Nailed beams

The forest road was pitch black. Endless abyss of darkness only further deepened by no sounds, other than the heavy downpour. Trees on each side, leaning menacingly as if threatening to break free of their root and step onto the asphalt. What little light would there have been on a clear night, was now swallowed up by the stormy clouds above. There seemed to be no end in sigh to this rain.
Jessica stood on the side of the road, leaning on the rusted and bent metal railing, looking across to the other side. Her blond hair messy, her make up ruined, her olive green dress clinging to her body, soaked with water. Despite the disheveled look, the girl was there with a purpose. A simple goal, to be picked up by a passing driver as hitchhiker. Though that had proven a task more difficult that it seemed. The stretch of asphalt she was on, that cut through the woods, no longer was the busy road she remembered. A highway that was made not too far away, took the majority of traffic and people away from the winding roads.
But she did not mind, for the highway helped her. Like a sifter that separated regular sand from whatever larger chunk of rock one might find, the highway separated the mundane and tired people going between towns from the deviant and ill-intended people that still used the back roads. The wait may have been longer now, but that only increased the odds of finding her next potential victim.
Her patience paid off, as a pair of high beams appeared around a curve. The headlights seemed to be swallowed by the darkness of the forest, barely illuminating much. She moved from the railing and closer to the edge of the road, as the car pulled over in front of her.
The passenger side window rolled down some, and a voice of a man came from inside. "Everything alright hun? Need a ride?"
Without a word she reached for the handle. Unlocked, how typical. Her victims always gave themselves away with their eagerness. Their fake desire to help her only working against their attempts to mask their true intentions. She opened the door and sat inside the passenger side, before the car began moving once more.
"So, where to?" The driver asked.
The rhythmic squeaking of the windshield wipers masked her breathing. "Just on the other side of the woods. I'll let you know when to pull over."
Jessica glanced at the man. He was dressed nicely, most of them were. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos on both arms, that started at the wrist and disappeared up the sleeve. He had a few rings on, including a black ring on his ring finger. Not much of a surprise, some of them didn't even bother taking off their wedding rings. For when it came to the end result, it would not really matter anyways.
"For the next 300 meters, keep going straight." The GPS sounded off, breaking the silence for a brief moment.
"So, what are you doing all by yourself in this storm, in the middle of nowhere? That dress doesn't seem very waterproof." The driver smiled slightly, attempting small talk.
Jessica felt her guts churn, her insider burning with rage. But she chose to keep her silence, not wanting to ruin her plans. The man seemed to have picked up on the hint and kept on driving without another word.
"In the next 200 meters, turn left."
The rain was not letting up, the visibility still almost nonexistent. It felt to her as if the entire car was driven only by relying to the GPS.
"In the next 300 meters, turn left."
Another turn, now they were no longer on the main road that lead out of woods. The car was moving slowly, as the man kept following the GPS's advice, turning on narrower and narrower roads.
"You've missed my turn." Jessica said softly but sternly.
The man did not reply. He merely put the car in reverse, seemingly trying to get back to the main road.
"In the next 50 meters, turn right."
With a deep sigh, he turned off the GPS, before moving down another side road. Soon dirt and mud replaced the asphalt and the car seemed to struggle to move through it, only moving deeper between the trees. Jessica knew all there roads like they were hopscotch by now. She's been taken to each and every one of them, multiple times. She could remember every curve, every bend and bump, every oddly shaped tree on the side. Anger only seemed to bubble up inside her more, her hair standing on end at this point.
She's been there for years, waiting to get revenge on those who had confined her to these woods, to that very road, but they never showed up. So she's been taking care of others, men just like them, in hopes of saving other like herself from a gruesome fate she could not avoid.
The driver seemed frustrated too, driving like he was looking for something. Probably a spot where the rain would not be that much of a hindrance. Veins bulged on his neck and on the arm that was gripping the wheel, his knuckle turning almost white from how hard we was squeezing it. He did not speak, deep exhales giving away all she needed to know.
Her hair began to stand up on its own, her nail elongating, her skin turning pale and her eyes losing their youthful glow. "You've. Missed. My. TURN." She said once more, unfastening the seatbelt, her voice sounding like a growl.
The man turned towards her, locking eyes with her. His expression took her by surprise. Sheer annoyance and frustration. "Bitch I KNOW." He said, pronouncing it quickly, in one breath, while pointing his right hand at her, as the car stopped.
The lights in the car, the GPS and radio, even the wipers and headlights began to flicker and crackle. Jessica was still stunned, but her determination did not waver so easily.
"You think I live in Bummfuck Calamazoo, in the middle of the woods? Do I look like Tarzan? I missed my turn too, obviously we're fucking lost." He continued, before pressing his palms together and against his face, before inhaling deeply.
"Huh, what?" Jessica mumbled, fully confused at this point at his lack of proper reaction, her hair falling back down on her shoulders again.
"In 150 meters tu-"
"SHUTUP!" He smacked the GPS, turning it off again, before mumbling a few more cuss words at the device and taking another calming inhale.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I know how this might look, being picked up off the side of a lonely road at night by a stranger. Every woman's nightmare. I'm not taking any turns with nefarious intent, I just can't see shit and the GPS is making me drive in circles. I've been driving for half a fucking hour and I can't seem to find the exit. Having to rely only on the GPS cuz I can't see a fingers worth of distance in front of the car, ain't helping neither." Finally he leaned in his seat, running his hands across his head, before pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. He put on in his mouth, offering her too without a word.
She nodded and pulled out a cigarette from the crumpled box, as the cars electronics slowly stopped going haywire.
"So, how long?" The driver asked, lighting her smoke and then his, drawing a long inhale.
"What?" She asked, somewhat relaxing in her seat as the confusion began to die down.
"How long you've been dead?" He said, still looking at the roof of the car, listening to nothing but the drumming of rain against the exterior.
Jessica was stunned, caught of guard entirely. The whole situation seemed surreal. Her victims screamed, prayed, tried to fight back, tried to run, but never this. A part of her wanted to open the door and run out into the night herself, back to the side of the road where he had picked her up. The man did not repeat the question, but the silence told her he was waiting on an answer.
"About..." She paused. "20 years, I think. Hard to keep track."
"Hmmmm, I see. They found you yet?" He continued, the calmness of his voice, like asking a kid what they've done in school, made her uneasy. The fact that she knew what each question meant exactly didn't help either.
"No. Wait, how do you know? Who the hell are you?" The ghost finally regained enough composure to ask.
"Sugar, I've been around the spooky block more than once. Who I am?" He paused, rubbing his beard as if thinking if he should answer or not. "Doesn't matter."
"So, what now? I mean, sorry, this is uncharted waters for me. Do I go back to the road side? Do you exorcise me? Do we sit here and smoke?" She sighed, giving up on the idea of trying to make sense of the situation.
"Now I call triple A and get someone to tow us out this mud and back on the main road. Then, if you do not mind, you show me where your remains are. So I can do you right by this world, at least." He pulled out his phone, before looking at with a sour frown. "Of course no fucking signal here."
"Oh, that's me. Sorry." She reached over, something she had not done in over 20 years, and gently tapped the phone, making the device work properly again.
The driver wiggled the phone as if saying "thanks", before sending his location to the tow company.
"We gotta wait for the rain to stop or at least die down before they can send anyone here." He said, putting on his coat and opening the driver side door. "So how about a little nightly stroll ay? Show me where they left you."
Without waiting for confirmation, he walked over to her side of the car and opened the door, while holding an umbrella. "Here, you've been rained on enough."
Jessica got our of the car, stepping under the umbrella, feeling an odd sense of warmth inside. She's never been this close to a man, since that horrid day, without tearing them apart in fury. The two made their way deeper into the woods, the man letting her lead the way. All she could think of was that perhaps now, her rage will finally see its end.
[]
Rattle of the keys woke up Boogie and Woogie, as they ran over to the front door barking and snorting.
"Hey boys, you've been good?" Miles said, walking in after trying to wipe his muddy shoes on the doormat with little success.
He bent down to pet his two dogs, before taking off his wet coat, as well as the remainer of his muddy and rain soaked clothes, leaving them as a pile on the floor for the bulldogs to sniff on for a bit, while he went and poured himself a drink.
"What a night." The naked man mumbled, sitting down on his couch and checking his automated answering machine.
"You have... 7... missed calls from.... Detective Anthony."
"Uuggghhh fuck." Miles groaned, getting up and walking over to his discarded pile of wet clothes and rummaging through it until he pulled out his cell phone.
Walking back to the couch with a glass of booze in hand, he kept the phone pressed against his left ear. It didn't take more than 4 buzzes before someone on the other side picked up.
"Heey, Ant-man. What's up?" Miles grinned, addressing the man on the line.
"Don't call me that." Said the tired voice. "Where have you been? I've been calling you all evening."
"Oh you know. Ran into a girl. You know the drill." The naked man replied.
"I see. She found?" Anthony asked.
"She is now. I'm sending you the location right now."
"Good. I'll send someone from the department there tomorrow."
"That can't be the only reason you called me 7 times." Miles continued.
"Right. Listen, we've got a case down in Waco. I could really use your... expertise on the matter." The Detective said.
"Now, what skills could the homicide department need from a horror novel author?" Miles cackled a bit, taking a sip and finishing with an exaggerated lip smack and exhale.
"Cut the bullshit Miles, it's way too late for this. You want to help, or do I gotta find another nutcase that can talk to corpses?" Anthony replied, his tone of voice going from tired to annoyed.
"Okay okay, don't get your badge stuck between your ass cheeks Detective. I'll be at your office tomorrow, as soon as my car get cleaned." The writer said before handing up the call and tossing his phone on the nearby cushion. He finished his drink, sighed and leaned against the couch, looking up the ceiling, the events of tonight still fresh in his mind.
(Hi y'all. This one is a bit less aliens and super powers and a big more idk. HorroThriller? I'm not sure. I mean, as long as humans are at the forefront, I think it does not violate any rules on here.
Decided to write something different, while cooking up part 6 for Sand & Steel, that should drop tomorrow, if my schedule allows it.
I hope you guys like it, let me know your feedback in the comments. Have a wonderful evening.)

Hi y'all,
I am trying to determine (for a school project) if this adjustable post will be able to resist 400 kN. Though I don't understand how I'm supposed to see if the post can withstand the force without knowing the load table's unit of measurement.
https://preview.redd.it/22oqd3a0mm1d1.png?width=811&format=png&auto=webp&s=a838783bbfc2272baf6d6ee1c1caad0303c2f275
https://preview.redd.it/kh26zqh3mm1d1.png?width=1111&format=png&auto=webp&s=1195b662c6ccad0935274bb1a5deb6eacfef34f0

Am i a shack basking in the sunlight? It's skin craving the first and last radiant bite? It's inner extremities insulted in plastic tight Like a stomach has mucus to help its fight Against its own insatiable hunger's strike.
A shacks shiny appetites Puts up the fiercest of fights A shack savages the sun's might Connected to darkness illuminating it's only sights but my energy knows these nights Blindly focused on the burning spot lights.
A shiny shacks appetites Can devour new heights My spine a twisted tortured frame Curved In a way that's inhumane My voice a whisper a mournful claim. Echoing in a claustrophobic septic brain My lungs its window's reflecting flame
My head its roof some tiles hold weight My skin its room is an empty plastic plate My mouth a doorway for an acidic fate My skeleton is its support beams cracking as of late My ribs its strong unmovable gate
My heart its furnace Burning from pains. My soul its emptiness a void that remains. My nails its dirty ravenous rusty hold My soles its floor packed and cold
A shack feeding off the sun's light Connected to its darkness It's only sight Am i a shack basking in the sunlight?

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

LATHANDER
The Morninglord, Commander of Creativity, Patron to Spring and Eternal Youth, Mentor of Self-Perfection, Bringer of the Dawn, Lord of Birth and Renewal
Greater Power of Elysium
Symbol Sunrise made of pink, red, and yellow gems, or a simple rosy pink disk
Realm Morninglory (Elysium/Eronia)
Alignment Neutral Good
Aliases none
Superior none (AO)
Allies Chauntea (lover), Deneir, Eldath, Gond, Ilmater, Kelemvor, Llira, Lurue, Mielikki, Milil, Oghma, Paladine, Selune, Siamorphe, Silvanus, Sune, Torm, Tyche (dead), Tymora, Tyr, Ushas
Foes Bane, Beshaba, Bhaal (dead), Cyric, Ibrandul (dead), Iyachtu Xvim (dead), Loviatar, Moander (dead), Myrkul (dead), Shar, Talona
Servants none
Servitor Creatures butterflies, celestials of all types, elysian dragons, hollyphants, radiant creatures, robins (normal and celestial), sanctified creatures, sun peacocks (normal and celestial), sunwyrms (good aligned only)
Manifestations an intense and rosy radiance that appears around objects to indicate special qualities or at confusing or dangerous junctures to indicate a safe or preferred path, and that causes those people it surrounds to be telekinetically pushed out of harmful situations, healed of all wounds, purged of any diseases, poisons, foreign objects, magical and nonmagical afflictions and deleterious effects, magical or psionic compulsions, fear, and curses, causes resurrection effects to be automatically successful, and transmits messages
Signs of Favor aster blossoms, an intense and rosy radiance with the same qualities as his manifestation, sun peacock feathers
Worshipers Aristocrats, artists, athletes, farmers, hunters of the undead, merchants, monks of the Sun Soul, peasants, performers, the youthful
Cleric Alignments LG, NG, CG
Specialty Priests Morninglord
Holy Days Midsummer morning, the mornings of the vernal and autumnal equinoxes
Important Ceremonies Song of Dawn; contracts, marriages and promises made at dawn, funerals for those not meant to be raised or resurrected
Portfolio Athletics, birth, creativity, dawn, renewal, self-perfection, spring, vitality, youth
Domains Community, Courage, Endurance, Good, Glory, Hope, Life, Protection, Radiance, Renewal, Strength, Zeal
Favored Weapon Dawnspeaker (heavy or light mace)

LATHANDER
Male Sentinel 20, Cleric 20, Morninglord 20, Master of Radiance 5
NG Medium Outsider (Extraplanar, Good)
Divine Rank 17
Init 44 (+16 Dex, +8 Superior Initiative); Senses 17-mile-radius; Listen 77, Spot 77; remote sensing (20 locations), portfolio sense
Aura divine aura (DC 78), courage (100 ft, +8 saves against fear), radiant 3/day; Languages can communicate with any living creature; Words of Creation
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AC 105, touch 57, flat-footed 95, undead 107 (+18 armor, +20 deflection, +10 Dex, +17 divine, +30 natural)
hp 1,860 (20d10 + 45d8 plus 1300), fast healing 74; divine shield 23/day (170 hp); renewal 1/day (if fall below 0 but less than -10 hit points regain 1d8 +20 hp); DR 40/epic, evil and adamantine
Immune ability damage, ability drain, banishment, death effects, disease, disintegration, electricity, energy drain, fire, imprisonment, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, rebuking, sleep, sonic, stunning, transmutation, and turning
Resist acid 37, cold 37; SR 81
Fort 111 Ref 101 Will 105; +2 against evil outsiders and undead, +4 against mind-affecting effects from evil outsiders, +5 against evil spells or spells from evil characters
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Speed 60 ft. (12 squares)
Melee dawnspeaker 115/110/105/100 (55 plus 18 fire plus 18 holy plus 1 negative level vs evil plus 48 vs evil outsiders and undead plus undead disruption [Fort DC 79 or die]/19-20/x2 plus 36 fire plus 36 holy plus 2 negative levels vs good plus death [Fort DC 79, evil outsiders and undead] plus undead disruption [Fort DC 79 or die]), +8 atk vs evil outsiders and undead; or
Melee spell 80 or
Ranged spell 76
Base Atk +43; Grp +63
Atk Options Awesome Smite, Cleave, Holy Potency, Power Attack; smite evil 24/day (+20 atk, +455 damage)
Special Actions alter reality, divine blast (444 damage) 23/day, feat of endurance 1/day (+30 Con for 1 minute), destroy evil outsiders and undead 27/day as a 66^th level cleric (turning check 73, turning damage 105; Heighten Turning, Intensify Turning, Multiturning, Quicken Turning), protective ward 1/day (+65 resistance bonus to one saving throw for one hour), surge of hope 1/day (when failing a skill check, attack roll, or saving throw, add 1d6 to the result), touch of life 1/day (1d6 +65 temporary hp to a single creature for one hours), zeal 1/day (take 20 on a skill check, except on checks are not normally allowed to take 20, without increasing the amount of time needed to make the check); Battle Blessing, Corona (Will DC 62), Divine Censure (Will DC 62), Epic Divine Might, Epic Divine Vengeance, Sacred Vengeance
Combat Gear dawnspeaker
Divine Spell-like Abilities (CL 65^th; +1 good spells; all [fire] and [light] spells are intensified)
At will – aid, animate objects, animate plants, antimagic field, atonement, bear’s endurance, bigby’s clenched fist, bigby’s crushing hand, bigby’s grasping hand, blade barrier (DC 53), bless, bless weapon, bolt of glory, bull’s strength, charm person (DC 48), cloak of bravery, color spray (DC 48), commune, consecrate, crown of glory (DC 55), death ward, dismissal (DC 51), dispel evil (DC 52), disrupt undead, disrupting weapon (DC 52), endure elements, enlarge person, widened faerie fire, flame strike (DC 52), fire shield, fire seeds (DC 53), freedom, gate, globe of invulnerability, good hope, greater cloak of bravery, greater dispel magic, greater heroism, greater planar ally, greater restoration, greater status, greater teleport, heat metal (DC 49), helping hand, heroes’ feast, heroism, hide from undead (DC 48), holy aura (DC 55), holy smite (DC 51), holy sword, holy word (DC 54), hypnotic pattern (DC 49), iron body, lesser restoration, lion’s roar (DC 56), magic vestment, mass bear’s endurance, mass heal (DC 56), mind blank, mordenkainen’s magnificent mansion, plant growth, plane shift (DC 52), polymorph any object (DC 55), prayer, prismatic sphere (DC 56), prismatic spray (DC 54), prismatic wall (DC 56), protection from energy, protection from evil, rary’s telepathic bond, rainbow, rainbow pattern (DC 51), refreshment, refuge, regenerate, reincarnate (DC 51), remove disease, remove fear, repulsion (DC 54), righteous might, sanctuary (DC 48), scintillating pattern, searing light, sustain, spell immunity, spell resistance, status, stoneskin, sympathy (DC 55), summon monster IX (good creatures only), sunbeam (DC 54), sunburst (DC 55), tongues.
1/day – calm emotions (DC 51)
Master of Radiance Spell-like Abilities (CL 56^th; +1 good spells; all [fire] and [light] spells are intensified; only usable during aura of radiance)
1/round – beam of sunlight, searing light
Morninglord Spell-like Abilities (CL 54^th; +1 good spells; all [fire] and [light] spells are intensified)
1/day – daylight, searing ray (as searing light, but automatically empowered against undead)
Cleric Spells per Day (CL 54^th; +1 good spells; all spells are energized and maximized; all [fire] and [light] spells are intensified)
20^th (3+1/day) – heightened intensified end to strife (DC 63) (x2), heightened last judgement (DC 70), enhanced heightened intensified mass heal (DC 59) (D).
19^th (3+1/day) – heightened miracle (DC 69) (x2), consecrated intensified purified sacred storm of vengeance (DC 59), enhanced empowered heightened sunburst (DC 63) (D).
18^th (3+1/day) – consecrated enhanced heightened purified flame strike (DC 62) (x2) (D), intensified quickened righteous smite (DC 57), enhanced intensified righteous smite (DC 57).
17^th (3+1/day) – heightened holy word (DC 67) (D), heightened know true name (DC 67), empowered intensified lion’s roar (DC 58), heightened quickened miracle (DC 63).
16^th (4+1/day) – intensified mass heal (DC 59), intensified righteous exile (DC 59) (x2), intensified storm of vengeance (DC 59), enhanced quickened sunburst (DC 58) (D).
15^th (4+1/day) – empowered intensified blade barrier (DC 56) (D), enhanced quickened searing erupt (DC 59) (x2), intensified mass cure critical wounds, heightened righteous glare (DC 65).
14^th (4+1/day) – enhanced fire-substituted fiery searing lion’s roar (DC 58) (D), heightened quickened holy word (DC 60) (x2), empowered quickened sunburst (DC 58) (x2).
13^th (4+1/day) – enhanced quickened flame strike (DC 55) (D), quickened implosion (DC 59) (x2), quickened sublime revelry, intensified weight of sin (DC 56).
12^th (5+1/day) – empowered enhanced blade barrier (DC 56) (D), empowered enhanced cometfall (DC 56), intensified divine retribution (DC 55), consecrated purified sacred firestorm (DC 58) (x2), quickened visions of the future.
11^th (5+1/day) – quickened amber sarcophagus, consecrated purified quickened cometfall (DC 56), sacred searing erupt (DC 59), quickened greater shield of lathander, quickened light of purity, quickened sunbeam (DC 57) (D).
10^th (5+1/day) – quickened crown of brilliance, consecrated fire-substituted searing earthquake (DC 58), quickened heal (DC 56) (D), empowered fire-substituted stormrage.
9^th (7+1/day) – heightened eternal rest (DC 56), quickened flame strike (DC 55), feast of champions, gate, mantle of the fiery spirit, prismatic sphere (DC 59) (D), summon elemental monolith, undeath’s eternal foe.
8^th (8+1/day) – chain dispel, holy aura (DC 58) (D), illusion purge, know true name (DC 58), mass restoration, mass valiant spirit, spread of contentment (DC 58), shun the dark chaos (DC 58), consecrated purified wages of sin.
7^th (8+1/day) – bastion of good, control weather, fortunate fate, quickened light of Venya (DC 53), rain of embers (DC 57), radiant assault (x2) (DC 57), rejuvenating light (DC 57), sunbeam (DC 57) (D).
6^th(8+1/day) – chasing perfection, consecrate battlefield, quickened deific vengeance (DC 52), heal (DC 56) (D), fiery vision (x2), ghost trap, light of courage (DC 56), vigorous circle.
5^th (9+1/day) – atonement, blistering radiance (DC 55), chaav’s laugh (DC 55), condemnation (DC 55), crown of flame, divine agility, divine retribution (DC 55), searing meteoric strike (DC 54) (x2), valiant fury (D).
4^th (10+1/day) – aligned aura (DC 54), assay spell resistance (x2), aura of the sun (x2), channeled divine health, cure critical wounds, holy smite (DC 54) (D), recitation, sacred haven, sunmantle.
3^rd (10+1/day) – cure serious wounds, fell the greatest foe, find the gap, flamebound symbol (x2), forced manifestation (DC 53), heart’s ease, mass align weapon, phieran’s resolve, prayer (D), protection from negative energy.
2^nd (10+1/day) – detect aberration, eagle’s splendor, healing lorecall, make whole, mark of doom (x2), mark of judgment (x2) (DC 52), master’s touch, share talents, shield other (D).
1^st (10+1/day) – bless water, conviction, detect taint, divine favor, endure elements (D), exorcism (x2) (DC 51), nimbus of light, ray of hope, ray of resurgence, vision of heaven (DC 51).
Orisons (6/day) – create water, cure minor wounds, guidance, light, purify food and drink, read magic.
Epic Spells Prepared 6 divine, up to Spellcraft DC 122
Epic Spells Known epic mage armor, epic repulsion, epic spell reflection, global warming, glorious light of renewal, greater ruin, hellball, nailed to the sky, nimbus, rain of fire, ruin, superb dispelling. Lathander has additionally created many epic spells that bring light and life, as well as bring ruin to the undead.
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Abilities Str 50, Dex 42, Con 50, Int 36, Wis 51, Cha 50
SQ avatar, bane of the restless, celestial fortitude, celestial minion 1/day, creative fire +20, divine grace, divinity, immortality, lathander’s light, resist fiendish lure
Feats Awesome Smite, Battle Blessing, Cleave, Consecrate Spell, Corona (Will DC 62), Divine Censure (Will DC 62), Divine Might, Divine Vengeance, Empower Spell, Energize Spell, Energy Substitution (fire), Extra Turning, Fiery Spell, Heighten Spell, Heighten Turning, Holy Potency, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Improved Turning, Maximize Spell (B), Power Attack, Purify Spell, Quicken Spell, Quicken Turning, Sacred Vengeance, Sanctify Martial Strike, Searing Spell, Weapon Focus (heavy mace), Words of Creation (B)
Epic Feats Enhance Spell, Epic Divine Might, Epic Divine Vengeance, Epic Spellcasting (B), Great Smiting (x2), Improved Heighten Spell, Intensify Spell, Intensify Turning, Multiturning, Positive Energy Aura, Superior Initiative
Salient Divine Abilities Area Divine Shield (170 hp in a 170 ft square or a 17 ft sphere or hemisphere), Automatic Metamagic (energize spell), Banestrike (evil outsiders), Banestrike (undead), Call Creatures (17 celestials with up to 37 HD), Divine Inspiration (hope), Divine Fast Healing (x2), Divine Paladin, Divine Spellcasting, Divine Weapon Focus (heavy mace), Divine Weapon Specialization (heavy mace), Earthmother’s Boon (unique salient divine ability), Energy Burst (170 ft, 136 fire damage), Energy Storm (170 ft, 17 holy and 17 positive), Gift of Life, Indomitable Strength, Life and Death (Fort DC 79 or die, 340 damage on a successful save), Lord of the Dawn (unique salient divine ability), Mass Life and Death (any number of creatures no more than 17 miles apart, Fort DC 79 or die, 340 damage on a successful save), Power of Nature, Rejuvenation (-17, -34 in Morninglory), Undead Mastery (17 creatures)
Skills Appraise 70 (78 paintings and sculptures), Bluff 82, Concentration 125, Craft (painting) 138, Craft (sculpting) 138, Diplomacy 143, Gather Information 72, Heal 125, Jump 84, Intimidate 86, Knowledge (arcana) 80, Knowledge (history) 92, Knowledge (nobility and royalty) 118, Knowledge (religion) 118, Knowledge (the planes) 118, Listen 77, Perform 145, Ride 62, Search 75, Sense Motive 82, Spot 77, Spellcraft 122, Survival 67 (75 extraplanar), Swim 82, Tumble 67
Possessions +8 full plate of the celestial battalion, dawnspeaker

Aura of Radiance (Su) The light of Lathander shines perpetually. No matter how dark it is, the Morninglord sees as though the conditions were identical to the outdoors at sunrise. This ability functions like darkvision out to 60 feet, except that he sees in color. Lathander also has a +2 sacred bonus on saving throws against spells with the darkness descriptor and a +2 sacred bonus to Armor Class against attacks from undead creatures.
Beam of Sunlight (Sp) Lathander can evoke a dazzling beam of intense light (the equivalent of a beam from the sunbeam spell) once per round as a full-round action as long as his radiant aura is active as a 56^th level caster.
Blessing of Dawn (Su) The sight of the morning sun is an inspirational vision for the Morninglord. Lathander gains a +2 morale bonus on Will saves from sunrise until noon. This ability is in effect only while he can see the sun; the effect is suppressed any time he is deprived of the sight of it during this period.
Celestial Fortitude (Su) Lathander’s endurance and fortitude are enhanced against fiendish attacks. He has a +2 sacred bonus to all Fortitude saving throws against effects from evil outsiders and evil spells. Additionally, if he makes a successful Fortitude saving throw against an effect from an evil spell or evil outsider that normally deals half damage or partial effects on a successful save, he instead takes no damage and suffers no partial effects.
Celestial Minion (Sp) Lathander may summon a Medium or smaller size celestial animal (with the celestial creature template) as a standard action usable once a day. This celestial minion carries the same responsibilities as a paladin's special mount and gains the same bonuses to its HD, natural armor, Strength, Intelligence, and other special abilities that a paladin's special mount has, but only remains for 20 hours before returning to the outer plane from whence it came.
Creative Fire (Ex) The Morninglord is a creative, expressive deity. He has a bonus equal to his morninglord level on all Craft and Perform checks.
Divinity Lathander is an embodiment of ancient divine power. As such, reality is his to shape as he sees fit.
Alter Reality: Lathander may alter reality within the bounds of his portfolio. This functions as a wish spell that requires no XP or material cost. The limits of this ability are fully described in Deities and Demigods. He can additionally alter his size from Fine to Colossal and may additionally alter up to 100 pounds of objects in the same manner.
Avatar: Lathander can have up to 20 avatars at any given time. The Morninglord appears as a golden-skinned athletic male of exceeding beauty who has just fully entered early manhood. He wears noble robes constructed in the colors of the dawn, carries himself proudly, and dresses in the finest golden plate armor if attending to matters that might turn violent.
Divine Blast: Lathander can create a ray of divine power that extends for up to 17 miles, dealing up to 444 points of damage, as a ranged touch attack with no saving throw. Lathander can unleash a divine blast 23 times per day, and alter the visual, auditory and sensation-based qualities of his divine blast as he desires. Lathander’s divine blasts generally take the form of rays of fiery sunlight.
Divine Shield: As a free action 23 times per day, Lathander can create a shield that lasts 10 minutes and stops 170 points of damage from attacks. Once the shield stops that much damage, it collapses. Any damage Lathander is naturally immune to does not count towards the shield’s limits.
Earthmother’s Boon (unique salient divine ability) Chauntea is Lathander’s lover and has bestowed a degree of protection over her consort. By her grace, the Lord of the Dawn cannot be harmed by any nonmagical plant or any creature with less than 33 Hit Dice with the plant subtype. Epic creatures and creatures with equal or more than 33 Hit Dice must succeed at a Will save (DC 79) to harm the Morninglord.
Greater Turning (Su) Six times per day, Lathander may use greater turning as the granted power of the Sun domain. This is superseded by his Lord of the Dawn salient divine ability.
Lathander's Light (Su) Whenever Lathander casts a spell with the light descriptor, its area is doubled.
Lord of the Dawn (unique salient divine ability) Lathander is the sun. He is the light that drives back the darkness, the brilliant spark that lights the way out of night and the creative brilliance within every artist. His dominion over light and the sun, both physical and metaphysical, grants him a variety of powers as listed below:
Fires of the Sun: The light of the sun shields Lathander’s body. This protection renders Lathander immune to all forms of magical and nonmagical fire, with searing effects only dealing half damage. In addition, spells and spell-like abilities cast by Lathander from the Sun domain, or with the [fire] and [light] descriptors, are similarly enhanced and are always intensified.
Radiance of the Dawn: Lathander can shed light equal to full sunlight in a 17-mile emanation from his body that counters and dispels all Darkness effects unless created by a higher ranked deity. Undead and evil outsiders caught within the radius must succeed at a Fortitude save (DC 79) or be destroyed and turned into dust. Creatures vulnerable to sunlight suffer a -17 penalty to the saving throw. A successful saving throw still deals 17d8 points of damage, while creatures vulnerable to sunlight suffer 17d12 points of damage.
Spark of Creativity: Lathander is the commander of creativity, the inspiration and muse for craftsmen and artists throughout the Realms. 17 times per day, Lathander may bestow a +17 divine bonus to any Craft or Performance check, or the Efficient Item Creation feat, to up to 17 creatures for the next 24 hours. Performances and non-magical items crafted beneath the aegis of this ability always earn three times the normal gold amount and have three times the listed market price in cost. Magical items crafted with the benefit of this ability add +17,000 gp to the listed market price and increase any numeric benefit (enhancement bonuses for the purpose of attack and damage rolls, armor and save bonuses and so forth) by +4.
Spurn the Profane: Lathander uses the totality of his character level to determine the effectiveness of his ability to smite evil, turn outsiders and undead as well as any of his feats that affect the undead. His turn attempts resolve as greater turnings (as the granted power of the Sun domain). In addition, Lathander adds his paladin spells to his clerical spell list, using the sum of both lists to determine his caster level.
Wrath of the Dawn: As a standard action Lathander can generate a ray of scorching light that extends for up to 17 miles and inflicts 17d6 points of damage, half fire and half divine. As a full attack option, he can generate up to four rays, and undead and evil outsiders suffer 17d12 points of damage. In addition, Lathander can duplicate the effects of any spell with the [light] descriptor as a standard action. (CL 65^th, DC 50 plus spell level).
Maximize Turning (Su) Once per day, Lathander can automatically achieve the maximum possible result on a turning damage roll. This is superseded by his natural divine powers.
Radiant Aura (Su) Three times per day, Lathander can emanate an aura of brilliant light that weakens undead creatures for one minute. The aura provides bright illumination in a 30-foot radius around him, and shadowy illumination for an additional 30 feet beyond that. Creatures that take penalties in bright light also take them while within the radius of the bright aura. In addition, undead creatures within the radius of bright light take a —2 penalty on attack rolls, damage rolls, and saving throws. Activating the radiant aura is a free action that does not provoke attacks of opportunity. While his radiant aura is active, Lathander casts spells with the light descriptor at +2 caster level. The radiant aura is the equivalent of a 5th-level spell with the light descriptor for the purpose of interacting with spells and effects with the darkness descriptor.
Rejuvenation of the Morn (Su) Dawn is a powerful symbol of rebirth and renewal. Once per tenday, Lathander may spend one uninterrupted hour before dawn in prayer. As soon as the sun rises after this prayer ritual, he gains one benefit of his choice from the following list.
· Healing up to full normal hit points (self only).
· Removal of any poisons or diseases (self only). This effect does not restore ability damage or ability drain caused by poison or disease.
· Full restoration of ability damage due to one poison or disease.
If his prayers are interrupted for even a single round, the attempt is ruined, and he must wait a full tenday to try again.
Resist Fiendish Lure (Su) Lathander has a +4 sacred bonus to all saving throws against mind-affecting attacks of evil outsiders.
Possessions
Dawnspeaker, Lathander’s gold-and-ivory mace, is a +10 fiery blast ghost strike mighty disruption heavy mace of holy power and evil outsider and undead dread. When held by the Morninglord, it also functions as a holy devastator. The DC of the weapon’s disruption and dread abilities is 79, and creatures vulnerable to sunlight suffer a -17 penalty to saving throws made to resist Dawnspeaker’s abilities. Lathander is known to loan out Dawnspeaker to questors and warriors he deems worthy and can call it back to his hand from anywhere in the cosmos.
The Morninglord also occasionally wears a set of golden +8 full plate with the powers of an armor of the celestial battalion. The bonuses are not reflected in the above statistics.
Other Divine Powers As a greater deity, Lathander automatically receives the best possible result on any die roll he makes (including attack rolls, damage, checks, and saves). He treats a 1 on an attack roll or saving throw normally and not as an automatic failure. He is immortal. Senses Lathander can see (using normal vision or darkvision), hear, touch, and smell at a distance of 17 miles. As a standard action, he can perceive anything within 17 miles of his worshippers, holy sites, objects, or any location where one of his titles or name was spoken in the last hour. He can extend his senses to up to 20 locations at once. He can block the sensing power of deities of his rank or lower at up to two remote locations at once for 17 hours. Portfolio Sense Lathander is aware of any event under the light of the sun, competition or act of artistry of the number of people involved up to 17 weeks in the past and 17 weeks in the future. Automatic Actions Lathander can use any skill related to his portfolio as a free action if the DC for the task is 30 or lower. He can perform up to twenty such free actions each round. Create Magic Items Lathander can craft any magical item that associated with heat and light, aids in self-empowerment, preserves or restores vitality or harms the undead, including artifacts.
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Eternal Rest [Ravenloft: Legacy of Blood 71]
Necromancy
Level: Cleric 6
Components: V, S, DF
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Effect: Ray (see text)
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Will partial (see text)
Spell Resistance: Yes
This spell creates a ray of golden light that destroys one undead creature’s material body (if it has one), causing it to crumble to dust, which is then wafted away in a swirling breeze. This spell affects incorporeal undead without the usual incorporeal miss chance, and such a creature merely winks out of existence if it fails its save. If the target makes a successful save, it still takes 6d6 points of damage. If the creature has a special quality that allows it to return after destruction (such as a vampire’s fast healing power or a ghost’s rejuvenation power), the creature gains a bonus equal to its Charisma modifier on its saving throw. If such a creature fails its saving throw against this spell, it must make a successful Will save at the same DC (also with its Charisma modifier as a bonus) to return. If the creature’s method of return normally requires a saving throw (as a ghost’s rejuvenation power does), the creature must first make that saving throw, then make the Will saving throw against this spell.
You can improve your chance of success by presenting at least one object or substance that the target hates, fears, or otherwise finds repulsive or painful (such as a mirror and bud of garlic for a vampire). For each such object or substance, you gain a +1 bonus on your caster level check to overcome the target’s spell resistance (if any), and the spell’s saving throw DC increases by +1. A particular creature’s history might suggest additional objects or substances that would make the spell more effective.
This spell can also be cast when an undead creature has been physically destroyed and its remains are not present. In this case, the spell must be aimed at the spot where the creature was destroyed, and it must be used within 1 minute of the undead creature’s destruction. No attack roll is required for this use of the spell.
This spell can destroy an undead darklord’s physical form, but it cannot prevent the darklord from returning.
Rainbow [Dragon Magazine 321 68]
Conjuration (Creation)
Level: Cleric 6, Radiance 6
Components: V, S, DF
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Effect: Rainbow bow, quiver, and arrows
Duration: 1 hour / level
Saving Throw: No
Spell Resistance: Yes
A rainbow-hued longbow appears in your hand, along with a full quiver of arrows fletched with different colors. The longbow is considered a +1 longbow that the caster is proficient with. The quiver holds an endless supply of seven different colored arrows, each being made of a different material and having the following effects:
Red: +1 elemental-bane adamantine arrows.
Orange: +1 construct-bane silver arrows.
Yellow: +1 plant-bane evil-aligned arrows.
Green: +1 magical beast-bane good-aligned arrows.
Blue: +1 undead-bane lawful-aligned arrows.
Indigo: +1 aberration-bane chaotic-aligned arrows.
Violet: +1 dragon-bane cold iron arrows.
Only the caster is able to use the bow, quiver, and arrows. They appear immediately back in the caster’s possession if dropped or given away, though the caster may drop the bow and quiver to use another item, but can rematerialize them at will, as a free action. The bow, quiver, and arrows have no weight and cannot be disarmed or sundered.
Know True Name [Kalamar: Player’s Guide 3.0 177]
Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]
Level: Cleric 8
Components: V, S, DF
Casting Time: 1 action
Ranged: Close (25 ft. + 5 ft. / 2 levels)
Target: One fiend
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
You force a fiend to tell you its true name. Once you know a fiend’s true name, all spells that you cast at that creature have their save DCs increase by +4. You also gain a +4 on all checks to penetrate the creature’s spell resistance.

Hello! I am seeking some input on a quote I just received for a foundation repair. If more information is needed, I'd be happy to provide more details. Also, please let me know if I should be asking this elsewhere.
I recently called a foundation repair company to look at my foundation as I had some cosmetic issues that led me to believe there may be problems with the foundation. The cosmetic issues were cracks in the walls above door frames, above and below windows, and nails popping out of the drywall.
They sent someone out to take a look and they ended up finding and pointing out stair step cracks in the concrete blocking. They used a laser level to take measurements of the entire lower level that revealed a high point on the north side of the structure and a gradual lowering as we moved toward the south side. The steel beam that runs down the middle of the structure had no difference in height along the beam.
After all is said and done, they quote me $20k to install 9 piers along the south side to support the foundation and stop the sinking. He suggested that the piers would have to go 50-60 feet deep in my area in order to reach a level of support (bedrock?) I'm unsure if this is a fair quote. I am planning to get another company or two to take a look and see if they suggest the same type of solution and what they might charge.
They also found that the north side may have some slight sinking due to the shift of the load bearing. They quoted an additional $11k to install 6 more piers on the north side. They suggested that the north side was not as serious and that the sinking could be halted or dramatically slowed once the south side was supported.
Any insight on whether this method of correcting the issue is right and if the quote is reasonable for this type of solution?

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

I’m building a deck that is low to the ground. I’m having trouble figuring out how to support the beam that is only a few inches above the concrete piers.
I tried using the Simpson strong tie post beam and post cap, but it looks awfully silly with 6×6 posts that are only 1-1/2” to 2” in height. There isn’t enough wood to properly nail and secure the brackets to the wood. And the wood easily splits.
I can’t seem to find another solution. The adjustable brackets I found that would connect from the concrete directly to beam don’t seem to support the beam width of 4-1/2” (consists of three 2×10).
If I were to go back I would have tried to regrade the area to give me a few more inches. And I don’t want to flush mount the joists to the beams as I’d lose the cantilever area.
Any advice? Thank you.

I’m building a deck that is low to the ground. I’m having trouble figuring out how to support the beam that is only a few inches above the concrete piers.
I tried using the Simpson strong tie post beam and post cap, but it looks awfully silly with 6x6 posts that are only 1-1/2” to 2” in height. There isn’t enough wood to properly nail and secure the brackets to the wood. And the wood easily splits.
I can’t seem to find another solution. The adjustable brackets I found that would connect from the concrete directly to beam don’t seem to support the beam width of 4-1/2” (consists of three 2x10).
If I were to go back I would have tried to regrade the area to give me a few more inches. And I don’t want to flush mount the joists to the beams as I’d lose the cantilever area.
Any advice? Thank you.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, eyes fixed to hers.
“I… I don’t know.” She turned her head down but never broke his gaze. “I guess, I just liked the way he looked.” She seemed to be scanning him, looking for a sign of empathy.
“The way he looked? That’s all it took?” A troubled expression was awarded with this information, it didn’t seem to fill his desire to understand. “What about me? Do you like the way I look? Would you have done the same to me?”
Her expression changed into one of remorse, and regret. Not of authentic origin. She had strategically made this change.
If silence was deafening before, it had become maddening in its tone now. The room filled with the air of dread, and a weight was cast down upon the two men.
Standing in the corner, was the eldest of the two. Sporting short auburn hair, not yet touched by gray. He was donning a pair of round frame, wire rim glasses. His mustache short, well kept, and just stretching the length of his top lip.
The other man, was about ten years younger. His shaggy mop, dripping down over his forehead to his eyebrows. Only stubble decorating the length of his jaw line, and chin. This man was sitting across from the woman, asking the questions.
Their hearts, (while not racing) were thumping rhythmically and strong. They could feel the anticipation building in them with each thump getting stronger.
Thump, thump, thump…
“Would you?” His voice heightened in pitch.
Thump, Thump, Thump…
They never broke her gaze, eagerly awaiting her response.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…
She looked as if she was about to speak, her lips pursed together, indicating the thought behind her next move.
Then a flicker of the single overhead light, with both men uneasy, it caused them to reach for their hips. Their faces now beaded with sweat, and eyes narrowed on to her.
She was smiling…
“Do I scare you gentlemen?” A genuine question, filled with malice.
Out came a gruff voice “We saw what you did.”
The older of the two, stepping from the corner right hand hovering on his hip. Left shoulder turned toward the woman, and his left leg rooted in front of him.
“What if I was attacked? He hit me, threatened me, he was crazy!” Feigned innocence.
“No sign of struggle, and you show no indication of injury.” The smaller of the two voices claimed, sitting to her parallel.
Her smile deepened, and her gaze fixed only to him. Gave the impression, they were the only two in the room.
“You don’t have to struggle either,” she claimed “I can make it quick.”
He stood up, fast. his chair shot out from behind him. He attempted to pull the cold steel from his waist.
In a blur, her arm swiped up, smacking the swinging light off its fixes. Launching it across the room and into his chest, sending him back to the wall, with the sound of metal clanking onto the concrete floor.
Four shots rang out from toward the corner, deafening from inside the small room.
POP, POP, POP, POP…
The room being illuminated with each trigger squeeze, then a pause.
Blackness, silence, the interrogation room was filled with the manic mixture. Then a wet THUD from the far wall. Two more shots.
POP, POP…
Ringing ears, and strong rapid heart rate. The detective steps back into his corner, weapon out In front; scanning the width of the concrete box. Peering for any sign of movement.
“Jay,” he quietly calls out “Jay, are you alright?”
Silence for a moment, then a voice from HIS corner.
“I told him, I’d be quick.” A whisper.
Before he could rotate his body, a pair of hands were on his face. Shattering the metal spectacles. The fingers, with nails sharpened into shiv like instruments, dug into the skin. One claw at the bottom of his brow piercing through his eyelids. The other stabbing through his eyeballs, each popping like soft grapes.
“Ahhhh” a panicked scream echoed out.
He fell to his knees as she pulled her arms away from each other. One up, one down. Ripping his cheekbones from their respective place. Exposing the fleshy insides once hidden by laugh lines, and crows feet.
The sound of a hollow clatter as she released the mass in one hand. Then the soft thud of the body as she loosened the grip of the other.
The door swung open, low light peering in from the outside. An officer swings through the door, and peers around the void. A shadow passes through the open gap, as he draws his flashlight and places it under the gun in his right hand.
Click
The beam darts across the room. His breath stops, as he looks upon the gore fest decorating the cement box. The building is silent, and the danger is gone. Though the horror still looms.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, eyes fixed to hers.
“I… I don’t know.” She turned her head down but never broke his gaze. “I guess, I just liked the way he looked.” She seemed to be scanning him, looking for a sign of empathy.
“The way he looked? That’s all it took?” A troubled expression was awarded with this information, it didn’t seem to fill his desire to understand. “What about me? Do you like the way I look? Would you have done the same to me?”
Her expression changed into one of remorse, and regret. Not of authentic origin. She had strategically made this change.
If silence was deafening before, it had become maddening in its tone now. The room filled with the air of dread, and a weight was cast down upon the two men.
Standing in the corner, was the eldest of the two. Sporting short auburn hair, not yet touched by gray. He was donning a pair of round frame, wire rim glasses. His mustache short, well kept, and just stretching the length of his top lip.
The other man, was about ten years younger. His shaggy mop, dripping down over his forehead to his eyebrows. Only stubble decorating the length of his jaw line, and chin. This man was sitting across from the woman, asking the questions.
Their hearts, (while not racing) were thumping rhythmically and strong. They could feel the anticipation building in them with each thump getting stronger.
Thump, thump, thump…
“Would you?” His voice heightened in pitch.
Thump, Thump, Thump…
They never broke her gaze, eagerly awaiting her response.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…
She looked as if she was about to speak, her lips pursed together, indicating the thought behind her next move.
Then a flicker of the single overhead light, with both men uneasy, it caused them to reach for their hips. Their faces now beaded with sweat, and eyes narrowed on to her.
She was smiling…
“Do I scare you gentlemen?” A genuine question, filled with malice.
Out came a gruff voice “We saw what you did.”
The older of the two, stepping from the corner right hand hovering on his hip. Left shoulder turned toward the woman, and his left leg rooted in front of him.
“What if I was attacked? He hit me, threatened me, he was crazy!” Feigned innocence.
“No sign of struggle, and you show no indication of injury.” The smaller of the two voices claimed, sitting to her parallel.
Her smile deepened, and her gaze fixed only to him. Gave the impression, they were the only two in the room.
“You don’t have to struggle either,” she claimed “I can make it quick.”
He stood up, fast. his chair shot out from behind him. He attempted to pull the cold steel from his waist.
In a blur, her arm swiped up, smacking the swinging light off its fixes. Launching it across the room and into his chest, sending him back to the wall, with the sound of metal onto the concrete floor.
Four shots rang out from toward the corner, deafening from inside the small room.
POP, POP, POP, POP…
The room being illuminated with each trigger squeeze, then a pause.
Blackness, silence, the interrogation room was filled with the manic mixture. Then a wet THUD from the far wall. Two more shots.
POP, POP…
Ringing ears, and strong rapid heart rate. The detective steps back into his corner, weapon out In front; scanning the width of the concrete box. Peering for any sign of movement.
“Jay,” he quietly calls out “Jay, are you alright?”
Silence for a moment, then a voice from HIS corner.
“I told him, I’d be quick.” A whisper.
Before he could rotate his body, a pair of hands were on his face. Shattering the metal spectacles. The fingers, with nails sharpened into shiv like instruments, dug into the skin. One claw at the bottom of his brow piercing through his eyelids. The other protruding through his eyeballs, each popping like soft grapes.
“Ahhhh” a panicked scream echoed out.
He fell to his knees as she pulled her arms away from each other. One up, one down. Ripping his cheekbones from their respective place. Exposing the fleshy insides once hidden by laugh lines, and crows feet.
The sound of a hollow clatter as she released the mass in one hand. Then the soft thud of the body as she loosened the grip of the other.
The door swung open, low light peering in from the outside. An officer swings through the door, and peers around the void. A shadow passes through the open gap, as he draws his flashlight and places it under the gun in his right hand.
Click
The beam darts across the room. His breath stops, as he looks upon the gore fest decorating the cement box. The building is silent, and the danger is gone. Though the horror will loom decades.

strength:

• Manhandles Jon and carries him outside
  
• Manhandles Jon and crams his entire body into a cat carrier
  
• Manhandles Jon and uses his foot to plug a leaky faucet
  
• Manhandles Jon, using him as a TV remote
  
• Ragdolls John with a single swipe
  
• Kicks Jon’s chair over, with Jon in it.
  
• Gives Jon a limp
  
• Stuffs Jon’s head in a bottle
  
• Implies he can rip off Jon’s lips.
  
• Actually does it.
  
• Shreds Jon’s chair into an unrecognizable mess
  
• Shreds a couch up until there’s nothing left but a tiny scrap of fabric.
  
• Slams a mailman around like nothing
  
• Hauls Jon up a tree at running speed
  
• Holds himself up by his teeth
  
• Lifts his body weight with his teeth
  
• Rips out a tv’s screen with his teeth
  
• Bends a mirror
  
• Drives a long nail through a door
  
• Pushes Odie all the way around a swingset
  
• Cleanly bisects a christmas tree by slamming a door
  
• Sends a snowman’s head flying with a baseball bat
  
• Breaks a table in two with a stomp
  
• Stomps Odie flat
  
• Stomps through the floorboards
  
• Flings an apple hard enough to knock Odie flying
  
• Knocks Jon over with a snowball
  
• Bashes down a door
  
• Punches down a door
  
• Accidently pushes a door off its hinges
  
• Knocks a down a door by tackling Jon into it
  
• Pushes a door off its hinges and walks with its weight on his back into his house
  
• Busts a hole in the door
  
• Again
  
• Smashes a cat door off its hinges with a single push
  
• Smashes a door in half with Odie
  
• Working with Odie, busts down a door using Jon’s chair as a battering ram.
  
• Sends a fence gate flying off its hinges by smashing into it
  
• Smashes his head through a table
  
• Catches up to a car and rips its fender off
  
• Catches up to a car and rips an entire axle off
  
• Rips a fender off a car and a mailbox out of the ground
  
• Sends Jon flying with a kick
  
• Hurls an adult woman out of his house
  
• Drags a woman back to Jon
  
• Drags a mailman to Jon as a gift
  
• Drags and carries Jon outside
  
• Walks with the weight of Jon and a chair on his back
  
• Rips the cap off a fire hydrant
  
• Launches Odie into the horizon
  
• Punches another cat so hard they go flying
  
• Launches another cat into the horizon
  
• Launches Odie above the panel
  
• Kicks Odie to the ceiling
  
• Kicks Odie from one room into the other
  
• Punts Odie into the distance
  
• Launches Odie above the panel. Claims to have sent him to the moon.
  
• Kicks Odie so hard, he spins fast enough to hover in the air
  
• Kicks Odie so high in the air, it takes a significant amount of time for him to fall back down
  
• Smacks Odie with a signpost hard enough to send him flying far into the distance.
  
• Smacks Nermal high into the sky
  
• Sends Nermal flying with a flick
  
• Sends Nermal through a door
  
• Again
  
• And again
  
• Sends Nermal flying through a wall
  
• Smashes an enormous spider with a rolled up newspaper
  
• Lifts a table full of food
  
• Juggles a sofa
  
• Hurls a tv
  
• Holds up a tv
  
• Nails a tv to the ceiling
  
• Lifts a refrigerator
  
• Lifts a refrigerator and a giant magnet
  
• Pushes a refrigerator
  
• Rips a refrigerator door off its hinges offscreen
  
• Moves Jon’s above ground pool inside to disguise it as a food dish
  
• Dumps a large piano onto a scale
  
• Holds up a large safe on a pulley
  
• Reels a stone birdbath into his mouth
  
• Carries an entire tree into his house
  
• Holds up a giant coffee cup
  
• Holds up a giant donut with one hand
  
• Holds a giant burger
  
• Punts Odie into the distance
  
• And again
  
• Together with Odie, smashes through a wall
  
• Pulls down a chunk of wall
  
• Smashes into a wall with enough force to crack it
  
• Again
  
• Pushes his way out from inside the walls
  
• Jumps through the ceiling
  
• None of Odie's attempts to move him makes him budge
  
• Jon can’t pull him an inch on a leash
  
• Smashes an alarm clock
  
• Smashes a phone
  
• Mangles a scale
  
• With a swipe of his claws, knocks two bricks out of a fireplace
  
• Rips the concrete basin off a birdbath and carries it away
  
• Karate chops a table leg in two
  
• Either carries or creates a giant snowball on the roof of the house and pushes it onto Jon
  
• Throws a massive snowball high into the air to land on Jon.
  
• Pushes Jon’s bed out the window
  
• Rips a fire hydrant out of the ground
  
• Bends a traffic sign by accidentally running into it
  
• Carries a Christmas tree in his teeth
  
• Catches a shark and carries it to shore
  
• Using all of the snow in his yard, builds an enormous snowman that dwarfs his house.
  
• Smashes an ice cream truck, causing its roof to cave in
  
• Slams a window so hard the entire house collapses
  
• Lifts up his house using a jack
  
• Lifts a Christmas tree and shakes all its needles off
  
• Lifts a pile of food larger than himself
  
• Pulls a fish’s skeleton out of its body
  
• Rips a dial off a tv and sends it through a window
  
• Throws Odie
  
• Smacks a clown through a circus tent
  
• Walks with a pile of mud 2/3rds as tall as Jon stuck to his feet
  
• His tongue punches a hole through his bowl and the table it’s on
  
• Blows a spider out of a rolled up newspaper with enough force to stretch a screen window as far as the door it’s attached to is tall.
  
• Inflates a balloon so large it expands beyond the confines of the house he's in and lifts it off the ground
  
• Sucks an entire roast chicken through a straw
  
• Similar feat
  
• The coffee he drinks seems to grant improved strength, allowing an ordinary fly to carry Jon through the air at full speed
  

Durability:

• No-sells a potted plant to the head
  
• Tanks a watermelon to the head
  
• Takes multiple shoes to the head in succession
  
• Is hit in the head by a thrown spotlight
  
• Takes a hit from a guided newspaper launcher
  
• Gets mauled by a puma
  
• Is thrown against a wall by a buff mailman
  
• Gets smacked flying off-panel by a dog
  
• No-sells a kick from Odie
  
• Survives being accidentally set on fire while soaked with alcohol
  
• Falls onto a lit grill
  
• Ignores his blanket being on fire while wrapped in it
  
• Is inside a fondue pot as it boils
  
• Survives a heat wave so bad it melts a radio into liquid
  
• Eats lit candles
  
• Sticks his tongue in a waffle iron
  
• Implied to regularly drink and enjoy coffee so strong a few drops of it melts through a table and bends spoons.
  
• His face gets frozen into a birdbath
  
• Has his lips ripped from his face by the g-force of sledding down a hill
  
• Has a concentrated beam of sunlight shine directly into his eye
  
• Gets shocked by Jon’s electrified cookie jar
  
• Gets struck by lightning
  
• Survives being trapped inside a washing machine as it runs
  
• Again
  
• Is stuck by every single quill from a porcupine
  
• Is eaten by a snake
  
• Is run over by a lawnmower
  
• Has his tail stuck in a pencil sharpener
  
• Is flung through through a window
  
• Has a door slammed on him hard enough to crack a wall
  
• Is flattened by Jon slamming a door
  
• Again
  
• Is squashed flat as a pancake by a larger cat
  
• Gets brutalized by a whole gang of street dogs at once and enjoys it
  
• Survives a fall so hard he leaves a deep hole in the ground
  
• Again
  
• And Again
  
• Has a fridge fall on him
  
• Has a piano fall on his head
  
• Again
  
• Is crushed under a chunk of crumbling wall
  
• Is crushed under a larger chunk of wall
  
• Is crushed under a huge section of wall
  
• Has a slab of concrete fall on his head
  
• Has a giant can of cola fall on him
  
• Has a tree fall on him
  
• Has a large pile of sand dropped on him
  
• Has a large stone wheel hurled at him
  
• Is hit by a wrecking ball
  
• Falls from the roof of his house onto concrete
  
• Falls down a chimney
  
• Falls down a manhole
  
• Falls down a sinkhole
  
• Has his head rammed through the ceiling
  
• Again
  
• Steps out of a car going over 50mph
  
• Is bounced back by a screen door hard enough to crack a wall and topple furniture
  
• Gets smashed through a wall
  
• Is used as a battering ram to bust through a wall
  
• Falls from a great height out of a bird’s grip 1, 2
  
• Has a land mine explode in his face
  
• Implied to have been hit by a truck
  
• Is hit by a car
  
• Has a house collapse on him
  
• Survives without his stomach after it temporarily leaves his body
  
• Has the endurance to hang from a treebranch for an entire week
  
• Stays in the same spot long enough for the moon to wax from crescent to full waiting for a flower to grow.
  

Speed/Agility:

• Eats an immense amount of food in a single panel. Doubles as a durability feat for his stomach, as Jon states that that much food should cause him to burst if he tries to eat it all
  
• Eats all the food in a refrigerator in a very short time
  
• Eats a million meals in the same day by noon. This is even more impressive, as Garfield is famously averse to waking up early and fond of sleeping in, meaning it’s likely he didn’t have much time after waking up to eat a million meals before 12:00. For a little more context, Jon states that Garfield sleeps an average of 18 hours a day.
  
• While on a short walk, eats so many canaries he causes a city-wide shortage
  
• With Odie, completely wrecks Jon’s living room in a single second
  
• Leaves with all the furniture in a room after Jon leaves it briefly before he can return
  
• Outruns a charging bull
  
• Dodges out of the way of speeding cars
  
• Leaps out of the path of a speeding truck
  
• Keeps pace with a speeding car
  
• Again
  
• Keeps pace with an ice cream truck
  
• Claims to be “faster than a speeding delivery truck”
  
• Outruns rolling donuts, reaching the floor before they can fall off a table.
  
• Outruns the world’s largest ball of twine as it rolls down a hill after him
  
• Outruns a rolling snowball
  
• Runs up the wall and across the ceiling to the other side of the room in only a few panels
  
• Dodges a thrown shoe
  
• Dodges a thrown pair of binoculars
  
• Dodges a thrown pie with enough force behind it to knock the moon out of the sky
  
• Catches a thrown potted plant
  
• Eats his birthday cake out from under its candles, leaving them briefly suspended in the air
  
• Catches on to Odie’s tongue as he runs by
  
• Leaps to catch a piece of toast mid-air the second it pops up
  
• Again
  
• Eats several apples out of the air as Jon is juggling them
  
• Eats a butterfly out of the air mid-flight
  
• Snatches a fly out of the air
  
• Leaps to snatch a donut out of Jon’s hands before he can take a bite
  
• Rapidly decorates a tree in what Jon estimates to be a world record
  
• Catches up to a car and rips its fender off
  
• Catches up to a car and rips an entire axle off
  
• Demonstrates shocking agility chasing after a thrown mouse
  
• Does a flip
  
• Flips in midair to land on his feet at the last second
  
• Leaps from the floor to the ceiling off-panel
  
• Leaps from a table to the ceiling
  
• Walks on his front paws
  
• Balances a potted plant on his head while rolling atop a ball
  
• Swims rapidly into the sunset
  
• Spins his leg around so fast he takes flight like a helicopter
  
• While trying to escape a sweater, spins fast enough he becomes a small tornado
  
• Moves as a blur for a quick costume change
  
• After eating caffeinated sweets, he becomes a blur, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.
  
• Moves so fast, he seems to vanish panel-to-panel. Gets to his food dish and cleans it out before Jon can finish saying his name
  
• Moves so fast, his slipstream shreds Jon’s clothes
  
• Zooms in from a long distance away before Odie can take a bite of his food
  
• Catches a sandwich before it can hit the floor
  
• Zooms out of bed, eats dinner, and returns before his blanket has time to fall to the ground
  
• Spots a snowflake, and runs back inside, dragging Jon out to see it before it touches the ground.
  
• Moves to his bed before a lightbulb can go out
  
• Moves faster than the speed of sound
  
• Regularly keeps up with the mice in his house, who are implied to be FTE (except for the fat ones).
  
• Moves FTE
  
• Moves FTE, eating all the food out of his food bowl in the time it takes Jon to blink
  
• Eats a goldfish FTE in the space it takes the reader to blink
  
• Somehow loops back around after leaving the panel while Jon is still watching him
  
• Lets go of a tree branch to rub his arms, then grabs back on before he has time to fall
  
• Changes channels on a tv so fast it explodes and the remote starts to smoke
  

Misc:

• Eats an entire lasagna, pan and all
  
• Eats 219 lbs of lasagna
  
• Eats so many calories in one sitting, Jon’s calculator violently malfunctions from processing such a large number
  
• While on a walk, eats so many canaries he causes a city-wide shortage
  
• Eats an entire bowl of food, bowl included
  
• Again
  
• Eats the pants off of Jon
  
• Eats a tv remote
  
• Eats a bag of tools Jon bought from the hardware store, then spits one back up
  
• Eats a brick
  
• Casually eats a coffee cup
  
• Eats a poison frog
  
• Ate a poison toad
  
• Fits an entire cake in his mouth
  
• Again
  
• And Again
  
• He just keeps going at it
  
• Fits 200 french fries in his mouth
  
• Fits an entire glass fishbowl in his mouth
  
• Implied to have eaten an entire cow
  
• Eats a large fish-shaped sign
  
• Eats a giant burger larger than himself
  
• Eats a puffer fish, and has it expand to fifty times its size inside him
  
• Burps for 43 seconds straight
  
• Burps hard enough to send Jon and Odie flying, blow a door off its hinges, and peel away sections of sidewalk.
  
• Breathes fire after eating a peruvian death pepper
  
• Sneezes the petals off a large group of flowers
  
• With a single sneeze, he blows away Jon, Odie, and a whole room’s worth of furniture
  
• Sneezes hard enough to propel himself partially through a wall, widening an existing mousehole
  
• Can walk on ceilings
  
• Again
  
• And again
  
• His weight crushes a scale
  
• [Even Santa Claus thinks he’s fat]
  
• His weight bends a long wooden table
  
• His weight tips over Jon’s bed
  
• Again
  
• His weight bends metal playground equipment
  
• His weight causes a section of floor to collapse
  
• His weight topples a tree when he tries to climb it
  
• His weight causes ripples in a hardwood floor
  
• He is so heavy that he causes Jon’s chair to bounce into the air just by running nearby
  
• He’s heavy enough to pound a very deep, very wide hole into the ground just by cannonballing into a pool
  
• His weight warps the very medium of his existence, causing a panel he’s in to bend
  
• Wins a cat show
  
• Nobody can kill him without an appointment
  
• Apparently, he’s already dead
  
• With a single swipe, perfectly slices a loaf of bread
  
• Swats three spiders at once
  
• Scares off a dog larger than he is
  
• Can intimidate machinery into fixing itself
  
• Intimidates light itself to move
  
• Intimidates a balloon into staying afloat
  
• He commands snow to stop falling. With a glare, he even sends an errant flake back into the sky.
  
• Is completely unafraid of monsters
  
• Kills a flower with a single word
  
• His breath melts a vase and a picture frame
  
• His breath melts a metal fork and a glass cup
  
• His breath melts his own teeth
  
• His breath instantly knocks out Jon
  
• Nails Jon right under the nose with a party horn
  
• Lands several thrown donuts on Jon’s novelty moustache
  
• Hits Jon right between the eyes with a toy bow & arrow
  
• Plays at skeet shooting pieces of toast as they pop out of a toaster, and doesn’t miss a single one (we don’t see any arrows on the ground that haven’t impaled toast
  
• Nails Jon in the head with a rock
  
• Nails a mouse with a snowball
  
• Rapidly nails Jon and Odie with snowballs
  
• Uses a birdbath to hit Jon with a perfectly ricocheted snowball
  
• Can rapidly spit tennis balls like an automatic launcher
  
• Is an expert fisherman---without even using a pole!
  
• Pretty good at throwing his voice
  
• Steals Jon’s credit cards and uses them to buy himself a designer Italian suit
  
• Pickpockets an old man without him noticing
  
• Manages to sneak inside his own birthday cake without Jon or Odie seeing him
  
• Is aware he’s in a comic strip
  
• Addresses his reader directly
  
• Knows he’s printed on paper
  
• Is aware what angle he is being drawn from
  
• Pops his own snooze bubble
  
• Rotates his own snooze bubble
  
• Uses his knowledge of the fourth wall to steal a snooze bubble from Jon, depriving him of sleep
  
• Smacks Jon in the face with his snooze bubble
  
• Throws his own snooze bubble at Jon as a weapon
  
• Can play a piano from inside of it
  
• Can play guitar
  
• Makes a sandwich so large it stretches from his house across the street
  
• Can precisely identify the dish a stain came from by taste
  
• Knows what old hyena tastes like
  
• Hears Jon whispering from across the house
  
• While asleep, hears a pizza delivery happening three blocks away and is able to tell what toppings are on it.
  
• Can “hear ice cream”
  
• Implied to also be able to hear donuts.
  
• Chases an invisible mouse
  
• Steals a security camera out from under Jon’s nose, then pawns it without him noticing until later
  
• Plans out an exact chain reaction triggered by John slamming a door
  
• Perfectly measures out a hole to cut in the floor for Jon
  
• Double-Bamboozles Jon
  
• Melts his rubber mouse down and makes earplugs out of it
  
• Builds a revolving glass door into a refrigerator
  
• Rebuilds the front door so that it opens like a pet door and vice versa.
  
• Builds a trap door into a table for spiders
  
• Uses parts from an automatic dog door Jon bought to create a remote activated trap door for Odie
  
• Disables Jon’s brakes
  
• Reprogramme’s a scale with a complex AI.
  
• Creates an elaborate blueprint for his birthday cake, including electrical wiring schematics
  
• Builds a remote activated trap for birds “disguised” as a birdbath
  
• Creates an elaborate trap for a dog
  
• Sets a working trap for Santa Claus
  
• Sets traps for mailmen
  
• Sets up snowball lobbing booby traps all over the yard
  
• Robs a bank. Claims it was an accident.
  
• Steals milk from babies
  
• Turns Jon into a tourist attraction, and gets on the news
  
• Has a secret plan to lead cats to world domination
  
• Counts all the bricks in a silo
  
• Knows the exact moment when Jon will wake up every morning
  
• Pulls all the fabric off a chair, then knits it perfectly back into shape
  
• Using only his claws, carves a sofa into a statue of himself
  
• Elongates his body
  
• Has his body squeezed and elongated by a corset
  
• Has his neck stretched thin by a tight turtleneck
  
• Has his body stretched thin and compressed by a shrinking sweater
  
• Squashes himself flat with a recliner
  
• Able to have his body freely stretched
  
• Temporarily alters his body to appear extremely muscular
  
• Again
  
• Rapidly accumulates muscle mass in his arms simply by eating
  
• Has his face squashed into a square shape from sleeping in a corner
  
• After colliding with Odie, both have their front halves flattened
  
• Can tuck his head into his body like a turtle
  
• Can transfer his mass from his torso to his tail
  
• Gets squashed into a space between fence posts
  
• Squeezes into a vase far smaller than him
  
• Again
  
• Squeezes his entire body into a coffee cup
  
• He and Jon’s heads are shoved into the same bottle
  
• Hides his entire body flat under his cat bed
  
• Hides his entire body behind a thin lamp
  
• Stretches his arm to fit around a refrigerator
  
• Stretches his lips far from his face
  
• Extends his jaw
  
• Transforms into a monster on Halloween
  
• Is able to breathe while submerged in food
  
• Has his face turned upside down
  
• Has his face pucker inwards, folding in on itself
  
• Has opposable thumbs
  
• Sheds. A lot. Completely blankets John and a table with shed hair.
  
• His stomach can separate from the rest of his body, acting independently
  
• By viewing the world upside down, he alters the direction of gravity
  
• Able to move in slow motion at will, reducing his falls to a snail’s pace
  
• Warps reality by tilting a painting
  
• Sends Odie through time into the future with a kick
  
• Wills himself from an alternate time back to his own
  
• Can apparently travel freely between comic strips. Also more fourth wall awareness.
  
• Just.. completely breaks physics
  
• Seems to be able to make wishes and have them granted, albeit in a way he doesn’t always like
  
• Makes a birthday with for his cake to be bigger and has it come true
  
• Manifests objects from his dreams in real life
  
• Seems to be able to physically manifest and interact with figments of his psyche. Eats donuts representing his conscience, leaving behind crumbs that indicate they’re in some way real.
  
• Can infiltrate other people’s daydreams and interact with them
  
• Breaks a mirror with his looks
  
• Sings a note high enough to “shatter paper”
  
• Flicks off Odie’s nose
  
• Swaps noses with Odie, forcing him to suffer a sneeze
  
• Adjusts a dog’s nose like a dial to force it to bark more quietly
  
• Seemingly teleports Odie’s head from a top hat into his food dish
  
• Moves a mousehole while it’s still in the wall
  
• Has a flamethrower
  
• Has a chainsaw
  
• Has a dart gun
  
• Has a giant slingshot
  
• Has a “mouse call”
  

Things I really like but also hate

• King Kong canonically exists in Garfield’s world
  
• So do monsters
  
• And aliens
  

Hi, I know some of you have been interested in Joost’s written stuff, so this is one of them. It’s a short story that Joost wrote for Boekenweek voor Jongeren (Book Week for Young People) in 2019. There’s more info about it here (in Dutch) https://www.vice.com/nl/article/qvgzpv/joost-klein-schreef-een-kort-verhaal-over-een-wilde-nacht-in-berlijn and there was also this promo video for it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wx7wxnpxps0. It's been translated from Dutch - maybe not the most perfect translation but it's readable. Original in Dutch here. Enjoy

"How come he suddenly has cash?" I looked at Gurb, but he avoided my gaze. Louis never had money and yet he was buying another round. Meanwhile, a Moby song was playing and nothing made sense. "If he has money for drinks, he can surely pay me back, right?"
Just a few hours ago, I was alone in Berlin. Now, ten hours later, I'm standing in some obscure techno club with my best friends. Loud rock music with drunken shouting. "Hey, Miss Murder, can I make beauty stay if I take my life?" I woke up that day with a mild hangover from the lonely yet people-filled night before. Perfect conditions for a 20-year-old dropout.
The Hard Rock Café was the most beautifully ugly place in Berlin. Gurb had driven for seven hours straight in his mother's car, but we didn't notice. An iconic black Mini Cooper. Your body leads your mind, the beat never stops, and you can conquer the world. Louis threw in another crazy dance move. We were happy.
"Do you want another drink, brother?" Gurb asked me, half shouting. An evening filled with rhetorical questions. He saw me dancing and already knew the answer.
Gurb always had money. Louis, on the other hand, never did. Louis was also the youngest of us three. He had just turned 18. I wouldn't call him a cunning fox. More like a jack-of-all-trades. Like the time he made a lot of money on a Wadden Island with a group of boys. They sold large blocks of hash.
"Crazy dude!" I shouted at him. He yelled something back.
"Do you remember back then?" Louis said.
"Back then? Back then? Yeah man, of course!" I had no idea what he meant. "Do you mean the party?"
"Do you mean the party, he says! This guy. When I look at you like this, it makes me happy. The exact same kid is here letting loose just like back in high school!"
We knew each other from secondary school. He joined when I was in the second grade. He was very intelligent. Too young, too much knowledge of the world. His mother is from Brazil. We often went to his mother's place to play on the Playstation Louis and I had bought together.
I lived everywhere at that time. In the crisis shelter where I stayed for a while, for example, I wasn't allowed to have a Playstation. So we set it up in an accessible place, near school. It was always fun with Louis. Going together to the Apple Store. Taking all kinds of photos with all the webcams, posting them on Hyves, and then leaving. Louis always knew how to cheer me up.
"Aaaaaaaaaa!" There was Gurb with five drinks in his hands. Gurb was wearing a blue checkered shirt. Two buttons undone. Hair slicked back. "You look good, brother!"
"You look fresh too! We all look fresh!" Gurb said enthusiastically. Louis was wearing a completely white outfit. We quickly bought this before going out. He also bleached his hair.
"You look like the Brazilian cousin of James Dean in these clothes," I said. Louis laughed. "Let me take a picture."
Suddenly, the DJ switched to some kind of techno. "Ah, here Berlin briefly takes off its mask." I was fine with it all. Louis was talking to a lady.
Voluptuous breasts, I thought to myself. He gave her one of his two drinks.
"He's with a girl and he's thinking with his dick," I said to Gurb. "Let him be, tonight Berlin is ours!"
The bass kept pounding. "I simply don't have the patience for the club," I said to Gurb. He looked surprised. Like a sweet dog, tilting his head. "I'm just waiting for tomorrow. Can't do my thing here. Don't have patience for the already known. I want adventure and I want it now!"
Gurb started laughing. "Patience is a virtue." Yes. Patience is all well and good, but I think it's a waste of my time. Gurb grabbed my shoulder.
"I think it's time for another beer."
Louis and I were walking through Leeuwarden a year ago when suddenly a red Ford Ka stopped in front of us. It was Gurb, casually driving around the city. He invited us into his car. We hopped in. Since that afternoon, the three of us were together. A few months later, Louis got a tattoo on his ribs in honor of our friendship. It was the name of our group chat. Braddar Force Indigo.
There were also days when Gurb would take me for a drive around Friesland. He reminded me how beautiful Friesland is. The world doesn't spin there. The newspapers I threw away in the Stiens forest in 2011 could still be lying in the same spot, so to speak.
Just before midnight, I found myself in line for the restroom. My eyes fell on a pair of striking shoes. Cigarette smoke invaded my nose for the fourth time. "Müssen Sie eine Zigarette haben?" a female voice spoke to me. I felt like Tom Hanks in the final scene of Angels & Demons, where the new pope first steps onto the balcony. The curtains opened. There I was, witnessing an important moment in history. I was just told how I was sent by God, but my ears didn't want to hear any of it. At least that's how I felt. My mouth was empty. I had no words left. That's when I knew for sure. Berlin might really be as crazy as literally everyone says.
Dark blond, silky hair. Was this real beauty then? She wouldn't look 40, but I think she was. A true woman. Beautiful in all her elegance. I always joked about being interested in older women, but tonight one stood in front of me. "I don't smoke," I said to her.
Someone tapped me. "Please, just go to the toilet!" He was right. I hadn't peed in a while either. My urine was cloudy. "Glomerulonephritis," I said to myself on the toilet. This is an unusual condition. It's an inflammation in the kidneys, I thought I remembered. They should never have given me access to Google.
The evening progressed, and Louis kept buying rounds. "But seriously now. How does Louis suddenly have all that money for drinks?" I asked Gurb. He was outside smoking with a group of Swiss girls. I had strategically positioned myself so that I could always leave the crime scene if necessary.
"You shouldn't ask me," said Gurb. He was laughing with the temporary girlfriend group of Louis. Gurb has a beard. A lot of chicks like that. I get it too.
As much as I enjoyed Louis and Gurb being here for me, something didn't sit right with me. It couldn't just be about the money. "What's up with him?" I heard one of the Swiss girls say to Gurb.
Those kinds of questions really tire me out. "Not much, with you?" I replied.
They all started laughing. "That's not what she meant, brother," said Gurb.
"I couldn't care less whether she meant it or not. Send that brace-face back to Switzerland. Don't drive me crazy, alright!"
Actually, I hadn't drunk that much that evening. "Two vodka Sprites, please!" It's rare for me to get just one drink. "I always get two drinks, then you have to wait shorter for the third one!" Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I wanted to admit. Oh well, it was still the three of us against the world.
"Nice shoes, are those Prada?" I asked a random girl at the bar.
"No, these are fake. Why would I buy real ones for 600 dollars if I could just buy these for 20?"
"..."
I'm not very good at that. Talking. To women.
Louis and Gurb were in the smoking area now. It was less blue than the dance floor itself. My clothes already stank, so a visit to the smoking area couldn't hurt. "These people are so underground!" Gurb shouted. Louis was filming him with his phone. "These people..." There was a brief pause. As if Gurb forgot the only line he had. "...so underground!" All three of us burst into laughter. The alcohol flowed through our veins as if it came from the purest mountains. People seemed doubled and the room was full. We had been in the same club in Berlin for several hours.
"Leonardo! What are you hiding from the big boss?" I sometimes called Louis ‘DiCaprio.’ "You a rich guy, now?" I said, with an accent as if I were from the Bronx.
Louis started laughing. "Eh, you know nothing. Bullshit talk."
I had to laugh too. What was I even worried about? Friends are friends, with or without money. That shouldn't matter. Louis probably just worked for that money. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe he just had enough to buy rounds. But what if my gut feeling was right? That feeling was never wrong. Except for that one time at the Holland Casino in Groningen. Even the best of us have slip-ups. I was just getting worked up again. When it comes down to it, Louis is one of the sweetest guys I know. I had to let it go. After all, it's still Louis.
"I think I'm going to have sex soon, man," Louis said.
"With who?" I asked immediately.
"That one girl."
"Which one?"
"The one with the boobs."
"Oh, her. Just be careful."
"What kind of reaction is that?" Louis asked indignantly.
I'd only had four drinks, but I was acting like a mess. Louis was right. I didn't understand myself. Where was my head at? I'm here in Berlin, supposed to be having the time of my life, but here I am feeling lonely and sad again. Joost once again couldn't control his emotions.
"Sorry," I suddenly said to Louis. "Sorry for my behavior. Been acting dumb towards you all night. It's unnecessary." Sometimes I have that. Mood swings. "Know that crime is never the solution. We've talked about this so many times. Yes, it's tempting and sometimes easy money. I sometimes find it amusing too, but it's always hypothetical. Ask me for help. I can help you, even with illegal things. I'll always have your back." The dancing was kind of over.
The words I had just placed on Louis's plate came from my heart. My Frisian, irregular boys' heart.
Crying in the club. I had never seen myself like that. Crying, yes. In the club, no. I never understood the taboo around crying. Or emotions in general. I saw myself in the mirror. They weren't tears of joy. They weren't tears of sadness either. It was me letting everything go. All the emotions I had ever felt. The emotions I felt between my brother and sister and myself because they wanted to take on a parental role over me, but I was in puberty, so I pushed them away. The emotions I felt when my old neighbors were supposed to take care of my dog, but didn't tell me that he was bitten by one of their dogs. They didn't have money for the surgery, they later told me. They were ashamed of their lack of money. My dog died from this injury. Even the emotions that were all jumping at once during the retake for my swimming diploma A, I let go of.
No emotions. Just for a moment, not feeling anything. Is that too much to ask for?
"You still don’t smoke?"
It had to be the voice of the woman with the cigarettes. I looked over my shoulder through the mirror. It was her. The one with dark blond, silky hair.
"Not to be rude, but this is the men’s room," I said. She took a step closer and kissed me on my lips. It tasted like more. We started kissing. It had been a while since I had had female contact at this level. It probably didn't look good and it didn't feel good either. She started kissing my neck. Slowly, I noticed the pressure in the erectile tissues of my penis starting to increase. "I really don't have time for this!" I thought to myself. The woman with the cigarettes started to slowly sink down until she was on her knees. I didn't want this. Not now, not like this. She unraveled my penis from my Polo Ralph Lauren underwear. Her tongue was blue. It was probably from cheap shots of alcohol.
Was this real beauty then? Was this the beginning or the end of her story? And had I become the boy my parents hoped I would be? I thought about the fact that this was once someone's little daughter. Somewhere in the world, an old man might be wondering what his daughter is doing. Am I really putting pleasure above my own morals and values?
With my semi-erect circumcised penis still exposed, I lifted her up. After giving her a kiss on her forehead, I pulled up my pants and left the toilets.
It was the usual last hour in any club ever. I met Louis and Gurb at the bar. "Should we have another drink?" I asked Gurb. "I feel like having a cocktail. Something sweet. Lots of sugar. What about you?"
Gurb looked at the menu. "A cognac would go down well right now."
"A cognac? You're only nineteen!" Gurb and Louis laughed. "Two Tequila Sunrises please!" I called to the bartender. "Also, two beers! Thanks!" I also got a beer for Louis. At first, I didn't want to, but I didn't want to spoil the mood either. Besides, I didn't want to show too much that it bothered me so much.
We danced away the last minutes. The club closed, and we decided to walk with the group of Swiss girls. Apparently, they were staying nearby.
As I lagged behind the group, one of them tried to start a conversation with me. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly.
"I'm fine. Just had too much beer. Makes me sleepy." Not true at all, but I've heard people say that.
"You’re tired? The fun has only just began!" And as she said this, she pulled something out of her inner pocket. Her clenched fist, shielded by a half jacket. Who is this girl, anyway? I thought to myself. She opened her hand flat, and right in the center of her palm lay two small pills with a smiley face on them. At least, they looked like it.
"Oh, I don’t do drugs. Sorry."
"Me neither!" And she swallowed a pill. "Now it’s your turn... Or are you scared?"
Scared? Who did this crazy Swiss witch (with really beautiful eyes) think she was. With her "are you scared". I'll show her who's scared.
"Scared? I’m not scared." I picked up the remaining pill and swallowed it.
Everything went in slow motion. Was this who I had become? Was this the same boy from high school? And just before I could swallow, I spat out the pill. She was shocked. I picked up the pill again, dried it with my jacket, and put it back in her fist. "Maybe later!" I shouted, running back to the group, over my shoulder.
I have nothing to say to 9 out of 10 peers I come across. Of course, I can be social. I can also have fun with random people in random situations, but that night, it just tired me out. I also didn't understand what we were doing there. Those girls found me strange anyway. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel.
"We know this place where they go until 7 in the morning!" The girl leader of the group spoke. I wanted to go home. "If you guys want, you can go. Don't worry about me," I said to Gurb and Louis. The boys had a brief discussion. We agreed to stay for just a little while longer for some drinks. I consented. I was thirsty. "I'll have a Fanta, Louis."
Gurb had reached the last cigarette in his pack. Louis and a girl from the group were nowhere to be found. It didn't even bother me. This guy just walks around with some cash in his pocket and all hell breaks loose. After a night full of stimuli, I understood Louis. Of course, I understood Louis. He's a young god. Handsome, smart guy. But that didn't make me any less angry. It was purely about trust for me. Something inside me said I should stop subconsciously expecting things from people too. It prevents disappointment.
"Hotel please!" I jokingly suggested to Gurb. "Should you call Louis or should I?" I added. Gurb immediately grabbed his Android smartphone and called Louis. He put the call on speaker.
"Are you ready?" Gurb asked.
"Yeah. Sort of."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't have sex."
"That's fine, right? Tomorrow's a new day!"
"I think I'm in love, man," Louis said.
"...," Gurb said, chuckling as he let out a sigh.
Once we arrived at the girls' hostel, it was already getting light. Louis was thankfully back. There were stains on his pants, around his knees. My focus was solely on arranging a taxi. Although the boys were still flirting, I was really done now. "How are we going to pay for this taxi?" I said a bit too loudly.
There was a silence. "Don't worry. I still have cash," Gurb said.
"Yeah, I knew you would," I replied.
My words clearly hit Louis. "What do you mean by that?" he said.
It was as if time stood still for a few seconds. "Exactly what I said. Better listen." Louis pulled out a small wad of green bills from his pocket. At least 400 euros. "I don't even want to see that money," I reacted. I walked away.
I'll just order a taxi myself.
"Why are you walking away now?" Gurb said.
"Twelve hours ago, I was alone too, and I had a lot more fun then."
"Do you really want to know how I got this money?" Louis said.
Yes, I did want to know. My whole evening revolved around that damn money.
He took a second of pause before he began speaking. "The answer lies in the Mini."
What on earth could be in Gurb's mother's car? Louis was trying to get into my head. "Taxi!"
Once in the taxi, the division was clear. Gurb was upfront, chatting animatedly with the driver. All adventures ever were recounted. Louis and I in the back. One of my best friends since I was thirteen. Funny how things turn out. It was quiet between us. I was in my head, rehearsing how I would bring up the money again. It didn't add up, and he knew it himself. "I don't care, you know," I said, hoping he'd break.
"What don't you care about?"
"About that money."
"What money? You're really a crazy woozy man." Louis burst out laughing again.
On the other hand, it was silent. Gurb had started talking about the driver's family. The driver didn't appreciate it. Gurb meant well. The driver smelled of alcohol. Or was it me? His nails were polished. Maybe his wife was a specialist. I bite my nails myself. Like now.
"In the Mini, oh yeah."
"Shut up. Illegal man."
"You'll never know."
"Stop playing. Just say it!"
Louis grabbed my head, pulled himself towards me, and brought his mouth to my right ear. "Why so serious?" he whispered. He didn't want to tell me.
"But always with this damn money, huh?" I almost shouted at Louis. I broke every silence within a radius of 10 kilometers.
"I'm trying my best, bro. It is what it is. I can't make it any different," he replied. It was clearly bothering him deeply. He ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes people have to do things. And you know that better than anyone. Sometimes they have to do things they don't really want to or aren't supposed to do."
I knew this spiel all too well. Through all the drunken haziness, I suddenly saw a small glimmer of light. A tiny spark of sincerity. Louis was serious this time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to involve you in this. I'm sorry," sweat dripped from his forehead.
"You're serious, huh? Damn, man. What mess have you gotten yourself into now? Worse than Terschelling?" Worse than Terschelling would mean stolen goods. Maybe even violence.
"It's not what you think."
"The Adlon Hotel, right?" the driver chimed in. Always saved by the bell, that Louis.
Suddenly I hit my head against the seat in front of me. Of course, I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. The last thing I saw was Gurb waking up in panic from his drunken stupor. One by one, I started losing my senses. It started with the feeling in my fingers. For a brief moment, everything wasn't quite black, and I could only see a vague pattern of colors repeating inside my eyelids. You could compare it to the brief moment after the commercial break before the movie starts in the cinema. The movie was about to begin.
I knew I wasn't dying. At least not yet. Not like this. Not after an overall mediocre night out in Berlin. I found comfort in the image I forced myself to see. It was all in my head. There I was, unconscious.
I saw myself in a third-person point of view. It wasn't like I was actually leaving my body. More like there was a webcam hanging in one of the upper corners of the taxi.
As a child, I used to dream a lot about death. Nights spent awake.
At some point, I developed a kind of compulsive behavior. I kept swaying my torso from left to right with my hands under my head. It became almost like a workout before bedtime. Every night.
I called it dream shuffling. Just like I had learned to shuffle puzzle pieces or playing cards. Making things a little exciting for yourself. But what I almost never told anyone was that I was scared. I was afraid of burglars, who were very agile and muscular.
Especially afraid that they would murder me. I really wanted to know what death was like. It scared me.
These fear visions originated during an all-inclusive vacation in Turkey. I was 6 years old and already in bed. There was a big old TV in our hotel room, so I could secretly watch TV from bed. Every evening, my parents sat on the balcony. Here they discussed their day while enjoying a glass of alcohol. There was a Japanese animated series on TV. In the few seconds that I watched, I saw a scary creature climbing a sort of apartment complex via the balconies. The creature had hundreds of teeth and blond hair. It quickly entered to decapitate the people, then drained them and, as a final insult, robbed them. Dozens of carcasses of dead people were scattered around the apartment complex. The complex on TV resembled the resort where we were in reality, and the TV world merged with my surroundings. I became part of it. I saw people watching. No matter how loudly I screamed for help, they didn't react. The sun became very bright, and the people turned into nothing more than shadows. As the intensity of the sun increased, something became clear to me. These were not people. They had a sort of orange skin. Where I had previously thought it was their nose and mouth, it turned out that these shadowy figures did not have such physical features. They simply had three holes in their heads. The police tried to do something, but in vain. Since then, we always kept the light on in the hallway outside my bedroom. By rocking back and forth, from left to right, I could glance fleetingly at the beam of light under the door. That bit of light, escaping from the hallway into my room, gave me an advantage. It allowed me to stay one step ahead of the burglars. Pretty smart, right?
"From Jamaica to the world!
It’s just love. Why must the children play in the street?"
It was Bob Sinclar with "Love Generation" speaking to us through the taxi's speakers. We were stationary. I was conscious again, but I didn't feel alive at all. "How long was I out?" I asked Louis.
I could tell by his expression that he was relieved. Relieved that I was back. "One minute," he almost apologized. Louis gave me a pat on the shoulder. Gurb, on the other hand, was sleeping. He slept like a baby cub.
I put my right index finger on my forehead. It felt wet, but it wasn't blood. Blood feels different. Meanwhile, I kept hearing whistling.
"Be the love generation! Oh yeah!" It was still that same song by Bob Sinclar.
The earlier scent of alcohol had now been replaced by the smell of incense. It smelled like the same incense I had in my room. Sold to me as Tibetan 39 incense. I had bought it at a coffee shop in Rotterdam. I pulled up my notes on my phone. "Who lights incense in a CAR????" I let Louis read from my screen. He took the phone from my hands and started typing as well.
"Look at Gurb >>>" Gurb was so deeply asleep that his head drooped. His seatbelt held his torso in place, but his head ended up on the driver's shoulder. The man didn't mind. He didn't move. I made eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and soon I found him. He winked at me.
We arrived at the hotel. Gurb awakened from his alcoholic hibernation. "Who's going to pay for the taxi?" I asked. Clearly rhetorical. I already knew I would take this one for the team, as usual. I refused to use Louis's money. It was uncomfortably quiet. "By card please," I said.
"I'll always protect you, Louis. You really need to know that. I care about you like my own little brother. I'll always try to help you. But you have to be honest with me. Can you do that?" Louis didn't hesitate.
"Yes. Yes, I can. I'll show you. It's really in the Mini." Meanwhile, the taxi driver's card machine indicated that I had insufficient funds. That couldn't be right. Maybe I had withdrawn too much that evening.
"I have cash in the hotel room," Gurb said to me. Gurb informed the driver in broken English that he would go get his cash. The driver agreed. Money is money, whether it comes now or later. As long as it feels good in your hands.
Louis and I got out of the taxi. "You're not going to light a cigarette now, are you?" Louis wanted to smoke. "Especially for stress. That's really for people who can't handle pain. You need to feel pain. Pain needs to brand you for the rest of your life so you finally learn not to do such stupid things." It fell silent again. My blood boiled. All pots were on the stove. I felt like Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen. "Show me then. Do it."
Louis remained silent and walked around the corner of the hotel. Towards the parking lot. I followed him. "You're not going to find much," said Louis.
"Why not? Are you a magician?"
"No. Just. Not much."
"So there's suddenly magically nothing in Gurb's car?"
"Stop. Get out. Get out of my head!" Louis shouted. Louis had had enough. He was done with the parade. Normally we dealt with hypothetical stories. Only this time it wasn't a joke. I was sure now. Louis had dropped his mask. The revolution had begun. The government had fallen and the dikes had broken. The people were in charge. "You shouldn't freak out like this. Always wanting more. Sweet boy, think about yourself."
After Gurb gave the money to the driver, he came to us. He had a smile on his face, lit a cigarette, and exclaimed, "Brothers!" Once with us, he hugged me. He started laughing. "Maybe I haven't been entirely honest either." Sometimes Gurb seemed like a 38-year-old man. In a positive way. He exuded confidence in a way I didn't often see. Affectionate, with a hint of authority.
We stood in the middle of a large parking lot. "Look. We've reached a point where I might not even care anymore. You guys are teasing me." It did matter to me. Maybe more than ever. I was supposed to be two steps ahead of them, but I couldn't figure it out. "I give up."
The delightful silence returned. Louis and Gurb looked at each other. "You guys win. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted as a friend."
From Louis's expression, I could tell he disagreed with this. "Not true. Come to the car."
We arrived at the car. Louis unlocked it and searched for the trunk button. Gurb had started his third cigarette. "It's a corpse, isn't it? Say it now. I can still help you. I can still help us. I can book a ticket for you. We can get you out of here," I said to Louis.
"Just wait. Nutcase."
"Why won't you accept my help?"
Louis started laughing nervously. Or at least it seemed that way. Perhaps a sly laugh too. Had Louis killed someone? "It's not a corpse. That can't be. You wouldn't be stupid enough to use their ID. You're smarter than that. So it must be something stolen. Haven't you found that button yet?"
Suddenly, we heard a click. Louis had found the button. Somewhere, I didn't want to know. Shouldn't I just trust Louis? Wasn't that the whole point of friendship?
Finally, the moment had arrived. I placed my right hand in the slot of the rear hatch. Something in me doubted. Still. I still doubted. Louis looked dead serious. "You wanted to know, didn't you? Then you also have to be man enough to accept it." Louis was clearly not joking. Or was he acting again? "Pussy," Louis said. I looked away. "You're afraid of what's inside, huh? You're afraid of the real Louis." He began to laugh manically. "Open that thing, man. Nutcase!"
I started laughing too. Why did I make such a big deal out of it? Sweat broke out from every pore in my body. It was even a bit damp in the no man's land between my scrotum and my anus. A tropical climate. It had been quite an adventure the whole evening. I took my hand off the rear hatch and first gave Louis a hug. Not some half-hearted birthday wish. No, a real hug.
"It's okay, buddy," Louis said to me. I had no idea what he meant by that. It fit the moment though.
It was really time now. I opened the rear hatch.
"Where is it?"
"In front of you," said Louis.
"In some secret compartment?"
There was nothing in the trunk. Absolutely nothing. An empty trunk. For an empty evening, in an empty Berlin, with an empty group of guys. I didn't get it.
"You won, man," I whispered. "You finally fucking done did it."
I couldn't believe my eyes. Empty? There was still nothing in the car. Louis just stood there. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I had felt every emotion this evening. Seen every color and smelled every scent. I was done. My body was ready. No longer needed. My mission was complete.
"But why did you do this?" I asked Louis, laughing.
He scratched his chin. It felt like the end of a bad movie.
"I sold our Playstation. Wanted to tell you only after I had sorted everything out again. I terminated my lease. Had some debts, and I also wanted to have some money for once. Once not empty-handed in the club. Once not dependent on my best friends. This is not who I am... I know how much that Playstation meant to you. It was ours together. I should have just told you."
"… and how does Gurb actually make his money?"

Skinwalkers in Rural Michigan
I recently purchased a 10,000 lumen flashlight to illuminate the surrounding woods as I walk my dog in the evenings. I have been hearing some strange noises at night, and I figured it would be nice to see everything that boxes me in as I walk Max, my dog. But boy was I wrong. I should have been afraid of what can't be seen outside the veils of my iphone flashlight. What was to be exhumed by my flashlight terrified me to my core. This happened a week or so ago, November, 2nd 2022, Harrison Michigan. The evenings were approaching abruptly now. It was only 8:30pm when I decided to take my golden retriever on one last shit walk before I got settled in for the night. At this time, in rural Michigan at least, it’s pitch black. I cursed underneath my breath as I opened the door and peered out. Fuck, chilly and dark. God, why haven’t I moved south yet? Max was timid this evening, which was so really unlike him. Very strange. The darkness emanating from outside my house poured in like a disease. It was void of any color. Upset about not replacing my porch light, I pulled out my new amazon special, this week it was a 10,000 lumen flashlight. Feeling its expensive metallic body in my hands felt exonerating, and the excitement to use it overthrew any bad vibes Max was giving. He whimpered as soon as the door opened, he then put his tail between his legs and shivered. I scoffed at his weak tendencies here, this was so unlike him. I turned this ungodly bright flashlight on and showed it forward. “For fuck sake look Max, nothing to be afraid of y-” I was cut off. My mouth gaped at what was in front of me. Shown in the powerful beam of the flashlight was a contorted lanky humanoid figure. It slumped down from a standing position and got on all fours like a person miming a frog. Then it jerked its head up and sniffed the air. Animistically. It turned its head and bored its stare right into my eyes. Then it darted into a bush on the edge of the woods. The edge of the woods that surround my entire house. I heard leaves crackle and watched the skin colored creature dissipate into them. I focused the beam of my light directly onto that bush. It was incredibly bright and the bush appeared like high definition from the immense light, especially in contrast to the oily blackness that surrounded me. The bush shaked ominously, like a predator was inside, shifting around. A familiar feminine voice came from that bush. “Please help me… oh god please help… help… help mee…” And the leaves rustled again. Max whimpered in terror and got between my legs. I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept beside the front door for just such occasions and held it beside my head in a “ready to whoop” gesture, the other hand on my flashlight. I shakily started towards the bush from my door. Max bolted inside, leaving me completely alone. “Helllppppp meee” the voice cooed. The soft feminine coo of the voice crackled a little this time. Yeah, almost as if something was masquerading as a female, and luring me in. I was about 6 feet away by now, I could feel the blood pulsating in my temples. Goosh flesh ran down my body. “Helllpp,” deeper voice “Meeee!” An elongated ashy white arm flung towards me at ankle height. I instinctively stomped down on it. I heard cracking and sloshing from underneath my shoe. I stepped directly onto its wrist. I heard a shriek from inside the depths of that bush and the hand sprung up like a trap being set off. The strength possessed by this creature was unreal, it slung me to the ground and began to reel me into its bush where it resided. I screamed, smacked the arm with the bat as hard as I could and then lost control of the bat. It fell next to me as I was dragged closer to the bush, now my feet were inside the leafy abyss. The voice turned into my mothers voice. The clawed hands grasp on me tightened with tremendous strength and the nails dug into my skin through my pants. “Help me Nathaniel. Your mother needs help. I can't walk.” Yeah alright. I shined my light into the bush. What I saw still makes me tremble. It was my dead mothers face there alright, but atop an ashy white skinned humanoid skeleton with backward joints. The arms bent unnaturally opposite of how they should, the legs were bent like a frogs ready to pounce. The eyes were milky white, but were extremely intelligent and they gazed into my consciousness. With all of my force, I horse kicked my deceased mothers face and heard a massive crunch as my heel connected with her masqueraded nose. A profane yelp of pain blasted into the darkness of this B.F.E. where I lived. The grip on my leg loosened just enough from the blow for me to break free. I shot upright and turned to the door. I dropped my flashlight in this madness and couldn’t give a shit less. It could keep it for all I fucking cared. I bolted towards the door, and as I reached the halfway point I was Illuminated by a blinding bright light from behind. Almost like a spotlight beamed right onto me. My. Fucking. God. That thing had my flashlight and was pointing it directly at me. “Helpp… Nathaniel. Help me son.” The light started to bob up and down. Whatever was holding it was lurking closer and closer to me, and was gaining on me much faster than I was to the door. So much for not being able to walk. I ended up winning the foot race miraculously. I jumped inside my door and slammed it behind me. I heard a loud thump into the door immediately following its closure. My mothers late voice came again, beckoning me. “Son. You know your mother has taught you better than this. Let me in. Please, my son.” The light shone through the window at me, blinding me. Seeing spots and now disoriented, I fumbled myself up and managed to lock the door. Max was at the furthest point possible from the door, glaring at the door trembling in fear. Three solid knocks from the top of the door frame. Then the light was gone and I heard a metallic clunk, the thing must have dropped the flashlight on its retreat. The light now was gleaming off a huge tree. I watched a tall skinny humanoid creature with long contorted ligaments jerkily run towards that tree. His legs bent opposite of how our legs do, and same with the arms. Then it bent down in the same erratic way that it moved, and got onto all fours as it approached the tree. It paused a second and peered up the trunk. His head swiftly snapped to my face. Its now black and sunken eyes stared into my soul. I froze in terror as it climbed that trunk, with its face directly bored into me mind you, like squirrel. Scurrying right up it, never leaving contact with my eyes. The light undoubtedly should be blinding his vision, but the sense of intelligence of it knowing my existence was uncanny. Light didnt hurt it. As it ascended it smiled at me, a predatory grin. It disappeared into a purple dot that was still in my vision from when I was blinded by the flashlight. As I moved my head to try to see the creature, I watched tree leaves russell and saw no more of it. Yet. I locked the doors that night and cleaned up Max’s accidents from not going out. At night as I was asleep, I was awoken by my mothers soft voice from right outside the bedroom window. “Let me in Nathaniel..” Then directly following this motherly imitation came a 10,000 lumen flashlight beamed into my face. I heard the window slowly open, but I was blinded by the light.

Skinwalkers in Rural Michigan
I recently purchased a 10,000 lumen flashlight to illuminate the surrounding woods as I walk my dog in the evenings. I have been hearing some strange noises at night, and I figured it would be nice to see everything that boxes me in as I walk Max, my dog. But boy was I wrong. I should have been afraid of what can't be seen outside the veils of my iphone flashlight. What was to be exhumed by my flashlight terrified me to my core. This happened a week or so ago, November, 2nd 2022, Harrison Michigan. The evenings were approaching abruptly now. It was only 8:30pm when I decided to take my golden retriever on one last shit walk before I got settled in for the night. At this time, in rural Michigan at least, it’s pitch black. I cursed underneath my breath as I opened the door and peered out. Fuck, chilly and dark. God, why haven’t I moved south yet? Max was timid this evening, which was so really unlike him. Very strange. The darkness emanating from outside my house poured in like a disease. It was void of any color. Upset about not replacing my porch light, I pulled out my new amazon special, this week it was a 10,000 lumen flashlight. Feeling its expensive metallic body in my hands felt exonerating, and the excitement to use it overthrew any bad vibes Max was giving. He whimpered as soon as the door opened, he then put his tail between his legs and shivered. I scoffed at his weak tendencies here, this was so unlike him. I turned this ungodly bright flashlight on and showed it forward. “For fuck sake look Max, nothing to be afraid of y-” I was cut off. My mouth gaped at what was in front of me. Shown in the powerful beam of the flashlight was a contorted lanky humanoid figure. It slumped down from a standing position and got on all fours like a person miming a frog. Then it jerked its head up and sniffed the air. Animistically. It turned its head and bored its stare right into my eyes. Then it darted into a bush on the edge of the woods. The edge of the woods that surround my entire house. I heard leaves crackle and watched the skin colored creature dissipate into them. I focused the beam of my light directly onto that bush. It was incredibly bright and the bush appeared like high definition from the immense light, especially in contrast to the oily blackness that surrounded me. The bush shaked ominously, like a predator was inside, shifting around. A familiar feminine voice came from that bush. “Please help me… oh god please help… help… help mee…” And the leaves rustled again. Max whimpered in terror and got between my legs. I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept beside the front door for just such occasions and held it beside my head in a “ready to whoop” gesture, the other hand on my flashlight. I shakily started towards the bush from my door. Max bolted inside, leaving me completely alone. “Helllppppp meee” the voice cooed. The soft feminine coo of the voice crackled a little this time. Yeah, almost as if something was masquerading as a female, and luring me in. I was about 6 feet away by now, I could feel the blood pulsating in my temples. Goosh flesh ran down my body. “Helllpp,” deeper voice “Meeee!” An elongated ashy white arm flung towards me at ankle height. I instinctively stomped down on it. I heard cracking and sloshing from underneath my shoe. I stepped directly onto its wrist. I heard a shriek from inside the depths of that bush and the hand sprung up like a trap being set off. The strength possessed by this creature was unreal, it slung me to the ground and began to reel me into its bush where it resided. I screamed, smacked the arm with the bat as hard as I could and then lost control of the bat. It fell next to me as I was dragged closer to the bush, now my feet were inside the leafy abyss. The voice turned into my mothers voice. The clawed hands grasp on me tightened with tremendous strength and the nails dug into my skin through my pants. “Help me Nathaniel. Your mother needs help. I can't walk.” Yeah alright. I shined my light into the bush. What I saw still makes me tremble. It was my dead mothers face there alright, but atop an ashy white skinned humanoid skeleton with backward joints. The arms bent unnaturally opposite of how they should, the legs were bent like a frogs ready to pounce. The eyes were milky white, but were extremely intelligent and they gazed into my consciousness. With all of my force, I horse kicked my deceased mothers face and heard a massive crunch as my heel connected with her masqueraded nose. A profane yelp of pain blasted into the darkness of this B.F.E. where I lived. The grip on my leg loosened just enough from the blow for me to break free. I shot upright and turned to the door. I dropped my flashlight in this madness and couldn’t give a shit less. It could keep it for all I fucking cared. I bolted towards the door, and as I reached the halfway point I was Illuminated by a blinding bright light from behind. Almost like a spotlight beamed right onto me. My. Fucking. God. That thing had my flashlight and was pointing it directly at me. “Helpp… Nathaniel. Help me son.” The light started to bob up and down. Whatever was holding it was lurking closer and closer to me, and was gaining on me much faster than I was to the door. So much for not being able to walk. I ended up winning the foot race miraculously. I jumped inside my door and slammed it behind me. I heard a loud thump into the door immediately following its closure. My mothers late voice came again, beckoning me. “Son. You know your mother has taught you better than this. Let me in. Please, my son.” The light shone through the window at me, blinding me. Seeing spots and now disoriented, I fumbled myself up and managed to lock the door. Max was at the furthest point possible from the door, glaring at the door trembling in fear. Three solid knocks from the top of the door frame. Then the light was gone and I heard a metallic clunk, the thing must have dropped the flashlight on its retreat. The light now was gleaming off a huge tree. I watched a tall skinny humanoid creature with long contorted ligaments jerkily run towards that tree. His legs bent opposite of how our legs do, and same with the arms. Then it bent down in the same erratic way that it moved, and got onto all fours as it approached the tree. It paused a second and peered up the trunk. His head swiftly snapped to my face. Its now black and sunken eyes stared into my soul. I froze in terror as it climbed that trunk, with its face directly bored into me mind you, like squirrel. Scurrying right up it, never leaving contact with my eyes. The light undoubtedly should be blinding his vision, but the sense of intelligence of it knowing my existence was uncanny. Light didnt hurt it. As it ascended it smiled at me, a predatory grin. It disappeared into a purple dot that was still in my vision from when I was blinded by the flashlight. As I moved my head to try to see the creature, I watched tree leaves russell and saw no more of it. Yet. I locked the doors that night and cleaned up Max’s accidents from not going out. At night as I was asleep, I was awoken by my mothers soft voice from right outside the bedroom window. “Let me in Nathaniel..” Then directly following this motherly imitation came a 10,000 lumen flashlight beamed into my face. I heard the window slowly open, but I was blinded by the light.

Skinwalkers in Rural Michigan
I recently purchased a 10,000 lumen flashlight to illuminate the surrounding woods as I walk my dog in the evenings. I have been hearing some strange noises at night, and I figured it would be nice to see everything that boxes me in as I walk Max, my dog. But boy was I wrong. I should have been afraid of what can't be seen outside the veils of my iphone flashlight. What was to be exhumed by my flashlight terrified me to my core. This happened a week or so ago, November, 2nd 2022, Harrison Michigan. The evenings were approaching abruptly now. It was only 8:30pm when I decided to take my golden retriever on one last shit walk before I got settled in for the night. At this time, in rural Michigan at least, it’s pitch black. I cursed underneath my breath as I opened the door and peered out. Fuck, chilly and dark. God, why haven’t I moved south yet? Max was timid this evening, which was so really unlike him. Very strange. The darkness emanating from outside my house poured in like a disease. It was void of any color. Upset about not replacing my porch light, I pulled out my new amazon special, this week it was a 10,000 lumen flashlight. Feeling its expensive metallic body in my hands felt exonerating, and the excitement to use it overthrew any bad vibes Max was giving. He whimpered as soon as the door opened, he then put his tail between his legs and shivered. I scoffed at his weak tendencies here, this was so unlike him. I turned this ungodly bright flashlight on and showed it forward. “For fuck sake look Max, nothing to be afraid of y-” I was cut off. My mouth gaped at what was in front of me. Shown in the powerful beam of the flashlight was a contorted lanky humanoid figure. It slumped down from a standing position and got on all fours like a person miming a frog. Then it jerked its head up and sniffed the air. Animistically. It turned its head and bored its stare right into my eyes. Then it darted into a bush on the edge of the woods. The edge of the woods that surround my entire house. I heard leaves crackle and watched the skin colored creature dissipate into them. I focused the beam of my light directly onto that bush. It was incredibly bright and the bush appeared like high definition from the immense light, especially in contrast to the oily blackness that surrounded me. The bush shaked ominously, like a predator was inside, shifting around. A familiar feminine voice came from that bush. “Please help me… oh god please help… help… help mee…” And the leaves rustled again. Max whimpered in terror and got between my legs. I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept beside the front door for just such occasions and held it beside my head in a “ready to whoop” gesture, the other hand on my flashlight. I shakily started towards the bush from my door. Max bolted inside, leaving me completely alone. “Helllppppp meee” the voice cooed. The soft feminine coo of the voice crackled a little this time. Yeah, almost as if something was masquerading as a female, and luring me in. I was about 6 feet away by now, I could feel the blood pulsating in my temples. Goosh flesh ran down my body. “Helllpp,” deeper voice “Meeee!” An elongated ashy white arm flung towards me at ankle height. I instinctively stomped down on it. I heard cracking and sloshing from underneath my shoe. I stepped directly onto its wrist. I heard a shriek from inside the depths of that bush and the hand sprung up like a trap being set off. The strength possessed by this creature was unreal, it slung me to the ground and began to reel me into its bush where it resided. I screamed, smacked the arm with the bat as hard as I could and then lost control of the bat. It fell next to me as I was dragged closer to the bush, now my feet were inside the leafy abyss. The voice turned into my mothers voice. The clawed hands grasp on me tightened with tremendous strength and the nails dug into my skin through my pants. “Help me Nathaniel. Your mother needs help. I can't walk.” Yeah alright. I shined my light into the bush. What I saw still makes me tremble. It was my dead mothers face there alright, but atop an ashy white skinned humanoid skeleton with backward joints. The arms bent unnaturally opposite of how they should, the legs were bent like a frogs ready to pounce. The eyes were milky white, but were extremely intelligent and they gazed into my consciousness. With all of my force, I horse kicked my deceased mothers face and heard a massive crunch as my heel connected with her masqueraded nose. A profane yelp of pain blasted into the darkness of this B.F.E. where I lived. The grip on my leg loosened just enough from the blow for me to break free. I shot upright and turned to the door. I dropped my flashlight in this madness and couldn’t give a shit less. It could keep it for all I fucking cared. I bolted towards the door, and as I reached the halfway point I was Illuminated by a blinding bright light from behind. Almost like a spotlight beamed right onto me. My. Fucking. God. That thing had my flashlight and was pointing it directly at me. “Helpp… Nathaniel. Help me son.” The light started to bob up and down. Whatever was holding it was lurking closer and closer to me, and was gaining on me much faster than I was to the door. So much for not being able to walk. I ended up winning the foot race miraculously. I jumped inside my door and slammed it behind me. I heard a loud thump into the door immediately following its closure. My mothers late voice came again, beckoning me. “Son. You know your mother has taught you better than this. Let me in. Please, my son.” The light shone through the window at me, blinding me. Seeing spots and now disoriented, I fumbled myself up and managed to lock the door. Max was at the furthest point possible from the door, glaring at the door trembling in fear. Three solid knocks from the top of the door frame. Then the light was gone and I heard a metallic clunk, the thing must have dropped the flashlight on its retreat. The light now was gleaming off a huge tree. I watched a tall skinny humanoid creature with long contorted ligaments jerkily run towards that tree. His legs bent opposite of how our legs do, and same with the arms. Then it bent down in the same erratic way that it moved, and got onto all fours as it approached the tree. It paused a second and peered up the trunk. His head swiftly snapped to my face. Its now black and sunken eyes stared into my soul. I froze in terror as it climbed that trunk, with its face directly bored into me mind you, like squirrel. Scurrying right up it, never leaving contact with my eyes. The light undoubtedly should be blinding his vision, but the sense of intelligence of it knowing my existence was uncanny. Light didnt hurt it. As it ascended it smiled at me, a predatory grin. It disappeared into a purple dot that was still in my vision from when I was blinded by the flashlight. As I moved my head to try to see the creature, I watched tree leaves russell and saw no more of it. Yet. I locked the doors that night and cleaned up Max’s accidents from not going out. At night as I was asleep, I was awoken by my mothers soft voice from right outside the bedroom window. “Let me in Nathaniel..” Then directly following this motherly imitation came a 10,000 lumen flashlight beamed into my face. I heard the window slowly open, but I was blinded by the light.