Ive been reading Punisher comics for a while now, trying to read them in order of publication. Up until Garth Ennis took the reigns with Vol 5.
I gotta say, his run is... Boring me to death. Up till now, mostly Punisher books were superb. Full of action, but had preparations, secret spying stuff (not exactly but lots of times Frank would go undercover for a time or assume fake identities to pass security or get info), he had Micro who added a lot and contrasted his personality and there was a deep human element.
With Ennis, it feels... Bland. No Micro. Soap is a miserable loser, unlikeable as they come and got worse and worse each time. Frank is just a killing machine, almost no inner monologue, war journals abandoned, moral questions out the window...
Yet whomever I ask, every one says the same - Garth Ennis' punisher is peak Punisher before and since. So, am I missing something here? Maybe another comic for context?

Hi all! I've been putting together a build for a family member to replace their ageing Dell OptiPlex 390 prebuild desktop PC.
It still works broadly fine with their usage, but it's an old system with an Intel i5-2400 3.1GHz, which is a Sandy Bridge CPU from around 2011. It's old enough that it maxes out at Windows 10, among other things, so it's time to get something current and reliable that should be good for another 5+ years at least.
This is most definitely not for gaming — purely a productivity desktop for web browsing, email and video consumption. It might be used for cutting some home video footage once in a blue moon, but that will be so rare that I think going with the integrated GPU on the CPU should be more than enough. If anyone has any thoughts on that front please do say.
I thought for quite a while about AM4 vs AM5, but in the end decided going with the more modern socket in AM5 was the way to go as, should future upgrades ever be needed, this would futureproof the build more than an older socket.
ECC is a big plus for this build, which is what has steered me to the non-G series AMD APUs, which although a bit beefier with their integrated graphics drop ECC support. I know ECC is a bit of a contested topic but as I'm building this for a non-techie user, I think a little extra stability is worth sacrificing some GPU performance. It also means that if extra graphics power is needed, I can just slot a dedicated graphics card at some future point into the build without sacrificing CPU performance with a slightly better iGPU.
I've left RAM off here as PCPartPicker doesn't like ECC RAM, which I'll be getting. Probably 32GB (2x16GB).
Is there anything I've forgotten that I need to include, like fans, etc? Anything I should change? This is my first PC build from scratch so I won't be offended if you point out that I've done something utterly dumb. Thank you!
(Budget is roughly £700, though I'm flexible here if something should be changed/added that's worthwhile. I'm in the UK.)
PCPartPicker Part List

Type	Item	Price
CPU	AMD Ryzen 5 7600 3.8 GHz 6-Core Processor	£182.99 @ Amazon UK
Motherboard	ASRock B650M Pro RS WiFi Micro ATX AM5 Motherboard	£144.66 @ NeoComputers
Storage	Solidigm P44 Pro 512 GB M.2-2280 PCIe 4.0 X4 NVME Solid State Drive	£59.99 @ AWD-IT
Case	Fractal Design Meshify 2 Compact Lite ATX Mid Tower Case	£79.98 @ Amazon UK
Power Supply	be quiet! Straight Power 11 750W 750 W 80+ Gold Certified Fully Modular ATX Power Supply	£114.99 @ AWD-IT
	Prices include shipping, taxes, rebates, and discounts
	Total	£582.61
	Generated by PCPartPicker 2024-05-19 10:36 BST+0100

here are a few of mine:
graphs may not be f(x), but instead transformations of f(x)
write EVERYTHING down algebraically, logic-ing things out tends to lead to silly mistakes even in easy questions, also draw figures, this alone saves needing like 10 extra tips to keep in mind.
look at the domain for those "write an equation thats y = 34x + 3" guys where theres a difference between x starting at zero and at a certain number. usually youll have to add the rate on x times that number to the entire thing to get like "f(x) = 34x + 37"
use desmos, its honestly amazing.
now for reading:
for logical word questions, try to pick one that doesnt add information and has the most direct justification. to help with this you can guess before you look at the answers so your not biased (helps for like 25% of the questions), and if your still stuck, just pick the most general, non opinionated sounding word.
also looking at the roots of words helps a lot too.
for the last questions, you dont even need to look at the bullet points. instead look for relation words that match the relation in the question. e.g. "student wants to show how 2 things are similar" first look for questions with 2 things, then look for "similar" relationship words like "both" or "similarly".
for transition words its the same thing, you should group them into relationship like "contrasting" "adding" "sequence" (this one is REALLY easy if you see 'finally" or "then" or "next" before or after). and if you see 2 in the same category, likely neither of them are the correct answer.
also try and guess the catagory before looking at the answer, i personally have gotten completely thrown off track because i looked at the answers first.
same thing with periods and semicolons, if you see both, neither of them are the right answer.
for colons, its usually correct if it answers a question posed about the previous sentence.
for subject verb, remember, prepositions dont count, and usually they use "of" prepositional phrases. also know that things inside two commas can be deleted and the sentence should be logically the same. and a sentence can start with a dependant clause and end with an independant one, and transitions always need commas and or periods surrounding them ". However, " ", however, " ", however.". also know the fanboys rule about connecting independent clauses.
for standard english ones, plug in and *read until the end of the sentence* ive gotten burned a couple times because i was being lazy and didnt read the entire thing.
look for dependant and independant clauses, and when in doubt, pick the option with the least grammar.
for data questions, cross out the answers that (if the question asks for it) dont support the author first, then verify with the data second.
for "function of the underlined portion" i find it helps if i litterally replace the answer i think it is and see if it makes sense in "idea".
also be REALLY sure of added information by the answers, anything sounding kindof opinionated should immediately raise red flags, same thing for author 1 and author 2 ones, usually the answer is justifiable and not an opinion or reaction, and instead some kind of restatement of something in the text, honestly thats most of the questions.
for the best supports argument ones, make sure it hits every point of their argument
for main purpose, its usually just a template / restating of the text.
also make sure to hit *every* point the question asks for
lastly when you have no clue, its best to pick the most minimal answer, least grammar, most general answer ime.
if any of yall disagree with something, or want to add anything, please let me know!

Hi. I am using MSI Afterburner and RivaTuner. The system I am using is Windows 11 Pro, updated to the latest version, so it is fully up to date. My drivers are also fully updated, downloaded from the manufacturers' websites. In MSI Afterburner, the GPU hotspot option is not available by default in the monitoring tab, but it can be added with the help of the HWInfo program, so I added it. In the MSI Afterburner monitoring tab, the hotspot entry does not appear, only in the HWInfo program, and I cannot move it to the GPU section. I can only change the hotspot name colour in HWInfo, but I cannot change the color value (temperature). How do I do this? Does anyone know? I am not very good at this.

My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach his its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.

We're FTB and pretty clueless.
We've put an offer in on a house we love, instructed our solicitor, and had a Homebuyer Survey Level 2 done.
The survey came back saying the house is of Laing Easiform construction and:
"The embedded reinforcement is vulnerable to corrosion with age, causing horizontal cracking to the external render. Hairline cracking of this kind is visible between the ground and first floor windows. The cracks are old and have been filled in the past. The old filler has deteriorated and is vulnerable to rainwater penetration."
After some research, I've concluded this is not a wise purchase and want to pull out. But I have questions...
Why did my mortgage lender not pick up on this when they did a valuation? I'm assuming if I want to continue with the purchase, I would have to inform them it's not of traditional construction and have them reassess my mortgage?
We're £2.5k out of pocket if we pull out. But what's to stop this from happening again? No one informed us it was not of traditional construction until our Homebuyer Survey. Is there a way to find this out BEFORE putting in an offer?
£2.5k is months of saving for us, and we're really bummed. We cannot afford for this to happen again.
Thanks

Hi Guys,
I have a Linux home server with casaos installed. I installed adguard home from the AppStore and followed a tutorial from YouTube to set it up with my Fritz!Box. I went into the ipv4 settings and under DHCP I set the local dns ip to the local ip of the server. In my case: 192.168.178.170 I looked at the ip config on my windows 11 pc and the dns was showing the correct ip address, but I kept getting ads. On my iphone, I manually changed it to the ip and the WiFi didn’t work on the phone anymore. The adguard home dashboard doesn’t show any connections. Can someone please tell me what I did wrong and how to fix it? I’m new to this field and I tried the whole last day to fix it.
Thank you in advance :)

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

What’s the Difference Between On-Page SEO and Off-Page SEO?

On-page SEO focuses on optimizing parts of your website that are within your control, while off-page SEO focuses on increasing the authority of your domain through content creation and earning backlinks from other websites. To further understand the difference between the two, you have to understand, at a basic level, how search engine algorithms work. Let’s break it down.
There are two main buckets that search engines (SEO) look at when evaluating your site compared to other sites on the web.

1. On-page SEO looks at what your site (or your page) is about
2. Off-page SEO looks at how authoritative and popular your site is

On-Page vs. Off-Page SEO: What’s the Difference?

Put simply, what you rank for is largely determined by on-page factors, while how high you rank in the search results is largely determined by off-page factors.

How Does Each Type of SEO Affect Your Rankings?

What is On-Page SEO?

On-page SEO (also known as “on-site” SEO) is the act of optimizing different parts of your website that affect your search engine rankings. Where your website appears in search engine results pages is determined by a number of ranking factors including site accessibility, page speed, optimized content, keywords, title tags, etc. On-page SEO is about optimizing the stuff that you have control over and can change on your own website.

On-page SEO checklist:

How do you make sure your on-page SEO tactics are up to snuff? Here is a helpful checklist for on-site optimizations that can help curate your strategy.

Title Tags

Put your targeted keywords in the title tag of each page on your site. There are many best practices that go into writing an effective title tag.

• Limit your title tags to 55-60 characters (including spaces)
• Push the keyword closer to the beginning of the title (ONLY if it sounds natural)
• Don’t stuff your keywords
• Include brand at the end of the title tag, separated by a pipe bar () Example: “Chicago SEO Digital Third Coast”

Headings (H1)

Headings are usually the largest words on the page, and for that reason, search engines give them a little more weight than your other page copy. It is a good idea to work your target keywords into the headings of each web page but make sure you accurately reflect your page’s great content.
Make sure your H1s limited to one per page, all other headers are H2 or H3

URL structure

Put keywords into your URLs if possible. However, do not go changing all of your current URLs just so they have keywords in them. You shouldn’t change old URLs unless you plan on redirecting your old ones to your new ones. Consult a professional before doing this.

• Label your directories and folders in a way that makes sense for users
• Don’t repeat keywords in your URL more than once. Keywords are helpful, but overdoing it effects user experience. Example: /best-socks-comparison-best-socks-best-socks?
• Keep URLs as short as possible

Alt text for images

Any content management system should allow you to add something called “alt text” to all images on your website. This text isn’t visible to the average visitor – alt text is in fact used by screen reader software to help blind internet users understand the content of your images. Search engines crawl images in a similar way, so inserting some relevant keywords while accurately describing the image will help search engines understand your page’s content.
Writing an alt attribute for each image keeps your website in compliance with WCAG (Web Content Accessibility Guidelines). Keep the following things in mind when writing alt text:

• Thoroughly describe the image in 8-10 words
• Include your targeted keyword where it sounds most natural
• Include, if relevant, a geo-locator (e.g., Chicago)

Fast-loading pages, or page load speed

Google wants to help its users find what they’re looking for as quickly as possible to provide the best user experience. Therefore, optimizing your pages to load faster helps your site rank higher in the search results.
Google has a tool called PageSpeed Insights that will analyze your site on both mobile and desktop. and then suggest tips to optimize page speed. There are also several quick fixes to eliminate whatever is bogging your site down and slowing your page load time. Key site speed factors to consider:

• Minimizing HTTP requests
• Making sure server response time is <200ms
• Setting browser caching to at least a week or longer
• Enabling Gzip compression
• Having image sizes under 100kb (.jpg, .png, .gif)
• Placing all CSS in an external style sheet
• Minifying all JS, CSS and HTML
• Prioritizing above the fold content loading

Mobile Friendliness

In recent years, Google has prioritized mobile page loading speed as a key ranking metric.
How do you know if your website is mobile-friendly? Unfortunately, Google recently dropped support for some free public tools that helped. However, you can now use Google Search Console to analyze this type of information. Specifically, the Core Web Vitals report can help you identify if your mobile pages are loading slower than they should be.

Page Content

The content on your pages needs to be useful to people. If they search for something too specific to find your page, they need to be able to find what they’re looking for. It needs to be easy to read and provide value to the end user. Google has various ways to measure if your content is useful.

• Aim for at least 500 words of copy. Although there is no exact formula for how many words a page should have, Google seems to prefer when a page has a lot of relevant and helpful content surrounding your topic.
• Copy must be unique to each page, not duplicated from other pages on your site, and should directly address your visitors’ search queries
• Push the keyword closer to the beginning of the title, but ONLY if it sounds natural

Internal Linking

Linking internally to other pages on your website is useful to visitors and it is also useful to search engines. Here’s an internal link to another blog post on our site that talks more about internal linking. Very meta.
When adding internal links, make sure to have relevant anchor text. Anchor text is the clickable text in a hyperlink (usually indicated by blue font color and underline). To optimize your anchor text, make sure the selected word or phrase is relevant to the page you’re linking to.
On-page SEO ensures that your site can be read by both potential customers and search engine robots. With good on-page SEO, search engines can easily index your web pages, understand what your site is about, and easily navigate the structure and content of your website, thus ranking your site accordingly. As a best practice, make sure your page content includes 1-3 relevant internal links.

Schema Markup

Adding structured data helps Google better understand the content of a page. Google also uses certain types of structured data to display “rich results” in SERPs such as a recipe with start ratings or step-by-step instructions with an image carousel. These rich results often appear at or near the top of SERPs and generally have higher click-through-rates than normal organic listings.
Google prefers structured data to use schema.org vocabulary, and recommends using JSON-LD format. They also provide a handy Rich Results Test tool to check your code. While there are a variety of ways to add structured data to your website (plugins, Google Tag Manager, etc.), it’s always best to get a professional involved if you’re not comfortable writing code.
Check out Google’s guide to structured data and rich results here.

Social Tags

Having your content shared on social tells Google that people find your content relevant, helpful and reputable. Not every page on your site is share-worthy, but you can optimize the pages that are with these tips:

• Make sure you have Open Graph tags and Twitter Cards installed
• Make it easy with “tweet this quote” links, or social share buttons for each post

Core Web Vitals

User experience is key to a website’s long-term success. In spring 2020, Google unveiled Core Web Vitals, a common set of signals that they deem “critical” to all users’ web experiences.
The purpose of these signals is to quantify the user experience with a website, from page visual stability and load time, to interactive experiences.

• Largest Contentful Paint (LCP) – measures perceived page loading speed and marks the point at which the majority of the page content has downloaded.
• First Input Delay – quantifies user experience of a user’s initial engagement with a page.
• Cumulative Layout Shift – quantifies the amount of layout shift on visible page content and measures visual stability of a page. It’s usually causes by images without dimensions, dynamically injected content, web fonts causing FOIT/FOUT, and other embeds added without dimensions.

To check your LCP score, access your Google PageSpeed Insights and make sure your page hits LCP within 2.5 seconds. To accomplish this, remove unnecessary third-party scripts that may be running, upgrading your web host, activating “lazy loading” so page elements load only as users scroll down the page, and remove any large page elements that may be slowing it down.
One of the simplest ways to optimize cumulative layout shift is to add height and width dimensions to each new site element. Also, avoid adding new content above existing content on a page (unless responding to user interaction).

Page Experience

Google is working on a new ranking signal (likely to come out in 2024) that prioritizes websites with positive user experiences.
The ‘page experience signal’ will consist of Core Web Vitals, plus mobile-friendliness, safe-browsing, HTTPS security, and intrusive interstitial guidelines.
According to Google, “optimizing for these factors makes the web more delightful for users across all web browsers and surfaces, and helps sites evolve towards user expectations on mobile. We believe this will contribute to business success on the web as users grow more engaged and can transact with less friction.”

What is Off-Page SEO?

Off-page SEO focuses on increasing the authority of your domain through the act of getting links from other websites.
A good analogy for how authority works is this. If you have a bathtub with rubber duckies in it (the ducks are your pages), and you start filling the tub with water (links), your duckies are all going to rise to the top.
This is how a site like Wikipedia ranks for pretty much everything under the sun. It has so much water in its bathtub that if you throw another rubber duck in it, it’s going to float to the top without any other effort.
There’s a score called “Domain Authority” that calculates how authoritative your website is compared to other sites. You can type your domain name into here to see your score.

How to optimize for off-page SEO

There are several factors that influence your off-page SEO rankings. While each one is tackled with different strategies, they share an overarching goal of building the trust and reputation of your website from the outside.

1. Inbound links
2. Social media marketing
3. Guest blogging and guest posting
4. Unlinked brand mentions
5. Influencer marketing

The biggest off-page SEO factor is the number and quality of backlinks to your website. Some examples of ways you can build links to your website are:

• Creating awesome content that people want to link to because it is valuable. For example, this super helpful blog post about how to improve about us pages. The post provides a ton of actionable recommendations. People tend to link to content that is useful. Creating an online tool for your industry is another powerful content type. Things like online calculators tend to get the most backlinks out of all content types because they help people accomplish a goal.
• Social media shares of your content that ultimately generate links.
• Outreach e-mails to influencers in your industry that ultimately link to you.
• Guest blogging on sites related to yours. These guest posts will have links back to your site.

While link quantity is still important, content creators and SEO professionals are realizing that link quality is now more important than link quantity. As such, creating shareable content is the first step to earning valuable links and improving your off-page SEO.
How many links do you need for good off-page SEO? That is a tough question and it’s going to be based on the domain authority of your competitors, as you want to make sure you’re playing in the same sandbox.
SEOs also used to believe that buying links was a valid way of link building; however, Google will now penalize you for buying links in an attempt to manipulate page rank. You can also be penalized for submitting your links to link directories whose sole purpose is to increase your domain authority. Again, quality wins out over quantity when it comes to link building.

Is On-Page or Off-Page SEO More Important?

It’s not about choosing between on and off-page SEO, that would be like having to choose between a foundation or a roof for your house. On-page and off-page SEO work together to improve your search engine rankings in a complementary fashion.
However, SEOs generally advise getting your on-page SEO ducks in a row before focusing too much on off-page SEO.
Just like building a house, you want to set the foundation first before building the rest of the house. Like a foundation, you may need to come back and do some maintenance to your on-page SEO from time to time. Balancing the two will help make your website “bilingual” so that your users can understand it as well as the search engine robots- and that’s how your rankings start to improve.

SEO #onpageseo #Offpageseo #Corewebvitals

Recently I've been testing a few web/lite apps creators available on the Play Store. I enjoy navigating web pages on a nice and clean full screen interface, but more often than not native apps are choke-full of visual garbage and/or ads.
For now I've been using a competitor app which is a little barebone of features but gets the job done. I found out Hermit by chance and installed it thinking 'wow, look at all those advanced features'.
The problem is that i use system-wide swipe gestures AND i want to use fullscreen & frameless mode for maximum immersion. When i do that, there is no way for me to open up the settings or the bookmarks, since the system gestures ovverride the app gestures used to open those functions.
So i just can't use all the advanced features of the app in a comfortable way. For the settings I have to go back on the main app screen and click on the gear icon there, which is really annoying, and i still can't access the bookmarks.
Even the 'barebone' app I was using before has a small, non intrusive, semi-transparent button appear on top of the screen when navigating in fullscreen mode. If you click that button, the setting window opens up. How is it possible that this app has all these advanced features while lacking something so basic?

I live in southern Texas and I'm beginning to prepare for hurricane season, but our main problem here is when the power goes out it gets ridiculously hot inside the home. So my idea is to buy a cheap-o window AC unit like this ( amazon ) for the sole purpose of using it to power a singular room during power outages via portable generator.
The biggest question I ask for those who have done something similar is both how easy is it to install and remove as I DO NOT want it to be a permanent setup ( it will sit in storage until is necessary ). Adding to that I would not like to do any physical changes to my home such as drilling holes, installing mounts, etc.
Is this idea even possible / good? or should I just get one of those portable AC units which I've heard aren't as efficient and cost more.
TLDR: Possible to have a window AC unit for power outages only but without installation damage to home?

So first things first, its pirated. I found it in an archive site. So there was an iso file and a fix to play it in windows xp when i installed it and played it there was no music just SFX but there was another folder that had the audio when i put the audio in the game folder nothing changed. But i found some answers on the internet. There was a folder called GAME in the iso file. I put the audio files in there and converted the iso file to bin and cue. i mounted the "cue" file in to a virtual cd drive and installed it. And it did install the audio files with it. But still no music. So does anybody have a solution for this?