Meme 37: Kitty got busy making memes.
Meme 38: That's what he does now. He could be an investor, the clip says (\"Or go back to his old finance job\"). But, instead, he has become a memelord. Memes last forever, investment thesis do not.
Meme 39: DVF probably got a lot of grief from those close to him. He said what he said, and if you don't support him than hey, ill distract you with something else. he is doing it anyway.
Meme 40: In this next \"Signs\" sequence, we are Mel Gibson and Jaoqin Pheonix. We are looking for signs, from GameStop, from DFV.Looking for any news and information. About this time a photo of Kitty at a fun run was posted.
Meme 41: Mel Gibsons (our) Head is turned to field, where a sign from gamestop is seen. Share offering perhaps? Some other filing?
Meme 42: Listening to the \"aliens\" (GameStop and Kitty) are communicating, as mentioned before. Nothing serious, not insider trading, just \"hey kitty, troll post on this day\"
Meme 43: Our characters are discussing the signs, are we crazy, or do they mean something?
Meme 44: We are still looking for the signs..
Meme 45: The song is \"your never going to survive, unless you are a little crazy\". This is about us, forging our new identity as Apes. Doing DD. Hodling.
Meme 46: A dance montage. Kitty is ready, and he is excited!!!
Meme 47: Intro is R K Gill carry a suitcase, which blows open. His memes are ready to be unleashed. \"Bear beware, you're in for a scare\". finished with the title card, based on the Memes by Kitty.. Pretty self explanatory
Meme 48: Car pulls up \"I'm Britney B!tch\". Kitty Is Britney. Singing that he still believes, and he is giving you a sign.
Side note Meme 48: DFV meme spree in June
Side note Meme 48: And GameStop ran in June (as I think its about to again... With the recent swaps evidence)
Meme 49: His memes have a purpose... HE IS THE DISTRACTION.
Meme 50: Kitty is ready to fight, to do his job!
Meme 51: Starts with Jigsaw, do you want to play a game, and transitions to this. KITTY IS THE DISTRACTION. This was the Kansas city shuffle. Shares sold. 1 billy cash on hand. The price pumped because of Swaps rolling, DFV was the distraction, and RC cashed in. Now GameStop is safe, Has cash on hand, Manipulation is confirmed... HEDGIES GOT PLAYED
Meme 52: And Kitty disappeared. His job was done. Nothing remained but his memes..
Meme 53: This scene, the person lights a match that follows a gasoline trail from the car. The car tries to escape, but its gasoline trail follows it and it explodes.. The song playing \"karma police\"... The Kansas City Shuffle was complete and hedgies had led to their own demise by securing GameStops future. Karma.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

219 bands, 219 songs! Here's the YouTube Music Version:
Deathcore/Metalcore - Best One Song Encyclopedia
Obviously "best song" is a very subjective notion, but I got a bunch of input from the big Deathcore/Metalcore group on FB, as well as Metalcore during the brief period before the post was removed (imagine tongue-sticking-out emoji here!) Anyway, the alphabetized band list by itself is pretty cool, IMHO. Enjoy - and please feel free to make suggestions for additions or changes!

1. Aborted - Dreadbringer
2. Abbie Falls - Pitch Black
3. Across the Sun – May Silence Keep You
4. After The Burial - Behold The Crown
5. A Hero A Fake – I Know I
6. All Out War – Into the Killing Fields
7. Allt – Paralyzed
8. All That Remains - This Calling
9. Alpha Wolf - Akudama
10. alt. - BACK TO EARTH
11. A Mourning Star – A World Beyond
12. Angelmaker- What I Would Give
13. Annalynn - Closer to the Edge
14. Annisokay - Coma Blue
15. Any Given Day – Savior
16. Architects - These Colors Don’t Run
17. As Blood Runs Black – In Dying Days
18. As I Lay Daying - The Sound of Truth
19. Asking Alexandria - A Single Moment of Sincerity
20. Atena – Oil Rigs
21. ATLVS – Comethazine
22. Atreyu – Crimson
23. Attack! Attack! – Killing for Sport
24. Avenged Sevenfold – Unholy Confessions
25. Aviana – Rage
26. August Burns Red - White Washed
27. AVOID - Whatever
28. Bad Omens - ARTIFICIAL SUICIDE
29. Before I Turn – Aglaeca
30. Being as an ocean - the hardest part is forgetting those you swore you would never forget
31. Bleed from Within - Alive
32. Bleeding Through - Revenge I Seek
33. Bloodywood - Machi Bhasad
34. Bodysnatcher – Exterminate
35. Botch – One Twenty Two
36. Boundaries – I'd Rather Not Say
37. Breakdown of Sanity – The Storm
38. Bring Me the Horizon - Shadow Moses
39. Bullet for my Valentine - Four Words (To Choke Upon)
40. Bury Tomorrow – Choke
41. Caliban – Memorial
42. Carnifex - Die Without Hope
43. Caskets - The Final Say
44. Chamber - Replacing Every Weakness
45. Chelsea Grin – Cheyne Stokes
46. Chimaira – Pure Hatred
47. Classic Jack – LAG
48. Code Orange - Forever
49. coldrain - 2020
50. Conquer Divide - Afterthought.wav
51. Converge – A Single Tear
52. Counterparts - Whispers Of Your Death
53. Crimson Eyes – Serenity
54. Crown the Empire – The Fallout
55. Crystal Lake - Apollo
56. Currents - Better Days
57. Daedric - Alchemy
58. Dance Gavin Dance – Chucky vs. The Giant Tortoise
59. Dark Divine - The Fear
60. Darkest Hour - Goddess of War, Give Me Something to Die For
61. Darko US - Pale Tongue
62. Dal Av & Jackson Rose – Insanely Illegal Cage Fight
63. Dead Crown – Joker
64. Dealer – Crooked
65. Defocus – Crooked Mind
66. Demon Hunter - Cross to Bear
67. Downswing – Bound to Misery (feat. AVOID)
68. Dying Wish - Enemies in Red
69. Earth Crisis – Forced March
70. Eighteen Visions – Reality Killer
71. Elwood Stray - Half Life
72. Emmure - When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong
73. Enterprise Earth – Reanimate // Disintegrate
74. ERRA - Lunar Halo
75. Esprit D’Air - Ocean’s Call
76. Every Time I Die - Map Change
77. Fallstar – When Justice Cracks the Sky
78. Fit for a King - Backbreaker
79. Fit for an Autopsy – Under a Serpent Sun
80. Flames of Betrayal – The Rain Reeks of Heaven
81. Foreign Hands - Separation Souvenir
82. For the Fallen Dreams – Sulfate
83. For today - Break the Cycle
84. Get the Shot – Deathbound (feat Rob Watson)
85. Ghost Iris – My Dear Rat Kings
86. Gideon -- Bite Down
87. God Forbid - To the Fallen Hero
88. Great American Ghost – Ann Arbor (Be Safe)
89. Greyhaven - Kappa (River Child)
90. Guilt Trip – Eyes Wide Shut
91. Hanabie - Otaku Lovely Densetsu
92. Harm’s Way – Become a Machine
93. Haste the Day – 68
94. Hatebreed – Own Your World
95. Heart of a Coward – Hollow
96. Heaven Shall Fall – Hunters Will Be Hunted
97. Holding Absence - Monochrome
98. Humanity’s Last Breath - Labyrinthian
99. Ice Nine Kills – The American Nightmare
100. If I Were You – System Failure
101. Imminence – Chasing Shadows
102. Impending Doom - There Will be Violence
103. In Heart’s Wake – Survival (The Chariot)
104. I Prevail - Deadweight
105. I See Stars - Running With Scissors
106. InChaos - Butterfly Effect
107. Ingested – I, Despoiler
108. Invent Animate - False Meridian
109. Jesus Piece - Fear of Failure
110. Job for a Cowboy – Sun of Nihility
111. Johnny Booth - The Ladder
112. Killswitch Engage - My Last Serenade
113. Kill The Lights - Dead From The Start
114. Knocked Loose - Deep in the Willow
115. Kublai Khan - The Hammer
116. Lamb of God - Descending
117. Left to Suffer – Overwhelming Power
118. LVNDMARKS - False Reality
119. Light the Torch - Die Alone
120. Like Moths To Flames - Dissociative Being
121. Loathe - Aggressive Evolution
122. Lorna Shore – Of the Abyss
123. Make Them Suffer - Uncharted
124. Misery Signals - Luminary
125. Malevolence – On Broken Glass
126. MAYFLOWER – Misery
127. Maylene & the Sons of Disaster – Caution: Dangerous Curves Ahead
128. MIRE – Inside
129. Miss May I – Hey Mister
130. Motionless in White – Disguise
131. Mouth for War – Saturate Me
132. Mugshot – Egodystonic
133. Myka Relocate – Hide the Truth
134. Norma Jean - Sword in Mouth, Fire Eyes
135. Nora – I Should Have Sent Flowers
136. Novelists FR - Souvenirs
137. Of Mice and Men - The Depths
138. Ocean Sleeper - Your Love I'll Never Need
139. Opal In Sky - The Blight
140. Orthodox - Cave In
141. Paleface – Lights Out
142. Paria - The Absurdity of Solace
143. Parkway Drive – Dark Days
144. Patient Sixty-Seven - Hibbertia
145. Periphery - Stranger Things
146. PERN – Gasping for Air
147. Phinehas – I Am the Lion
148. Polaris - The Remedy
149. Pupil Slicer - No Temple
150. Reflections - Help
151. Reliqa – Tyrant
152. Renesans - Labor of Hate
153. Rings of Saturn - Senseless Massacre
154. Sail’s End - The Sound of Silence 3: Three
155. Sanction – The Prophet Who Saw Fire
156. SAVE US – Distance
157. Scarlet Horizon - Seed
158. Sea of Treachery – Unleash the Serpents
159. Serration – Simulations of Hell
160. Shadow of Intent – The Prelude to Bereavement
161. Shadows Fall – The Light that Blinds
162. Shai Halud - Solely Concentrating on the Negative Aspects of Life
163. Silent Planet - Antimatter
164. Signs of the Swarm – Amongst the Low and Empty
165. Silverstein - Your Sword vs My Dagger
166. Sion – More than Just Myself
167. Slaughter to Prevail - Viking
168. Sleep Token – The Summoning
169. Snapcase – Harrison Bergeron
170. Spite – led
171. Spiritbox - The Beauty Of Suffering
172. Spiritual Chaos - End
173. Suicide Silence - Unanswered
174. Sunami – Mind Your Business
175. Sworn In – Snake Eyes
176. Tenside - Come Alive Dying
177. The Acacia Strain - The Impaler
178. The Afterimage – Secrets
179. The Amity Affliction – Pittsburgh
180. The Black Dahlia Murder – What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse
181. The Browning - The End of Existence
182. The Chariot - David De La Hoz
183. The Devil Wears Prada - Danger: Wildman
184. The Dillinger Escape Plan - One of Us is The Killer
185. The Empire Shall Fall – Voices Forming Weapons
186. The Ghost Inside – Aftermath
187. The Gloom in the Corner – Bleed You Out
188. The Human Abstract – Vela, Together We Await the Storm
189. The Ongoing Concept - Feel Again
190. The Plot in You - Crows
191. The Zenith Passage – Deus Deceptor
192. Thornhill - Casanova
193. Throwdown – This Continuum
194. Thrown - on the verge
195. Thy Art is Murder – Holy War
196. Times of Grace – Medusa
197. To the Grave – Terrorist Threat
198. Trivium - Down from the Sky
199. Undying – the Company of Storms
200. Unearth - This Glorious Nightmare
201. Upon a Burning Body – Extermination
202. Varials – Anything to Numb
203. VCTMS – Pull From the Hurt
204. Veil of Maya - Outsider
205. VEXED – X my <3 (Hope to Die)
206. Vision of Disorder - D.T.O.
207. Wage War - The River
208. Walls of Jericho – Forever Militant
209. War of Ages – Collapse
210. We Are The Empty – Carcass
211. We Came As Romans - What I Wished I never Had
212. Whitechapel - I Will Find You
213. While She Sleeps - You Are We
214. Within Destruction – Void
215. Within the Ruins – Gods Amongst Men
216. Wolves at the Gate – Deadweight
217. World of Pleasure – Carbon Copy
218. Xibalba – Death Threat
219. Zao - Resistance

Hi Guys,
Will try not to bore you. I was wondering if anyone has similar symptoms or if their progression sounds like mine.
So last year September, I woke up to this aching feeling when carrying my handbag on my right hand. Within a week, the whole hand was affected. I had pain lifting anything and I started using ibrupofen everyday to control the pain. It was that bad.
That same month, I noticed my vision became very blurry. I started having this shaky and tremor in my legs with slight cramps.
Somehow, my right leg was twitching uncontrollably too. I had shortness of breath when lying down (this has been on and off) with really bad fatigue. I was always tired.
September - Weak shoulder and arm, Painful hands
By October, noticed twitching in my neck and difficulty swallowing. Like I had to push the food down to swallow it properly. This time, I also noticed some cramps in my left fingers and hands. This continued on slowly. I still had strength.
October- Weak Left arm, swallowing issues.
November: I started twitching in my tongue. My tongue dances around. Soon, I would get mouth aches after talking for over an hour and my head felt weak, my neck could not hold itself up and would fall. I was using braces in my hands, legs and neck. This time, they did an EMG on all four limbs which came back clean. This was exactly two months since the symptoms started. I had a clean ANA profile as well.
November - Tongue twitching,neck collapse.
December - Nothing new, the symptoms just got worse. So, I decided to take a blood test. All came back ok except my iron which was extremely low and high copper.
So, I started supplementing iron. This somehow would stop the tongue dancing around for like an hour and soon it would return. This was too much to bear. So, I did the below treatments
Treatments
Feroglobin - 1 tsb per day Glu Scavenger - 1 Folic Acid - 1 Glutathione - 1 Vitamin E - 1 Vitamin D - 1 Ashwaghanda Lions Mane Lserine- 2x a day I also did a phospholipid exchange
Alas, the day I started Tudca mixed with fulvic and humic acid (omnyne on Amazon) , my life changed forever. My symptoms went down by over 90%. No longer had tongue twitching or facial weakness, I could not even notice the weakness. The pain almost went.
I have been on Tudca ever since. Realised the fulvic acid is what makes the Tudca effective so I bought Fulvic Acid separately and this was a game changer. Barely noticed any weakness. It helps with the pain and cramps too and I almost go by everyday without any pain or issues.
however, after a week of stress (I baked a lot and had a lot of guests so I had to be on my feet for close to 10 hours a day) I noticed my left leg has not become weak. The whole thing is all over my body now from head to toe. I am now experiencing similar symptoms as I did in Septembe October only this time, Tudca and acids are keeping it at bay and it did not get so bad like I had in September with my right side.
Problem is my next neuron appointment is in October and quite frankly w/o the Tudca, I think I would be in a much worse state by now. My legs are slowly better and my grip strength sometimes gets so bad but once I supplement with feroglobin, I get better.
I have asked every single person they seem not to even think this relates to the three big words or MS. MRI clean too.
Please help me.

‼️TW (CP, CSA, DA, DV, EA, ED, PA, RA, SA, SH, SI, WC)‼️
Sorry I know that’s a lot of TW’s there’s just brief mention of some of this stuff so I don’t wanna catch anyone off guard.
This is also a bit of a vent post.
I have absolutely no idea what I have, I had no idea I could potentially have a personality disorder until a few months ago, I am not meaning to rely on social media for help, though where I’m from there is such a lack in psychiatrists in my area so I feel stuck/lost. I will be venting/explaining my situation in full, I just would like to hear thoughts and opinions, I’m not trying to say I have anything specific, but the different personalities have made themselves apparent over the past 5 months. Whether it’s OSDD, BPD, DID, i don’t know.
There’s so much that I don’t really know where to start, so I guess I’ll just start with when I realized something wasn’t right. (TMI) I was having an intimate moment with my partner, it’s a long distance relationship (new relationship((known each other for about 6-7 months now)) so it was an over the phone moment. (FaceTime). I’ve had issues in the past because of sexual trauma, where immediately after sex/intimate moments i get sent into a huge derealization/panic attack due to feeling vulnerable. Now at this point, i haven’t had sex in about 4 years, and any time prior, it always ended in panic attacks. Me being vulnerable over the phone is not entirely new, but the level of vulnerability in the sense of allowing myself to fully enjoy it, that was new. I started hyperventilating, I couldn’t talk, I was crying, I was fighting with a blanket trying to cover myself all while my partner was trying to console me. I wasn’t really fully there and before this moment, any show of mania, dissociation, stuff like that, it went unnoticed. During this panic attack, I was absolutely in distress at one moment, and all of the sudden, I felt a shift. I didn’t really understand it when it happened but all of the sudden I stopped crying, the pain was still there but it wasn’t present, it felt deeper inside. It felt very different; I felt very different. All I could think and feel in that moment was this protectiveness and thought process of “I need to clean up everything before she comes back.” Now at the time I wasn’t thinking she, but I knew it was before something. Before a feeling came back was more how it resonated at the time before I could understand it better. Anyways, my whole persona shifted and I went into clean up mode and I was very confused. I felt “her” crying inside. My partner works in mental health, so he danced around delicately as I asked him questions about what he thought was going on so I could get a better picture of what I’m going through since everything felt so blinded. At one point, I just asked him. “Do you think I’m manic?” Which was the only question he responded to confidently. “Yes”. At that point, like this may seem so over exaggerated but it seriously felt like the curtains on my whole life, everything, had been pulled back and I could see myself and my actions for what they were. I saw every manic moment as mania rather than just the original gaslighting myself for my very real and terrifying experiences. After that, I was aware of me being manic for the first time and I haven’t felt such fear in a long time. I mean I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear like that before but like the level of intensity was very hard to deal with. I was terrified. I was finally seeing my hyper vigilance as hyper vigilance. I was seeing the symptoms clearly, my excessive sweating, my depleted eating habits, my sleep schedule insanely messed up. Which all before this, just seemed like “my life”. I started doing research, and I ended up needing to write something down. I can’t remember what it was but I will find it and add it.
“I’ve been doing a lot of research and thinking a lot, there’s been a lot of confusion with my identity or identities. I also need to preface that my entire life whenever I expressed how I felt, I was instead told what to do and how to feel. I know this is going to sound concerning, and people will be quick to dismiss it in an attempt to be supportive. But please just allow it to be what it is. Growing up I was always in great distress, constantly. My head was absolutely filled to the brim with worried and fears and as the years went on it only got worse. I’m highschool I transitioned into Blake; I thought it “felt” like me, but after research and certain situations/symptoms since delving back into that, I realized this was a traumatic disorder, even though I don’t know which one. Blakes feelings were 100% valid, but that’s because they were Blakes. What caused the de-transition was this. Beginning of highschool I was in crisis and distress, my brain created another personality to keep lily safe and keep her locked away. Since then I haven’t seen her, none of us have. Once Blake started receiving micro-aggressions and transphobia we went into even more distress. In 2017 my brain was absolutely stressed out from everything during the drug era and how much trauma and how burdened my mind was, I split again. My brain created Bella. Fast forward to now, Bella was breaking, and Blake had already been poking his head out, he’s been seeing the distress she’s been in and came back to take over. I never thought I was capable of having something like this l, but please bear with me as I explain how I came to this realization. This may be TMI but my partner and I were having an intimate moment and instantly afterwards I had the worst panic attack, something I’ve been trying to protect myself from for years. As I’m writing this down I’m starting to realize that those panic attacks after sexual situations are probably lily, but still valid as panic attacks. I have a lump in my throat while writing this, I promise I am not making it up or exaggerating. During the panic attack my partner was trying to console me but I completely switched in that moment to Blake and all he could feel was sorrow and was trying to give her a break. Blake came out to keep her safe. all I could do was clean up and prepare for when she came back so she wasn’t triggered, I don’t know what this is and gender fluid still feels valid and right, but in that moment of switching genders, I realized I am not switching genders, I am switching personalities. One personality could not carry the burden of it all. I am not concerned about this though, I feel with the very realization I am understanding myself better as a while.”
I was very manic when writing this. I believe I mainly wrote it for my parents. I was fearful of being dismissed.
My cousin had joined the call since I was spiraling and the both of them worked really hard to try and get me to stop writing and go to bed, which was really hard for me because I was super hyper vigilant in the moment and when it comes to my independence, I was told I have to deal with everything myself and I can’t rely on people so sometimes listening to help can be hard, accepting that help can be hard. I ended up being able to put stuff down and go to bed, more because I didn’t want to make things more difficult for them but I also could partly recognize that my actions were not helping the state I was in.
Ever since this moment it’s been realization after realization. This is so far what resonates.
I believe I have 3, possibly 4 alters. One I will name lily, she is who I originally was. Main host I guess? But doesn’t feel like it anymore. What I think happened, is that I’ve been exposed to countless amounts of different forms of abuse. When I was 12, is when I believe I split for the first time. I’ve been looking back at photos to see my mannerisms, expressions, I’ve also been expressing alter emotions through art which was another realization I had a month or two ago. This realization came from looking back at my art, and at one piece I had made just before the main breakdown/realization. It was of a face, and my art has mainly been faces. This one I remember making, I was so frustrated; and I remember looking at it and being like, why am I so frustrated, this doesn’t reflect how I feel at all. Since the realization, my cousin had pointed out that it kind of resembled a sense of splitting, which then resonated deeply. It was like I saw my painting clearly, and then I looked at all my art and was like, oh my god. My alters have been here this whole god damn time. The painting I am talking about; is the one attached to this post.
When I was a child, I hated art with a passion. I remember never picking up a pencil crayon or anything because I just didn’t like it. I wasnt good at it, I had no intention of doing art. When I was 12/13 is when I actually started doing art. I remember I did a bridesmaids dress and was like, cool. Didn’t hate it, (yes I know that this is how most artists start) but then it was just eyes. I only drew eyes, eyes and faces. Faces with third eyes, faces with hardened expressions. Now I have said countless times to my family and friends when they ask about my art, that when I paint or draw, it doesn’t feel like it’s me doing it. I once chalked it up to, artists ghosts were using me to express their art. That thought came during a particularly distressing year that when I look back I was def manic. I lost 100 lbs in like a month-a month and a half, could not eat, could barely leave my bed, was not doing well at all. This was 2019 I believe. I looked through all my art recently and during a sketchbook in 2019, during a really hard time, I had wrote down the wrong year when signing my art. Twice. The year I wrote was 2012, when I was 11/12.(2000 baby). Which then led me to look back on my life and look at photos around 2012 which had me thinking it was 1 of 2 things. 2012 was the year I split for the first time, or it was the year something really traumatic happened. I think it was the first one though. Reason being, yeah everything had started changing when I was 12. I mean I was always changing prior, my life has been very tumultuous. An undiagnosed autistic afab kid who had a very manipulative narcissistic father, and a very sweet mother, surrounded by a huge family of cousins who were like siblings. My mom divorced my dad after lots of abuse, he emotionally manipulated me into always feeling sorry for men when they show emotion and I developed Stockholm syndrome towards him which had me defending his every actions, including when he was a drug dealer, and sold enough drugs to an 18 year old to have her overdose, or the child pornography on his computer, or anything really because I was a child and he was my dad he manipulated me at a very young age. My mom married again a year or two after, which prompted her to need to get away from the abuse of my bio dad, and the abuse of religion we had been pushed upon us since birth. Pentecostal. We moved across country, and suddenly she became very emotionally distant as we now had moved away from my entire family, and had a new man in our life who was stable in every aspect besides the emotional unavailability. He tried, they both did. But they were dealing with traumas. He had just gotten back from Afghanistan. We moved because he was stationed somewhere else in the country. I ended up developing a binge eating disorder, had a lot of other intense traumas in between, did not know how to cope. When I was 10, my parents put me in therapy, my sister and I both. To deal with my bio dad trauma. I’ve been in therapy ever since. I’m 23 now.
I realize I am getting off track but I’m tryna lay everything out and not forget anything.
When I was 12/13, a lot had happened with my bio dad and a restraining order was put in place. He also had a kid with another woman and she(my sister) had passed away, a lot had happened on top of many other traumas, and I think lily broke. She didn’t really wanna be present anymore but we had no idea what was happening, but I felt myself changing. I started combating this with hyper-femininity, because who had split was me, who is currently hosting, Blake. (Also I know I use I/me as a whole sometimes, still tryna understand that. The only thing that resonates with what I mean when I say I is higher self. Not in a spiritual sense but like a higher version or a whole version? I don’t know)
Had no idea wtf was happening. All I knew was I started having dysphoria that I didn’t understand was dysphoria, so I combated it with hyperfeminity. Extra make up; always dressing up extra “girly” trying to act “girlier” or more feminine. Until I turned 14/15, and I ended up coming to terms with the fact that I was not who I thought I was, so I started changing to align with who I was. I came out as a trans man, and started the process of transitioning. Cue micro-aggressions, internalized transphobia, as well as a shit ton of transphobia from my family back home which caused me to panic. I ended up becoming really suicidal and made the decision to go hang out with a friend who was hanging with friends I had never met before, which triggered my next traumatic event. I ended up hanging with the wrong people, went down a drug path, was exposed to some very difficult and dangerous moments, felt a feeling of distress I have never felt nor would ever wish upon my worst enemy. I put it on myself as well, to help the friend I went in there with, get off a coke addiction. He went into psychosis and became violent at one point so I had to tell his mom everything and she sent him to rehab which worked but didn’t. He OD’d one night(survived) it was bad. I only ever went as far as psychedelics. But acid was my drug of choice. I was so done with everyone and everything that I just spent like 2-3 months straight, every day, tripping. I was 16 at the time. I also was exposed to the father of the household who had a weird thing for me, he tried sneaking into my bedroom one night when my bf wasn’t home (I ended up moving in with my at the time bf) but I was awake so he left real quick but it terrified me. All of this was such intense distress and I believe around this time was the second split, because it felt like for the entirety of me in that traumatic era, it was Blake and Bella fighting to host and take over. Bella was the host for the past 6 years. She took over around 2017, after like a year of fighting. I(Blake) tend to self destruct, even though I’m overprotective, trying to accept this about myself at the time was impossible because I was dealing with so much anger that was affecting the rest of the system. I also was done. Idk if alters “go to sleep” but Blake went away for a while. But what I’ve come to realize is I don’t think they’re ever went away, like lily has always been here, and I realized that the night of the intimate moment, because me having that panic attack after the intimate moment, and every panic attack prior, I believe that it’s lily. I haven’t touched that too much though because she is so to herself and shy and never comes out and she’s just traumatized, plus the amount of anger coming from Blake, and the amount of sadness coming from Bella, it’s all very overwhelming. But I do think it’s her, I don’t think she understands what’s happening but she like pokes her head out during it because maybe it’s so to with the sexual trauma we went through as a kid? I know something happened to me as a kid but I don’t know what. But I’m not ready for that yet, the anger is a more pressing issue.
Bella is very maternal, she took over and spent the past 6 years working her ass off to develop the coping mechanisms we need, and creating a safe space in our mind. The manic moments have been cushioned without us even knowing it’s manic moments; all she knew was we’re in distress so she found what helped best and worked real hard to keep us afloat. She got us out of the drugs, out of the abuse, out of the toxic relationship, out of anything that did not serve us. But not without giving up too much of herself and being beaten down. Like I know we’ve all gone through it but she took hit after hit after hit and everyone just used her as a projection batting cage. Within the past few months has been her stepping down. 5 months is us fighting, because she doesn’t want to, but she needs to, because she needs a break. And I need a break from the break. I need to deal with my anger and learn to live this world as a man. It’s been really hard to deal with, because I’ve cut off our hair which was a lot for Bella, and I’m trying to give her grace because it’s a huge change for everyone; but I’m so eager to be out. To my friends and family I’ve come out as gender fluid, a safe way for us to just be, even though gender fluid is still accurate to us, but me(Blake) I want to be on T, I want top surgery; the dysphoria has been very intense but I am not making any decisions while untreated in whatever this is. Bella doesn’t want any of that, but a hypothetical compromise that we’ve been thinking about is a breast reduction to start, to ease the mind.
Now when I look back at the past 11-12 years, I see all three of them out and about disguised as each other without realizing. There’s this one song I remember listening to on repeat non stop and idk why it just felt right it sounded right I loved it I needed to listen to it. Now, go listen to Satellites by Sleeping with sirens, think about alters waking up/trying to be known or whatever, like Jesus fuck it’s so obvious to me everything just makes sense (ik that sounds like a stretch but there’s more in my head that relates to that feeling I just can’t put it into words)
I’ve also been dealing with breaking down the walls of expectations. I have never allowed myself to be upset or have quarrels due to feeling like an inconvenience, I believe this has a lot to do with it as well.
Oh and the 4th potential alter is either someone just chillin in the background observing, or the “higher self” version of myself I was talking about. I really can’t tell.
I know there’s so much more I didn’t add but I’m deffo not doing the best rn so my brain can’t remember everything. Anyways, I’m not looking for a diagnosis obviously, but I just wanna hear what it sounds like. Because it feels like a personality disorder of some sort even tho idk wtf that’s supposed to feel like lol, so does it sound like one? I guess is what I’m really asking. Anyways, thanks for reading. Regardless of a response it is nice to get this off my chest aha. It also might be all over the place if so I apologize I think I’m currently manic? Yes I have been talking with my therapist about this, she’s not specialized in this stuff so she can only help so much, I’ve been tryna push my doctor to get me a psych referral to which he says there’s no psychiatrist in my area that are really taking any clients rn. He also sat there and told me I wasn’t dealing with mania and started listening of symptoms that I deal with that he had yet to even ask me about. I was already heated going in there because I knew I was going to have to fight for what I needed. Well the funny part is, the psychiatrist I went in there wanting a referral to; that I thought my therapist recommended me, was not an actual recommendation of a psychiatrist, but of a book of resources for me to look at, but I was manic and not there and I was literally so bent on needing help and needing a psych referral that my brain heard the authors name and was like “okay time to go to the doctor”. And then I had to admit to the doctors receptionist that I was indeed manic when I came in and that i didn’t know what I was talking about which was embarrassing and then I actually heard concern in her voice, rather than dismissal, which should’ve been comforting, but it just pissed me off lol. Anyways, sorry I’m done now lol 😂

I'm specifically looking for bits featuring Conner O'Malley, like those interpretive dances he's done (wish I could find the Sopranos one!), lesser-known Anniversary Guy entries or those Blacklist sketches he wrote and performed in alongside Amber, Lutz and Warheit.
I swear, finding full older episodes of any late night show seems just about impossible. I know the last two LNSM seasons are available on Peacock, and sometimes (only in a blue moon) I stumble across old clips on the NBC website that they haven't managed to take down, in addition to whatever they decided to keep up on YouTube. Even managed to track down scattered older episodes uploaded to the Internet Archive. But, still, there remain so many gaps.
Shot in the dark but—y'all got any leads on (ahem) other streaming options?

I've played elden ring, ds3, and dark souls but I've never played souls pvp so i tried it to see what it's like. Im pretty good at pve but I started pvp and got stomped immediately, it's like a completely different game. I changed my build and played it for a while and eventually I started getting better and learning how to counter people and roll catch, stop panic rolling, etc. I liked it cuz it let me experiment all the weapons/consumables I had that I never touched and didnt need to use during pve.
I started watching videos and reading stuff online about the different pvp tactics and stuff cuz i thought it was really interesting but eventually I noticed that the pvp community is really really toxic. It seemed like no matter what weapon/technique someone used in a pvp clip, they always had people talking shit about them and saying they suck. Poise armor, dual spears, poke swords, bloodhound step, crouch attack, magic, faith, spinning slash, moonveil, status proc, guts greatsword bows, katanas. I even saw people getting mad at LIGHTROLLING, literal normal game mechanic that has been used in all the souls games and punishes you by giving you no armopoise. I know the pvp in elden ring is bad and unbalanced and the damage is crazy and all that, but why do they get mad at the people using "op" weapons that help you counter the other "op" meta weapons you will inevitably meet. Its not even like a handful of weapons either its like half the weapons in the game are "if you use it you suck *point down*" to these people.
I quit because of this and even though I wasnt super insane at pvp and I only had like 40 hours, I was able to get better and learn how to counter magic spammers and dual spears and all these things people complain about. Like if they spam, literally just run up and kill them while theyre casting spell or use golden magic deflect shield. I noticed its kind of like pve where theres always a way to countedodge even the most powerful moves like waterfowl dance. Thats literally the point of the games; to "get good". Even super cracked pvp gods who 1v3 people in invasions complain about like "OH NO SPAMMING L2 GRR" like bruh just kill him. People who would beat me would literally message me hatemail for lightrolling or using star shower or something like dawg you literally won why are you mad. I dont understand why anyone would endure this. The community is so mean to everyone and instead of blaming elden ring for being unbalanced they get mad at the players. They refuse to take their own advice to "get good" (the phrase they use to gatekeep the series from "casuals") and learn to counter the 100000s of "op" moves/weapons, its like antithetical to the entire point of the souls genre and so hypocritical. Are any pvpers in here how do you guys deal with this/ignore it and have fun with the game? I want to like the pvp really bad but its so toxic. sorry if this is kinda ranty i just rly like the game and wish i could have fun witht the pvp