Tender red spot on scalp
Alopecia Areata
2012.06.14 00:49 globalalopecia Alopecia Areata
Alopecia areata, also known as spot baldness, is an autoimmune disease in which hair is lost from some or all areas of the body. Small spots most commonly occur on the scalp and usually grow back within a year. A very small percentage of cases spread to the entire scalp (alopecia totalis) or to the entire body (alopecia universalis).
2013.04.10 17:07 drumcowski Paid for WinRAR
A list of true heroes.
2015.02.26 17:37 A place to call home for folks who grow mushrooms!
MushroomGrowers is a supportive community of amateurs and professionals from around the world collaborating on mushroom cultivation.
2024.05.19 21:18 DustbinOverlord Is this Wolf’s Milk or Coral Spot Fungus?
 | Little round vesicles, about 5mm across at the moment, growing on pressure treated wood above gravel in a woodland garden. They’re south facing but in dappled shade so not really any direct sun. I’m in Warwickshire, UK, and it’s been about 18 centigrade here lately. It rained a couple of days ago but I don’t know how long they’ve been there. I accidentally popped one by moving a leaf it was partially attached to (sorry little guy), and there was bright red/orange goo inside (similar to the colour of the vesicles in the 3rd picture). I can’t find any information about what the inside of a coral spot looks like, and people say the inside of wolf’s milk blobs is bright pink so I’m at a loss. submitted by DustbinOverlord to Slimemolds [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 21:12 Chai_Ky The Case of Kate Blackwell: The Unknown Part 1
11/20/2017
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
The past couple of days are events I pray no one else ever has to go through what Kate and I had. I had her and Mr. Raines cleared of all charges, having found the proof we all needed to end this case and find the true killer. Kate no longer has to go into witness protection and I had given the police a good enough lie to keep myself from looking insane in the eyes of my co-workers. I know no one will ever know the true story or believe it, but I’m writing it out here. It at least needs to be known written somewhere. Even if my and Kate’s eyes are the only ones that will ever read it written out and forever imprinted in our memories.
The morning Kate had run off to the mountains on her own, I had made my way to the Blackwell home where I was immediately met with Mr. Blackwell charging at me and wrapping his large hands around my neck. He was shaking me and blaming me for getting his daughter killed and not doing more to keep her safe. The police who had been called to examine the scene and read Kate’s letter had to sedate Mr. Blackwell to get him off of me, lying him down on the couch, his head resting on Mrs. Blackwell’s legs. Though the woman was distraught and begging the police to bring her daughter back, she still took the time to shoot that cold, death glare my way. The ice in my chest growing. I couldn’t tell these people that this thing had come after me to get to Kate. I knew it wouldn’t change anything. If anything they’d hate me even more for keeping it to myself.
The sheriff was there and he pulled me away from eye sight of the Blackwells, trying to tell me that this wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t help but blame myself. I should have done everything I could to keep Kate as far from those mountains as possible.
There were no signs of a struggle in Kate’s room and the letter was definitely written in her hand writing. Her father’s rifle missing from the study, a backpack and some food and supplies gone as well. She had only grabbed one set of clothes from her drawers, showing she did indeed have plans on returning after only one night in the mountains to confront whoever or whatever the killer was.
I told the sheriff to keep any police from going up to the mountains without first allowing me to go up there first to find Kate. He of course argued, telling me that he couldn’t break protocol based on any hunches I may have had. However, I told him that I could get Kate back without her putting up much of a fight, whereas she may struggle with a group of cops who didn’t understand the situation she was in. I was close enough to this case to have built a trust with her after all. I was mentioned in her letter about ending this case for me.
It took a good hour to get the sheriff to eye the Blackwells, Mr. Blackwell beginning to stir from his sleep, and allow me to go to the mountains to find Kate. He didn’t bother to call off the search to the police that had already begun making their way to the mountains, but did radio to tell them to not try getting Kate home without first allowing me to speak to her. He then gave me twenty-four hours to find her to which I told him I’d only need at most ten.
Without telling him about the disturbing scratches on my car, I sped to the mountains, taking the same path Kate had that day she took her friends on their trip. The route, as the sun began to rise was scenic. A drive that may have been a sign of a bright future ahead with a beautiful week in the mountains of nothing but nature, was now a reddening sky of horror. I couldn’t understand how Kate felt, going down the same roads that led to her only friends’ fates to avenge them, but the feeling of guilt did weigh heavy on my chest as I saw the signs of the Appalachian Mountain trails grow bigger on the horizon. Guilt for not doing more to prove Kate was innocent, for allowing Mrs. Mayfield for getting killed right before my very eyes, and for Liam for not being lucky enough to save him.
When I finally arrived to the cabin, there didn’t seem to be any change since the first day I was called to the crime scene, the only thing out of place being Mr. Blackwell’s truck parked precariously near the cabin. The police tape was still up, the cars of Kate and Mr. Woolfe still left where they were, the tires still slashed, the door wide open from when Kate, Ms. Greymoore, and Mr. Woolfe ran out of the cabin upon Mr. Billings was killed by an unknown force. All the bodies had been found and were now being prepared by their families to be buried or cremated. Only one body of the five still roaming around to avenge each and every one of their deaths.
I called out for Kate as I made my way into the cabin. The Ouija board was still on the coffee table, the white line of where Mr. Billings had been found lying face first on the floor with his head bashed open remained on the spot. The planchette was still missing. I kept calling out for Kate as I made my way up to the attic, the door left unlocked, using my flashlight to shine down on the white outline where Mr. Steele had been found completely torn apart. To think Kate had done such a thing, I now realize made me look like a complete dumb ass for believing it.
When I couldn’t find Kate in the cabin, I made my way out the cabin, still calling for her. I called out to her, promising that she just needed to come back home with me and we could solve the murders together. I knew it was a lie and that the sheriff would immediately have her take away to some secluded place where the killer couldn’t find her, but it was all I could think of to try luring her out to meet me. Still, she never appeared.
The sun was soon beginning to set as I tried retracing the very steps Kate and Ms. Greymoore had taken to outrun the killer. I had passed the small shrine of flowers and the pictures of Mr. Woolfe where the boy had been found, his face permanently remaining nineteen forever in the photos of him with Kate and their friends. I kept going, trying my best to follow the same path to the cliff where Ms. Greymoore was found, calling for Kate along the way.
It wasn’t until I found the place Kate had buried her best friend that I found Kate. She was on her knees before the rock where she left her bloody handprint, sniffing as her head was lowered, her dad’s rifle in her hands.
“Ms. Blackwell-“ I began as I took a step toward her. I was immediately cut off as Kate jumped to her feet, raising her father’s rifle at my head. I jolted back, raising my hands up to show her I meant no harm to her. “Ms. Blackwell, it’s me, Det. Snow!”
“Detective…?” She gasped, slightly lowering the rifle, but keeping it on me. “P-Prove it!”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I… I thought I saw Sonja…” Kate breathed between tears, the rifle shaking in her hands, “it… It was wearing her face… It had her voice… How… H-How do I know you’re really Det. Snow?”
“You… Saw Sonja?” I asked as gently as I could with a terrified woman pointing a gun my way. “She spoke to you?”
“Prove you’re Det. Snow!” Kate demanded as she stilled her arms, readying the rifle as she pointed straight between my eyes.
“Alright! Alright!” I kept my hands up, backing up slightly as I tried thinking of how I could prove to her I was really me. “I… I, ah… I have… Had a brother… We went to get ice cream together once and… I dropped a dime and went to grab it… I was five… I followed it out to the road and despite how trafficked it was, I didn’t get hit. I grabbed the dime just as a truck was speeding my way and it swerved just before hitting me… Seeing how close I was to death, I dropped the dime and it rolled into the sewer. My brother called me Lucky Dime since then… Saying the dime was lost to me because it did its job in protecting me… I haven’t seen my brother since I was seven and I haven’t spoken to my parents in…” I looked at my watch. “Five years… No one else calls me Lucky Dime… Not even the people at the station know that was my nickname.”
With this, Kate lowered the rifle, her eyes softening from her furious fear to a more melancholy terror. She looked to Ms. Greymoore’s grave marker, her hand print just barely visible In the approaching darkness.
“It… It looked just… Like her…” She sniffed, “it had her voice… Why did it have her voice… Why did it look like her…?”
“Ms. Blackwell,” I soothed, relaxing now that there was no weapon in my face, “we need to head back, your parents are worried about you and the police are looking for-“
“I can’t go back yet!” She snapped at me as she spun to look at me, tears in her eyes. “That thing is still out there and will kill again unless I end it!” She held up her dad’s rifle as if to show me how she meant to “end it.” “I’m not leaving until I end that… Thing that had the balls to wear Sonja’s face and have her voice!”
“Ms. Blackwell, we will catch the killer, I promise, but right now, we need to get you home before your dad ends up killing a police officer for keeping him from looking for you.”
“I told him in my letter I’d be back tomorrow! I’m twenty-years-old, he can’t force me back home if I don’t want to! I just want to stop this thing before it-“
A howling in the distance cut Kate off. Coyote from what I could hear. If I couldn’t get Kate home, I’d have to get her somewhere safe. I turned to begin talking her down and taking her to one of the other two cabins for shelter. However, when I looked back at her, her face had turned to a bone chilling terror I’d never seen on a person before. She looked like hunted prey that had been found by its predator. She gripped her dad’s rifle to her chest tightly, her hand reaching for the trigger.
“Ms. Blackwell, it’s just a pack of coyote,” I tried telling her calmly, “let’s get to one of the other cabins and-“
“No, no, no,” She stopped me as she stepped back, looking around for where the howling was coming from, “I… Heard that same howling just before I saw Sonja! I thought it was far away, but she… She was right in front of me… She… Something was off, but it looked just like her!”
“Ms. Blackwell, you didn’t see Sonja,” I assured her, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t-“
“Lucky… Dime…”
I froze. My blood turned to ice. The fear on Kate’s face grew as she began backing away, her back hitting the grave marker. I spun around to see a figure in the darkness limp toward us, a scratched and garbled familiar voice coming from it.
“Lucky… Dime…” It wheezed, “You brought her… Back… Give her… To me…”
I whipped out my gun, pointing it at this thing that had his voice. I stepped back to stand directly between this thing and Kate.
“Stay back!” I demanded. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Lucky… Di-“
“Shut up! Stop calling me that! Who are you? Not another step or I’ll shoot!”
The thing stopped limping toward us, its body shuddering in place as it stared us down. I took the safety off of my Glock, ready to blow this thing’s head off if it got any closer or even dared using that voice on me again.
“Kate…” It turned its attention to Kate, a completely different voice coming from it, another male’s voice. “Kate… I’m cold…”
“J-Jasper…” Kate began to sob, “Please, stop using their voices… Please stop!”
“Kate… Kate why did… Did you leave me…?” Another male voice asked. “I… I was in so much… Pain…”
“Shut up!” Kate cried out.
“I thought we… Were friends… Kate…” A female voice. “You said you… Loved me… Why won’t… You let me have… Your warmth…?”
“I said shut up!” Kate screamed as she pointed her rifle and shooting at the creature. She had missed, but the thing still let out an ear piercing shriek as it dodged out of the way of the bullets Kate was shooting. It ran off into the darkness, but Kate kept pulling the trigger of her rifle.
“Stop!” I shouted as I snatched the barrel of her rifle, shoving it to the ground before us. “It’s gone, you scared it off, get to the cabins, I’m right here with you!”
I began shoving Kate back toward where the cabins were, the sounds of that thing screaming out in a symphony of different voices ringing out throughout the woods. I shoved Kate into the first cabin we had arrived to, Cabin #1 I could only assume as I slammed the door shut behind us. It smelled God awful, like the smell of the corpse I found on my first murder case, and it was getting darker as the sun began to sink behind the trees outside.
“Detective, it smell terrible in here!” Kate cried out, covering her mouth and nose, but the tears still falling from her eyes were still visible as they rolled down her cheeks.
I pulled her close and kept her behind me as I took my gun and flashlight out. “Stay close to me,” I ordered, leading the way through the cabin, “do not run off or use that rifle without may say so, understood?”
Kate didn’t answer, but I could feel the heat from her body following after me as I made my toward the smell. It was getting worse as we inched closer to a closet door in a hallway that connected the living room to the kitchen. The door was locked, but after a couple of kicks I was able to get the door to swing open, the smell blasting us in our faces making us gag and nearly throw up on the floor. I fumbled around the sides inside the room to find a light switch that I was able to find to the side of the entryway. A yellow light flickered on, revealing the door led to a staircase. I led the way down the creaking steps, Kate close by as she kept her mouth covered with her shirt.
Once we had made our way to the bottom, Kate dropped her dad’s rifle and let out a scream as we stared at what was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. In a large pile at the corner of this basement room were nothing but skin and bones of humans and animals covered in maggots and flies. Some of the human bodies being small and child-like in size. The missing people who were never found after vanishing when they came to Cabin #2.
I grabbed Kate’s rifle off the floor and began pushing her back up the stairs, her screaming and sobbing all the way back up to the cabin. I slammed the door shut behind us and pushed Kate to the front door.
“We need to leave,” I had told her, trying to calm her down as we made it outside, “we need to get you home and away from here as soon as possible.”
“N-No… No!” She began fighting me, trying to escape my grasp on her. “No! That… That thing is still out there! You saw it! You can’t say you don’t believe me now! It even called you Lucky Dime! It said you brought me back!”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you!” I shot back. “I do, I saw exactly what you saw, but it’s way too dangerous for you to be out here while you’re the one it’s after!”
“I escaped it once, I can do it again!” Kate pointed out as she struggled against me while I tried getting her into my car. “I’m not running away this time, I want to kill it!”
“God damn it, Blackwell, we’ll let the police handle it! Just because you have a weapon doesn’t make you safe or ready to handle something like… Like that… That thing!”
“It killed my friends! It wants me! I’m going straight to it so I can blow its head off! It’ll come right for me!”
“I came here to bring you back home, not let you accomplish some stupid ass revenge plot! Get in the fucking car, unless you want to end up like those bodies down that-“
“D… De… Detect… Detective…”
A scratched and moaning voice cut me off. Kate and I both froze at the sound of something approaching. I turned to see a police officer stagger toward us from the tree line. I could barely tell who he was or who he used to be, his head held low and blue uniform covered in blood.
“H… Hel… Hel… Help… Help me…" It croaked as it stumbled closer.
I held up Kate's rifle. "Stay back!" I barked. "Not another step!"
The thing that stood before us wearing the cop like a full-bodied suit stopped in place. It swayed where it stood, blood water falling from its head and down to its chest.
"It… It… It's inside… Inside me…" It breathed painfully. "I… I can't… Help… Me…" Its voice then changed to that familiar voice that made my skin crawl. "Lucky… Dime… I… I'm so… Hungry… Give her… To… Me…"
I pulled the trigger of the rifle, hitting the creature in the head, the rest of it staggering backward from the blow. Still though, it remained on its feet, turning itself to look toward us once again.
"Give… Her… To… Me…" It wheeze, blood and brain pouring from where I had shot it, it beginning to stumble toward us once again. I continued shooting, hitting it in the shoulder, the arm, the leg, the head again, but it just kept coming toward us faster, demanding I give Kate to it.
I was about ready to ram it with the rifle, having run out of bullets, when a voice off in the distance made the creature freeze just an inch before us.
"I'm here! I'm here!" It called out in an almost sing-songy way, using the voice of a little girl. "I'm here! I'm here!"
"I'm… Here…" The creature repeated as it jerked its body to look to where the voice was coming from. "I'm here… I'm here… I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!" It began shrieking in a high pitch wail. It sounded like a mixture of different voices ranging from child, to woman, to man. Keeping flat on its feet, its upper body fell forward onto its hands before speedily crawling off like a spider.
We stood in shaking silence for a moment, Kate digging her fingers into my arm while I was too numb from shock to care about the pain she was unknowingly inflicting. It wasn’t until the radio from my car buzzed to life that jolted us back to whatever reality was at this point. I scrambled to the driver’s side, swinging the door open as I fell inside to grab the intercom to respond to the voice yelling for me over the receiver.
“Det. Snow, what the hell is going on up there?” The sheriff’s scratched voice called out over the receiver when I could barely get my name out of my mouth.
“Sh-Sh-Sheriff…?” Was all I could respond with, still trying to wrap my head around what I had just seen.
“Y-Y-Yeah,” he responded in mock shudder, “what the hell is going on up there? I’ve tried radioing every man I’ve got up there and am constantly being left on red! Do I need to send back-up?”
“No!” Immediately, I returned to full reality, finally understanding the severity of the moment and putting that knowledge into my tone. “Landon, do not send any more men up here, call everyone back immediately! I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s too dangerous! Call everyone back, we’re heading back to the Blackwell house now!”
“We?” The sheriff questioned, skepticism in his voice.
“I found Ms. Blackwell, she’s here with me.”
I was met with statice before the voice of Mr. Blackwell blasted over the intercom.
“Bring my daughter home, right now, you son of a bitch!” Mr. Blackwell demanded. “You bring her home this instant before I decide to kick your teeth in!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the radio was snatched from my hand from Kate. “I’m not coming home until I kill this thing!” She snapped into the radio. “I don’t know what it is, but I at least know I’m not crazy and that it needs to die before it kills anyone else!”
I grabbed the radio from Kate’s hand, beginning to tell her off when a agonized scream erupted from the intercom. I dropped the radio to cover my ears as Kate did, the scream piercing from my car to throughout the forest around us. The voice screaming and crying for help sounded male and it seemed to echo all around us.
“GIVE HER TO ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” A mix of the screaming voice and Mr. Blackwell’s hissed out after a good five minutes of screaming before the radio short-circuited and puffs of smoke flowed out.
After allowing my ears to adjust to the sudden silence, I grabbed the radio once again and tried calling for the sheriff, for the cops with us in the mountains, for anyone. When I was met with more silence, I slammed the radio back down on the holder and cursed loudly, hitting the wheel as if it were the source of all my problems.
After a moment to take some deep breaths, I told Kate to get in the car as I placed her rifle in the back seat.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she shot back. “I’m not-“
“Damn it, Blackwell, we have no idea what we’re dealing with, it can mimic peoples’ voices, and it just ran off like a fucking black widow!” I snapped, stepping out of the driver’s seat to glare down at her. “The last thing I’m doing to leaving you here alone and I’m not staying here another second until I can wrap my head around what the fuck I just saw! So, you either get yourself killed out here while I try talking you down this hero complex high, or you’re going to do what I say and get in the damn car!”
We stood in heated silence, glaring each other down before Kate huffed and stormed over to the passenger side of my car and slamming the door shut as she climbed in. I jumped in after her and began driving away from this nutty nightmare I had found myself in.
We drove down the trail back to civilization in silence, Kate staring out the window and trying to keep her tearful sniffs quiet. I had finally begun calming down and was starting to feel bad for snapping at her. She had only gone there to avenge her friends by killing that thing that had most likely killed a whole bunch of cops to find her. However, I still couldn’t just let her stay to hunt it and I didn’t want to stay out in those mountains with some kind of creature that could take the form and voice of someone I knew. I still couldn’t understand what is was I had even seen.
“Wendigo,” Kate whispered, breaking the silence in the car first. She had said it as if she had just remembered something important.
“What?”
“A Wendigo,” She repeated, turning to look to me with wide scared eyes, “that’s what that thing is! It’s a Wendigo!”
“Slow down, what’s a Wendigo?”
“It’s… Oh, just forget it! You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Ms. Blackwell, I just saw a cop being used as a puppet and then run off at inhuman speed on all fours; I doubt I’m not going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth now. What’s a Wendigo?”
Kate eyed me for a moment before releasing some of the tension from her face as she took a deep breath and began explaining to me. “They’re a Native American myth; it’s believed they’re the spirits of people who would lose themselves in the woods and would end up eating other people to satiate their hunger. I think that’s what that thing is. They can mimic the voices of people who died and use it to lure people to them, they can take the form of that person too.”
“Why does it want female hearts?” I asked, not realizing I had yet told her what my mysterious caller kept asking for when they called me.
“It… It wants my heart?” she asked shakily.
I cursed to myself before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I think this thing wants hearts, but it only wants female hearts. Why? I don’t know yet. But the only other person to be found after killing someone in those cabins was found with his partner’s heart missing to which he was blamed for taking out of her. Recently, I’ve been getting calls from some… Thing wanting me to bring you back here so it could take something from you. It would have taken Ms. Greymoore’s, but you hid her well enough that only the police could find her in time. Now, I’ve been getting calls asking for you and to get something from you.”
Kate looked to me in shock before a wave of guilt twisted her face in pain. “I… I’m so, so… So sorry, Detective!” She cried out. “I… I had… I had no idea you were being… Harassed by it! Had I known it wanted me back and was demanding you brought me here, I never… I didn’t… That’s why it said you brought me back! Oh, I’m such an idiot!” She pressed her hands to her face, grabbing at her hair between her fingers and tightening them around her eyes.
“No, no, no, stop, stop that!” I ordered, screeching the car to a halt, having to bring it to a crooked stop so I could stop her from hurting herself. I snatched her arms from her head and pinned them to her lap, tears flooding her face. “It’s my fault for not telling you sooner! I was too focused on trying to solve this case with the most efficient evidence I could, but that just kept me looking to you as a suspect. I should have stopped thinking you were the killer the moment I got that first call. There’s no way any of us could have seen… This coming… Except people who probably already believe in that kind of stuff or don’t stop to assume a more rational explanation like a cult… I’m… I’m sorry. But, I won’t let it take anything from you, not anymore. I’m going to get you home and then I’ll deal with this with the rest of the police department. You don’t have to deal with this thing anymore, it’ll be my burden from now on. You need time to finally get some rest and mourn your friends with your and their families. It’s already fucked your life up enough, I won’t let it go on making it worse.”
I stopped her before she could argue with me with a wave of my hand. “Your friends’ deaths shouldn’t be your burden to handle. I know you want to be the one who kills that thing and do right by them, but that’s not what they would want. They’d want you to remember them and continue living. They know you didn’t do it, so stop blaming yourself and stop acting like you’re the one who has to make it up to them. I will put an end to this die trying, but you need to go home and be with people who are happy you still get to live.”
Kate looked down at her hands that I kept down on her lap before nodding weakly and letting out a broken “okay.”
“Good, now let’s get you home before-“
My words were cut off when the honk of a car barreling toward us echoed through the woods. The headlights were fast approaching and I barely had time to grab the gear shift to put us back in drive as the other vehicle hit us, forcing us back and forth in one violent motion. It took me a moment to check myself to be sure I hadn’t hit my head on anything or got whiplash from the crash before I immediately returned my full attention to Kate who was kneeling over holding her head. I gently grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up to examine her head. It didn’t appear to have been busted and bleeding, but she was holding the front side of her forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, prying her hand away from the spot on her forehead, seeing that it was beginning to bruise. “Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can understand me!”
“I… I’m f-fine…” she mumbled as she looked to her hand to check if there was blood on her palm, “I… I think I just… Hit… Hit the w-window…” She then blinked twice in my direction before looking to the car that had rammed us.
I turned my attention as well to the car to see it was a police van, it’s front crushed into the left of my front. I quickly jumped out my vehicle and stormed to the van, yelling at who ever was driving the van to come out and explain what the hell they were doing.
The driver’s side of the van swung open once I was near enough and a man in an orange jumpsuit climbed out, staring familiar daggers at me. The moment realization set in, my mixed emotions of confusion, frustration, and fear turned to fury.
It was Leighton Raines.
“Jesus, you really are a shitty detective.” Was all he said to me before reaching into the can and retrieving a rifle out from the passenger seat.
[END OF PART 1]
Part 6
submitted by Chai_Ky to u/Chai_Ky [link] [comments]
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
The past couple of days are events I pray no one else ever has to go through what Kate and I had. I had her and Mr. Raines cleared of all charges, having found the proof we all needed to end this case and find the true killer. Kate no longer has to go into witness protection and I had given the police a good enough lie to keep myself from looking insane in the eyes of my co-workers. I know no one will ever know the true story or believe it, but I’m writing it out here. It at least needs to be known written somewhere. Even if my and Kate’s eyes are the only ones that will ever read it written out and forever imprinted in our memories.
The morning Kate had run off to the mountains on her own, I had made my way to the Blackwell home where I was immediately met with Mr. Blackwell charging at me and wrapping his large hands around my neck. He was shaking me and blaming me for getting his daughter killed and not doing more to keep her safe. The police who had been called to examine the scene and read Kate’s letter had to sedate Mr. Blackwell to get him off of me, lying him down on the couch, his head resting on Mrs. Blackwell’s legs. Though the woman was distraught and begging the police to bring her daughter back, she still took the time to shoot that cold, death glare my way. The ice in my chest growing. I couldn’t tell these people that this thing had come after me to get to Kate. I knew it wouldn’t change anything. If anything they’d hate me even more for keeping it to myself.
The sheriff was there and he pulled me away from eye sight of the Blackwells, trying to tell me that this wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t help but blame myself. I should have done everything I could to keep Kate as far from those mountains as possible.
There were no signs of a struggle in Kate’s room and the letter was definitely written in her hand writing. Her father’s rifle missing from the study, a backpack and some food and supplies gone as well. She had only grabbed one set of clothes from her drawers, showing she did indeed have plans on returning after only one night in the mountains to confront whoever or whatever the killer was.
I told the sheriff to keep any police from going up to the mountains without first allowing me to go up there first to find Kate. He of course argued, telling me that he couldn’t break protocol based on any hunches I may have had. However, I told him that I could get Kate back without her putting up much of a fight, whereas she may struggle with a group of cops who didn’t understand the situation she was in. I was close enough to this case to have built a trust with her after all. I was mentioned in her letter about ending this case for me.
It took a good hour to get the sheriff to eye the Blackwells, Mr. Blackwell beginning to stir from his sleep, and allow me to go to the mountains to find Kate. He didn’t bother to call off the search to the police that had already begun making their way to the mountains, but did radio to tell them to not try getting Kate home without first allowing me to speak to her. He then gave me twenty-four hours to find her to which I told him I’d only need at most ten.
Without telling him about the disturbing scratches on my car, I sped to the mountains, taking the same path Kate had that day she took her friends on their trip. The route, as the sun began to rise was scenic. A drive that may have been a sign of a bright future ahead with a beautiful week in the mountains of nothing but nature, was now a reddening sky of horror. I couldn’t understand how Kate felt, going down the same roads that led to her only friends’ fates to avenge them, but the feeling of guilt did weigh heavy on my chest as I saw the signs of the Appalachian Mountain trails grow bigger on the horizon. Guilt for not doing more to prove Kate was innocent, for allowing Mrs. Mayfield for getting killed right before my very eyes, and for Liam for not being lucky enough to save him.
When I finally arrived to the cabin, there didn’t seem to be any change since the first day I was called to the crime scene, the only thing out of place being Mr. Blackwell’s truck parked precariously near the cabin. The police tape was still up, the cars of Kate and Mr. Woolfe still left where they were, the tires still slashed, the door wide open from when Kate, Ms. Greymoore, and Mr. Woolfe ran out of the cabin upon Mr. Billings was killed by an unknown force. All the bodies had been found and were now being prepared by their families to be buried or cremated. Only one body of the five still roaming around to avenge each and every one of their deaths.
I called out for Kate as I made my way into the cabin. The Ouija board was still on the coffee table, the white line of where Mr. Billings had been found lying face first on the floor with his head bashed open remained on the spot. The planchette was still missing. I kept calling out for Kate as I made my way up to the attic, the door left unlocked, using my flashlight to shine down on the white outline where Mr. Steele had been found completely torn apart. To think Kate had done such a thing, I now realize made me look like a complete dumb ass for believing it.
When I couldn’t find Kate in the cabin, I made my way out the cabin, still calling for her. I called out to her, promising that she just needed to come back home with me and we could solve the murders together. I knew it was a lie and that the sheriff would immediately have her take away to some secluded place where the killer couldn’t find her, but it was all I could think of to try luring her out to meet me. Still, she never appeared.
The sun was soon beginning to set as I tried retracing the very steps Kate and Ms. Greymoore had taken to outrun the killer. I had passed the small shrine of flowers and the pictures of Mr. Woolfe where the boy had been found, his face permanently remaining nineteen forever in the photos of him with Kate and their friends. I kept going, trying my best to follow the same path to the cliff where Ms. Greymoore was found, calling for Kate along the way.
It wasn’t until I found the place Kate had buried her best friend that I found Kate. She was on her knees before the rock where she left her bloody handprint, sniffing as her head was lowered, her dad’s rifle in her hands.
“Ms. Blackwell-“ I began as I took a step toward her. I was immediately cut off as Kate jumped to her feet, raising her father’s rifle at my head. I jolted back, raising my hands up to show her I meant no harm to her. “Ms. Blackwell, it’s me, Det. Snow!”
“Detective…?” She gasped, slightly lowering the rifle, but keeping it on me. “P-Prove it!”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I… I thought I saw Sonja…” Kate breathed between tears, the rifle shaking in her hands, “it… It was wearing her face… It had her voice… How… H-How do I know you’re really Det. Snow?”
“You… Saw Sonja?” I asked as gently as I could with a terrified woman pointing a gun my way. “She spoke to you?”
“Prove you’re Det. Snow!” Kate demanded as she stilled her arms, readying the rifle as she pointed straight between my eyes.
“Alright! Alright!” I kept my hands up, backing up slightly as I tried thinking of how I could prove to her I was really me. “I… I, ah… I have… Had a brother… We went to get ice cream together once and… I dropped a dime and went to grab it… I was five… I followed it out to the road and despite how trafficked it was, I didn’t get hit. I grabbed the dime just as a truck was speeding my way and it swerved just before hitting me… Seeing how close I was to death, I dropped the dime and it rolled into the sewer. My brother called me Lucky Dime since then… Saying the dime was lost to me because it did its job in protecting me… I haven’t seen my brother since I was seven and I haven’t spoken to my parents in…” I looked at my watch. “Five years… No one else calls me Lucky Dime… Not even the people at the station know that was my nickname.”
With this, Kate lowered the rifle, her eyes softening from her furious fear to a more melancholy terror. She looked to Ms. Greymoore’s grave marker, her hand print just barely visible In the approaching darkness.
“It… It looked just… Like her…” She sniffed, “it had her voice… Why did it have her voice… Why did it look like her…?”
“Ms. Blackwell,” I soothed, relaxing now that there was no weapon in my face, “we need to head back, your parents are worried about you and the police are looking for-“
“I can’t go back yet!” She snapped at me as she spun to look at me, tears in her eyes. “That thing is still out there and will kill again unless I end it!” She held up her dad’s rifle as if to show me how she meant to “end it.” “I’m not leaving until I end that… Thing that had the balls to wear Sonja’s face and have her voice!”
“Ms. Blackwell, we will catch the killer, I promise, but right now, we need to get you home before your dad ends up killing a police officer for keeping him from looking for you.”
“I told him in my letter I’d be back tomorrow! I’m twenty-years-old, he can’t force me back home if I don’t want to! I just want to stop this thing before it-“
A howling in the distance cut Kate off. Coyote from what I could hear. If I couldn’t get Kate home, I’d have to get her somewhere safe. I turned to begin talking her down and taking her to one of the other two cabins for shelter. However, when I looked back at her, her face had turned to a bone chilling terror I’d never seen on a person before. She looked like hunted prey that had been found by its predator. She gripped her dad’s rifle to her chest tightly, her hand reaching for the trigger.
“Ms. Blackwell, it’s just a pack of coyote,” I tried telling her calmly, “let’s get to one of the other cabins and-“
“No, no, no,” She stopped me as she stepped back, looking around for where the howling was coming from, “I… Heard that same howling just before I saw Sonja! I thought it was far away, but she… She was right in front of me… She… Something was off, but it looked just like her!”
“Ms. Blackwell, you didn’t see Sonja,” I assured her, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t-“
“Lucky… Dime…”
I froze. My blood turned to ice. The fear on Kate’s face grew as she began backing away, her back hitting the grave marker. I spun around to see a figure in the darkness limp toward us, a scratched and garbled familiar voice coming from it.
“Lucky… Dime…” It wheezed, “You brought her… Back… Give her… To me…”
I whipped out my gun, pointing it at this thing that had his voice. I stepped back to stand directly between this thing and Kate.
“Stay back!” I demanded. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Lucky… Di-“
“Shut up! Stop calling me that! Who are you? Not another step or I’ll shoot!”
The thing stopped limping toward us, its body shuddering in place as it stared us down. I took the safety off of my Glock, ready to blow this thing’s head off if it got any closer or even dared using that voice on me again.
“Kate…” It turned its attention to Kate, a completely different voice coming from it, another male’s voice. “Kate… I’m cold…”
“J-Jasper…” Kate began to sob, “Please, stop using their voices… Please stop!”
“Kate… Kate why did… Did you leave me…?” Another male voice asked. “I… I was in so much… Pain…”
“Shut up!” Kate cried out.
“I thought we… Were friends… Kate…” A female voice. “You said you… Loved me… Why won’t… You let me have… Your warmth…?”
“I said shut up!” Kate screamed as she pointed her rifle and shooting at the creature. She had missed, but the thing still let out an ear piercing shriek as it dodged out of the way of the bullets Kate was shooting. It ran off into the darkness, but Kate kept pulling the trigger of her rifle.
“Stop!” I shouted as I snatched the barrel of her rifle, shoving it to the ground before us. “It’s gone, you scared it off, get to the cabins, I’m right here with you!”
I began shoving Kate back toward where the cabins were, the sounds of that thing screaming out in a symphony of different voices ringing out throughout the woods. I shoved Kate into the first cabin we had arrived to, Cabin #1 I could only assume as I slammed the door shut behind us. It smelled God awful, like the smell of the corpse I found on my first murder case, and it was getting darker as the sun began to sink behind the trees outside.
“Detective, it smell terrible in here!” Kate cried out, covering her mouth and nose, but the tears still falling from her eyes were still visible as they rolled down her cheeks.
I pulled her close and kept her behind me as I took my gun and flashlight out. “Stay close to me,” I ordered, leading the way through the cabin, “do not run off or use that rifle without may say so, understood?”
Kate didn’t answer, but I could feel the heat from her body following after me as I made my toward the smell. It was getting worse as we inched closer to a closet door in a hallway that connected the living room to the kitchen. The door was locked, but after a couple of kicks I was able to get the door to swing open, the smell blasting us in our faces making us gag and nearly throw up on the floor. I fumbled around the sides inside the room to find a light switch that I was able to find to the side of the entryway. A yellow light flickered on, revealing the door led to a staircase. I led the way down the creaking steps, Kate close by as she kept her mouth covered with her shirt.
Once we had made our way to the bottom, Kate dropped her dad’s rifle and let out a scream as we stared at what was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. In a large pile at the corner of this basement room were nothing but skin and bones of humans and animals covered in maggots and flies. Some of the human bodies being small and child-like in size. The missing people who were never found after vanishing when they came to Cabin #2.
I grabbed Kate’s rifle off the floor and began pushing her back up the stairs, her screaming and sobbing all the way back up to the cabin. I slammed the door shut behind us and pushed Kate to the front door.
“We need to leave,” I had told her, trying to calm her down as we made it outside, “we need to get you home and away from here as soon as possible.”
“N-No… No!” She began fighting me, trying to escape my grasp on her. “No! That… That thing is still out there! You saw it! You can’t say you don’t believe me now! It even called you Lucky Dime! It said you brought me back!”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you!” I shot back. “I do, I saw exactly what you saw, but it’s way too dangerous for you to be out here while you’re the one it’s after!”
“I escaped it once, I can do it again!” Kate pointed out as she struggled against me while I tried getting her into my car. “I’m not running away this time, I want to kill it!”
“God damn it, Blackwell, we’ll let the police handle it! Just because you have a weapon doesn’t make you safe or ready to handle something like… Like that… That thing!”
“It killed my friends! It wants me! I’m going straight to it so I can blow its head off! It’ll come right for me!”
“I came here to bring you back home, not let you accomplish some stupid ass revenge plot! Get in the fucking car, unless you want to end up like those bodies down that-“
“D… De… Detect… Detective…”
A scratched and moaning voice cut me off. Kate and I both froze at the sound of something approaching. I turned to see a police officer stagger toward us from the tree line. I could barely tell who he was or who he used to be, his head held low and blue uniform covered in blood.
“H… Hel… Hel… Help… Help me…" It croaked as it stumbled closer.
I held up Kate's rifle. "Stay back!" I barked. "Not another step!"
The thing that stood before us wearing the cop like a full-bodied suit stopped in place. It swayed where it stood, blood water falling from its head and down to its chest.
"It… It… It's inside… Inside me…" It breathed painfully. "I… I can't… Help… Me…" Its voice then changed to that familiar voice that made my skin crawl. "Lucky… Dime… I… I'm so… Hungry… Give her… To… Me…"
I pulled the trigger of the rifle, hitting the creature in the head, the rest of it staggering backward from the blow. Still though, it remained on its feet, turning itself to look toward us once again.
"Give… Her… To… Me…" It wheeze, blood and brain pouring from where I had shot it, it beginning to stumble toward us once again. I continued shooting, hitting it in the shoulder, the arm, the leg, the head again, but it just kept coming toward us faster, demanding I give Kate to it.
I was about ready to ram it with the rifle, having run out of bullets, when a voice off in the distance made the creature freeze just an inch before us.
"I'm here! I'm here!" It called out in an almost sing-songy way, using the voice of a little girl. "I'm here! I'm here!"
"I'm… Here…" The creature repeated as it jerked its body to look to where the voice was coming from. "I'm here… I'm here… I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!" It began shrieking in a high pitch wail. It sounded like a mixture of different voices ranging from child, to woman, to man. Keeping flat on its feet, its upper body fell forward onto its hands before speedily crawling off like a spider.
We stood in shaking silence for a moment, Kate digging her fingers into my arm while I was too numb from shock to care about the pain she was unknowingly inflicting. It wasn’t until the radio from my car buzzed to life that jolted us back to whatever reality was at this point. I scrambled to the driver’s side, swinging the door open as I fell inside to grab the intercom to respond to the voice yelling for me over the receiver.
“Det. Snow, what the hell is going on up there?” The sheriff’s scratched voice called out over the receiver when I could barely get my name out of my mouth.
“Sh-Sh-Sheriff…?” Was all I could respond with, still trying to wrap my head around what I had just seen.
“Y-Y-Yeah,” he responded in mock shudder, “what the hell is going on up there? I’ve tried radioing every man I’ve got up there and am constantly being left on red! Do I need to send back-up?”
“No!” Immediately, I returned to full reality, finally understanding the severity of the moment and putting that knowledge into my tone. “Landon, do not send any more men up here, call everyone back immediately! I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s too dangerous! Call everyone back, we’re heading back to the Blackwell house now!”
“We?” The sheriff questioned, skepticism in his voice.
“I found Ms. Blackwell, she’s here with me.”
I was met with statice before the voice of Mr. Blackwell blasted over the intercom.
“Bring my daughter home, right now, you son of a bitch!” Mr. Blackwell demanded. “You bring her home this instant before I decide to kick your teeth in!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the radio was snatched from my hand from Kate. “I’m not coming home until I kill this thing!” She snapped into the radio. “I don’t know what it is, but I at least know I’m not crazy and that it needs to die before it kills anyone else!”
I grabbed the radio from Kate’s hand, beginning to tell her off when a agonized scream erupted from the intercom. I dropped the radio to cover my ears as Kate did, the scream piercing from my car to throughout the forest around us. The voice screaming and crying for help sounded male and it seemed to echo all around us.
“GIVE HER TO ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” A mix of the screaming voice and Mr. Blackwell’s hissed out after a good five minutes of screaming before the radio short-circuited and puffs of smoke flowed out.
After allowing my ears to adjust to the sudden silence, I grabbed the radio once again and tried calling for the sheriff, for the cops with us in the mountains, for anyone. When I was met with more silence, I slammed the radio back down on the holder and cursed loudly, hitting the wheel as if it were the source of all my problems.
After a moment to take some deep breaths, I told Kate to get in the car as I placed her rifle in the back seat.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she shot back. “I’m not-“
“Damn it, Blackwell, we have no idea what we’re dealing with, it can mimic peoples’ voices, and it just ran off like a fucking black widow!” I snapped, stepping out of the driver’s seat to glare down at her. “The last thing I’m doing to leaving you here alone and I’m not staying here another second until I can wrap my head around what the fuck I just saw! So, you either get yourself killed out here while I try talking you down this hero complex high, or you’re going to do what I say and get in the damn car!”
We stood in heated silence, glaring each other down before Kate huffed and stormed over to the passenger side of my car and slamming the door shut as she climbed in. I jumped in after her and began driving away from this nutty nightmare I had found myself in.
We drove down the trail back to civilization in silence, Kate staring out the window and trying to keep her tearful sniffs quiet. I had finally begun calming down and was starting to feel bad for snapping at her. She had only gone there to avenge her friends by killing that thing that had most likely killed a whole bunch of cops to find her. However, I still couldn’t just let her stay to hunt it and I didn’t want to stay out in those mountains with some kind of creature that could take the form and voice of someone I knew. I still couldn’t understand what is was I had even seen.
“Wendigo,” Kate whispered, breaking the silence in the car first. She had said it as if she had just remembered something important.
“What?”
“A Wendigo,” She repeated, turning to look to me with wide scared eyes, “that’s what that thing is! It’s a Wendigo!”
“Slow down, what’s a Wendigo?”
“It’s… Oh, just forget it! You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Ms. Blackwell, I just saw a cop being used as a puppet and then run off at inhuman speed on all fours; I doubt I’m not going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth now. What’s a Wendigo?”
Kate eyed me for a moment before releasing some of the tension from her face as she took a deep breath and began explaining to me. “They’re a Native American myth; it’s believed they’re the spirits of people who would lose themselves in the woods and would end up eating other people to satiate their hunger. I think that’s what that thing is. They can mimic the voices of people who died and use it to lure people to them, they can take the form of that person too.”
“Why does it want female hearts?” I asked, not realizing I had yet told her what my mysterious caller kept asking for when they called me.
“It… It wants my heart?” she asked shakily.
I cursed to myself before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I think this thing wants hearts, but it only wants female hearts. Why? I don’t know yet. But the only other person to be found after killing someone in those cabins was found with his partner’s heart missing to which he was blamed for taking out of her. Recently, I’ve been getting calls from some… Thing wanting me to bring you back here so it could take something from you. It would have taken Ms. Greymoore’s, but you hid her well enough that only the police could find her in time. Now, I’ve been getting calls asking for you and to get something from you.”
Kate looked to me in shock before a wave of guilt twisted her face in pain. “I… I’m so, so… So sorry, Detective!” She cried out. “I… I had… I had no idea you were being… Harassed by it! Had I known it wanted me back and was demanding you brought me here, I never… I didn’t… That’s why it said you brought me back! Oh, I’m such an idiot!” She pressed her hands to her face, grabbing at her hair between her fingers and tightening them around her eyes.
“No, no, no, stop, stop that!” I ordered, screeching the car to a halt, having to bring it to a crooked stop so I could stop her from hurting herself. I snatched her arms from her head and pinned them to her lap, tears flooding her face. “It’s my fault for not telling you sooner! I was too focused on trying to solve this case with the most efficient evidence I could, but that just kept me looking to you as a suspect. I should have stopped thinking you were the killer the moment I got that first call. There’s no way any of us could have seen… This coming… Except people who probably already believe in that kind of stuff or don’t stop to assume a more rational explanation like a cult… I’m… I’m sorry. But, I won’t let it take anything from you, not anymore. I’m going to get you home and then I’ll deal with this with the rest of the police department. You don’t have to deal with this thing anymore, it’ll be my burden from now on. You need time to finally get some rest and mourn your friends with your and their families. It’s already fucked your life up enough, I won’t let it go on making it worse.”
I stopped her before she could argue with me with a wave of my hand. “Your friends’ deaths shouldn’t be your burden to handle. I know you want to be the one who kills that thing and do right by them, but that’s not what they would want. They’d want you to remember them and continue living. They know you didn’t do it, so stop blaming yourself and stop acting like you’re the one who has to make it up to them. I will put an end to this die trying, but you need to go home and be with people who are happy you still get to live.”
Kate looked down at her hands that I kept down on her lap before nodding weakly and letting out a broken “okay.”
“Good, now let’s get you home before-“
My words were cut off when the honk of a car barreling toward us echoed through the woods. The headlights were fast approaching and I barely had time to grab the gear shift to put us back in drive as the other vehicle hit us, forcing us back and forth in one violent motion. It took me a moment to check myself to be sure I hadn’t hit my head on anything or got whiplash from the crash before I immediately returned my full attention to Kate who was kneeling over holding her head. I gently grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up to examine her head. It didn’t appear to have been busted and bleeding, but she was holding the front side of her forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, prying her hand away from the spot on her forehead, seeing that it was beginning to bruise. “Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can understand me!”
“I… I’m f-fine…” she mumbled as she looked to her hand to check if there was blood on her palm, “I… I think I just… Hit… Hit the w-window…” She then blinked twice in my direction before looking to the car that had rammed us.
I turned my attention as well to the car to see it was a police van, it’s front crushed into the left of my front. I quickly jumped out my vehicle and stormed to the van, yelling at who ever was driving the van to come out and explain what the hell they were doing.
The driver’s side of the van swung open once I was near enough and a man in an orange jumpsuit climbed out, staring familiar daggers at me. The moment realization set in, my mixed emotions of confusion, frustration, and fear turned to fury.
It was Leighton Raines.
“Jesus, you really are a shitty detective.” Was all he said to me before reaching into the can and retrieving a rifle out from the passenger seat.
[END OF PART 1]
Part 6
2024.05.19 21:12 Ambitious-Desk-60 Lucifer vs. Mary, Chapter 2:7 Deadly Sins
Lucifer began approaching Mary, kicking the caltrops out of the way while Mary was swinging her thurible, winding up a swing, also careful not to step on her own caltrops.
“Heh…… You completely surrounded yourself huh? That’s good”
Lucifer remarks, before holding out one of his hands.
“MAMMON! GAUNTLETS OF GREED!”
Lucifer’s gauntlets turned gold, and the caltrops nearby began to fly to him, Mary looking at the caltrops, before Lucifer closes his fist, enhancing the attraction of the gold, Mary suddenly getting stabbed from behind from the caltrops, and a lot of gold jewelry and gems from the audience also adding up, Lucifer’s gauntlets now having massive spiked knuckle dusters, Mary taking the caltrops out of her back, dripping myrrh into the wounds from her Thurible to close them.
“Cheap trick..”
Mary said to Lucifer, who grinned.
“It’s your fault for giving me those caltrops”
Meanwhile, Göll was shocked at Lucifer’s powers.
“He called out another Sin…is that how his powers work?”
Brunhilde then answers Göll.
“Yes, it’s a trick he learned when he first rebelled to the 6 Heavenly Leaders”
Brunhilde then looked at Mary, who stopped bleeding thanks to the myrrh produced by the thurible being empowered by the gifts of the 3 magi.
“You already know how and why Lucifer first rebelled against YHWH and the other Leaders, right?”
Brunhilde asked Göll, who nodded.
“He thought he was above them, rallying a 3rd of all pantheons and even Helheim, but was defeated by Michael, right?”
Brunhilde nods, looking at Lucifer’s armor.
“To be more precise, Lucifer was the perfect being in Heaven. He had everything he could ask and more, like a spoiled brat, and one time, when training in Heaven, he had this thought:Why am I not one of the 6 Heavenly Leaders?”
Brunhilde continued, Göll listening carefully.
“So, he went to each of the 6 Heavenly Leaders, and told them he wanted to also be a Leader, even being happy with being the 7th, but after a council, all 6 of them denied his request, as Lucifer was not worshiped like a God by the humans; This enraged Lucifer, to the point he grabbed a sword nearby, and lunged against Ra and Amaterasu, claiming that he just has to kill one of them and take their spot, before YHWH’s bodyguard, Michael, intervened, parrying his strike before throwing him out of the Council room”
While Brunhilde was talking, Göll couldn’t help but look at Lucifer’s armor and weaponry.
“And so, Lucifer became very determined into overthrowing all 6 Leaders, and traveled across all pantheons, recruiting several angels, monsters, demons, minor gods, and even managing to convince major ones, such as Seth, the Asuras, Mot, Baal, and many more, and after gathering such a large army and increasing his own power, he launched a full invasion in Heaven, aiming to kill YWHW first for revenge, but was met with a single obstacle:Michael”
Upon hearing Michael’s name, Göll had memories of the previous round, where Michael had fought against Yoshitsune and nearly died.
“T-the same Michael who fought last match?”
Brunhilde nodded, continuing the narration.
“Michael requested for a duel to solve the matter, whichLucifer agreed to, but as soon as the 6 Heavenly Leaders gave their approval for the duel, Lucifer sent his entire army against Michael, and after a long battle, Lucifer was finally defeated by a single Angel, something he still couldn’t believe, despite being surrounded by bodies, and being all beaten up. As he was still Alice, Lucifer then asked Michael how he won, and why he didn't kill him off, Michael replying with:”My faith in Lord YHWH granted me the strength to beat your selfish Pride, Lucifer, and the freedom of death will not be a proper punishment for you” before casting Lucifer’s entire army, including Lucifer himself, into the jaws of the Leviathan, the Gates of Helheim” “The Leviathan? Isn’t he also one of the 7 Deadly Sins?”
Göll asked Brunhilde, who then replied back.
“He wasn’t, until Lucifer was sent to Helheim, where he plotted to overthrow it, and after breaking out once with the help of the 72 Demons of the Ars Goetia, he went to the Leviathan’s mind, and told him that if the Leviathan helped him, Lucifer will make him a name everyone will fear and submit to, to which the Leviathan agreed to, and with the help of his fellow other sins, Beelzebub, Mammon, Belphegor, Satan and Asmodeus, he gathered all of the prisoners and sinners in Helheim, and successfully overthrew Hades and Thanatos, holding Hades hostage to avoid the 6 Heavenly Leaders from intervening, and banishing Thanatos out, becoming the sole leader of Helheim.”
Brunhilde finished narrating, as Göll kept looking at Lucifer’s armor and weapons while he fought Mary, especially captivated by the dark auras surrounding him.
“So, in Helheim, he then realized he could gather sin energy for himself?”
Göll asks once again, Brunhilde nodding in response.
“With that same sin energy, he kidnapped Kanayago and Hephaestus, while also forcing cyclops and the souls of human blacksmiths, to forge him the weapons and armor he’s using right now:the Armor of Pride, the Gauntlets of Greed, the Helmet of Sloth, the Hook of Gluttony, the Sword of Wrath, the Shield of Envy and the Spear of Lust”
As Brunhilde was listing Lucifer’s arsenal, Lucifer unsheathed his sword, approaching Mary.
“SATAN! SWORD OF WRATH:ABADDON PLAGUES!”
Lucifer’s sword then extended in black and red sin energy, and swung at Mary, who swung back, shattering the sword.
“LUCIFER’S SWORD HAS BEEN SHATTERED BY THE VIRGIN MARY’S SWING!”
Heimdall announces, Zeus then chuckling.
“She shouldn’t have”
The shattered fragments, still flying in the air, then turned into various plagues:toxic frogs, locusts, boiling oil, plague-infested pests and a pitch black smoke, Mary being unaffected by the frogs, locusts and pests, and swinging her thurible to dissipate the smoke, but burning her arms on the oil in the process.
“WHAT WAS THAT???”
Göll screamed shocked, Brunhilde calmly explaining.
“The weapons and armor are imbued with the sin energies, and with that, Lucifer can use various powers, which were given to him by his fellow sins, Satan's Wrath in this case”
Mary then cooled the oil off with myrrh, and upon seeing Lucifer approach, she swung the thurible around herself, creating a cloud of smoke.
“Yeah yeah, keep hiding you little bitch….hm?”
Lucifer stepped back from the incense smoke, and tapped his helmet, which grew an eye between the horns.
“Helmet of Sloth, Belphegor…..what do you mean your Automatic Aim can’t scan weak points through that smoke? What do you mean “Be happy you can still see an outline?””
As Lucifer began scanning the smoke, from the top balcony, Brunhilde saw that Mary had made a wall of frankincense smoke around her.
“So, his helmet was made with the power of Belphegor, the…..sin of sloth? How does that even make sense?”
Göll asked, confused, Brunhilde looking at Göll.
“Yes, but remember:Sloth is the sin of inaction, of not doing anything yourself, and the Helmet of Sloth automatically tells Lucifer where his enemy is, any incoming attack, and can even focus on weak points, doing all the work”
Inside the circle, Mary once again, swung her thurible, but this time, it also spewed incense, accelerating the swing, while Mary began to pray, the audience hearing the prayer from Heimdall’s speakers, and began joining in.
“_Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen._”
Soon, Lucifer could hear the audience had also begun praying along Mary.
“Hm? Oh, they’re praying for her safety? Hehe, how pathetic” “THE VIRGIN MARY IS PRAYING FOR HERSELF? FOR WHAT REASONS IS SHE DOING THIS?”
Heimdall announced, also confused.
“Ugh, LUCIFER! ARMOR OF PRIDE! JERICHO QUAKES!”
Lucifer’s boots glowed black, Lucifer doing a roundhouse kick towards the wall, shockwaves dissipating the smoke, revealing the Virgin Mary, who immediately charges towards Lucifer.
“_Ave Maria!_”
Lucifer was caught off guard by the speed at which Mary approached and attacked, using his gauntlets to shield himself.
“What the-”
As Mary’s thurible hits Lucifer’s gauntlets, a glowing light emerges from the point of contact, and Lucifer’s Gauntlets then shatter from the hit, shocking Lucifer, Heimdall and all of the audience, even making Zeus and Artemis worry.
“THE…..THE VIRGIN MARY LANDS A DEVASTATING HIT! LUCIFER’S GAUNTLETS HAVE BEEN BROKEN!”
submitted by Ambitious-Desk-60 to ShuumatsuNoValkyrie [link] [comments]
“Heh…… You completely surrounded yourself huh? That’s good”
Lucifer remarks, before holding out one of his hands.
“MAMMON! GAUNTLETS OF GREED!”
Lucifer’s gauntlets turned gold, and the caltrops nearby began to fly to him, Mary looking at the caltrops, before Lucifer closes his fist, enhancing the attraction of the gold, Mary suddenly getting stabbed from behind from the caltrops, and a lot of gold jewelry and gems from the audience also adding up, Lucifer’s gauntlets now having massive spiked knuckle dusters, Mary taking the caltrops out of her back, dripping myrrh into the wounds from her Thurible to close them.
“Cheap trick..”
Mary said to Lucifer, who grinned.
“It’s your fault for giving me those caltrops”
Meanwhile, Göll was shocked at Lucifer’s powers.
“He called out another Sin…is that how his powers work?”
Brunhilde then answers Göll.
“Yes, it’s a trick he learned when he first rebelled to the 6 Heavenly Leaders”
Brunhilde then looked at Mary, who stopped bleeding thanks to the myrrh produced by the thurible being empowered by the gifts of the 3 magi.
“You already know how and why Lucifer first rebelled against YHWH and the other Leaders, right?”
Brunhilde asked Göll, who nodded.
“He thought he was above them, rallying a 3rd of all pantheons and even Helheim, but was defeated by Michael, right?”
Brunhilde nods, looking at Lucifer’s armor.
“To be more precise, Lucifer was the perfect being in Heaven. He had everything he could ask and more, like a spoiled brat, and one time, when training in Heaven, he had this thought:Why am I not one of the 6 Heavenly Leaders?”
Brunhilde continued, Göll listening carefully.
“So, he went to each of the 6 Heavenly Leaders, and told them he wanted to also be a Leader, even being happy with being the 7th, but after a council, all 6 of them denied his request, as Lucifer was not worshiped like a God by the humans; This enraged Lucifer, to the point he grabbed a sword nearby, and lunged against Ra and Amaterasu, claiming that he just has to kill one of them and take their spot, before YHWH’s bodyguard, Michael, intervened, parrying his strike before throwing him out of the Council room”
While Brunhilde was talking, Göll couldn’t help but look at Lucifer’s armor and weaponry.
“And so, Lucifer became very determined into overthrowing all 6 Leaders, and traveled across all pantheons, recruiting several angels, monsters, demons, minor gods, and even managing to convince major ones, such as Seth, the Asuras, Mot, Baal, and many more, and after gathering such a large army and increasing his own power, he launched a full invasion in Heaven, aiming to kill YWHW first for revenge, but was met with a single obstacle:Michael”
Upon hearing Michael’s name, Göll had memories of the previous round, where Michael had fought against Yoshitsune and nearly died.
“T-the same Michael who fought last match?”
Brunhilde nodded, continuing the narration.
“Michael requested for a duel to solve the matter, whichLucifer agreed to, but as soon as the 6 Heavenly Leaders gave their approval for the duel, Lucifer sent his entire army against Michael, and after a long battle, Lucifer was finally defeated by a single Angel, something he still couldn’t believe, despite being surrounded by bodies, and being all beaten up. As he was still Alice, Lucifer then asked Michael how he won, and why he didn't kill him off, Michael replying with:”My faith in Lord YHWH granted me the strength to beat your selfish Pride, Lucifer, and the freedom of death will not be a proper punishment for you” before casting Lucifer’s entire army, including Lucifer himself, into the jaws of the Leviathan, the Gates of Helheim” “The Leviathan? Isn’t he also one of the 7 Deadly Sins?”
Göll asked Brunhilde, who then replied back.
“He wasn’t, until Lucifer was sent to Helheim, where he plotted to overthrow it, and after breaking out once with the help of the 72 Demons of the Ars Goetia, he went to the Leviathan’s mind, and told him that if the Leviathan helped him, Lucifer will make him a name everyone will fear and submit to, to which the Leviathan agreed to, and with the help of his fellow other sins, Beelzebub, Mammon, Belphegor, Satan and Asmodeus, he gathered all of the prisoners and sinners in Helheim, and successfully overthrew Hades and Thanatos, holding Hades hostage to avoid the 6 Heavenly Leaders from intervening, and banishing Thanatos out, becoming the sole leader of Helheim.”
Brunhilde finished narrating, as Göll kept looking at Lucifer’s armor and weapons while he fought Mary, especially captivated by the dark auras surrounding him.
“So, in Helheim, he then realized he could gather sin energy for himself?”
Göll asks once again, Brunhilde nodding in response.
“With that same sin energy, he kidnapped Kanayago and Hephaestus, while also forcing cyclops and the souls of human blacksmiths, to forge him the weapons and armor he’s using right now:the Armor of Pride, the Gauntlets of Greed, the Helmet of Sloth, the Hook of Gluttony, the Sword of Wrath, the Shield of Envy and the Spear of Lust”
As Brunhilde was listing Lucifer’s arsenal, Lucifer unsheathed his sword, approaching Mary.
“SATAN! SWORD OF WRATH:ABADDON PLAGUES!”
Lucifer’s sword then extended in black and red sin energy, and swung at Mary, who swung back, shattering the sword.
“LUCIFER’S SWORD HAS BEEN SHATTERED BY THE VIRGIN MARY’S SWING!”
Heimdall announces, Zeus then chuckling.
“She shouldn’t have”
The shattered fragments, still flying in the air, then turned into various plagues:toxic frogs, locusts, boiling oil, plague-infested pests and a pitch black smoke, Mary being unaffected by the frogs, locusts and pests, and swinging her thurible to dissipate the smoke, but burning her arms on the oil in the process.
“WHAT WAS THAT???”
Göll screamed shocked, Brunhilde calmly explaining.
“The weapons and armor are imbued with the sin energies, and with that, Lucifer can use various powers, which were given to him by his fellow sins, Satan's Wrath in this case”
Mary then cooled the oil off with myrrh, and upon seeing Lucifer approach, she swung the thurible around herself, creating a cloud of smoke.
“Yeah yeah, keep hiding you little bitch….hm?”
Lucifer stepped back from the incense smoke, and tapped his helmet, which grew an eye between the horns.
“Helmet of Sloth, Belphegor…..what do you mean your Automatic Aim can’t scan weak points through that smoke? What do you mean “Be happy you can still see an outline?””
As Lucifer began scanning the smoke, from the top balcony, Brunhilde saw that Mary had made a wall of frankincense smoke around her.
“So, his helmet was made with the power of Belphegor, the…..sin of sloth? How does that even make sense?”
Göll asked, confused, Brunhilde looking at Göll.
“Yes, but remember:Sloth is the sin of inaction, of not doing anything yourself, and the Helmet of Sloth automatically tells Lucifer where his enemy is, any incoming attack, and can even focus on weak points, doing all the work”
Inside the circle, Mary once again, swung her thurible, but this time, it also spewed incense, accelerating the swing, while Mary began to pray, the audience hearing the prayer from Heimdall’s speakers, and began joining in.
“_Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen._”
Soon, Lucifer could hear the audience had also begun praying along Mary.
“Hm? Oh, they’re praying for her safety? Hehe, how pathetic” “THE VIRGIN MARY IS PRAYING FOR HERSELF? FOR WHAT REASONS IS SHE DOING THIS?”
Heimdall announced, also confused.
“Ugh, LUCIFER! ARMOR OF PRIDE! JERICHO QUAKES!”
Lucifer’s boots glowed black, Lucifer doing a roundhouse kick towards the wall, shockwaves dissipating the smoke, revealing the Virgin Mary, who immediately charges towards Lucifer.
“_Ave Maria!_”
Lucifer was caught off guard by the speed at which Mary approached and attacked, using his gauntlets to shield himself.
“What the-”
As Mary’s thurible hits Lucifer’s gauntlets, a glowing light emerges from the point of contact, and Lucifer’s Gauntlets then shatter from the hit, shocking Lucifer, Heimdall and all of the audience, even making Zeus and Artemis worry.
“THE…..THE VIRGIN MARY LANDS A DEVASTATING HIT! LUCIFER’S GAUNTLETS HAVE BEEN BROKEN!”
2024.05.19 21:09 TrackingSystemDirect GPS Tracker For Wife's Car
 | GPS Tracker For Wife's Car - Discover Where She Is Going In 4 Easy StepsDo you believe your wife might be cheating, and the unknown is killing you? Listen, relationships inevitably face challenges, with partners sometimes choosing compromise, patience, or, regrettably, infidelity. Cheating, a leading cause for breakups, leaves many husbands grappling for the truth. This is where a GPS tracker for wife's car can provide answers. But how do you know if this is the right step? In this article, you will discover how GPS tracking devices can offer concrete evidence of infidelity. You'll learn not just the hows, but also the whys, providing a clearer path through relationship troubles.Disclaimer: Before you consider placing a GPS tracker on any vehicle, it's essential to understand the legal and ethical boundaries. Consent is paramount. Without explicit permission from the owner of the vehicle, you could be infringing upon privacy rights and potentially violating federal, state, or local laws. Educate yourself on the legalities in your jurisdiction; unauthorized tracking is not only a breach of trust but may also lead to legal consequences. Remember, transparency in intent and action is not just a courtesy—it's a legal requirement. Finally, this content is for educational purposes only. Tracking System Direct provides information about GPS car trackers to inform your decisions, not to encourage or condone misuse. We do not accept responsibility for any privacy invasions or legal infractions that occur as a result of using a GPS tracking device. You are solely responsible for ensuring that any actions you take with GPS technology comply with applicable laws and respect individual privacy. How to Track Your Wife's Car In 4 Easy Steps:Choose A Reliable GPS Tracker For Carshttps://preview.redd.it/xu5uuaxmjf1d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=30ae7b73808688cb67dec9e7511b2fb1999a3feehttps://i.redd.it/hj6r2v5ojf1d1.gif Visit Website: https://spacehawkgps.com When selecting a GPS tracker for cheating spouse, prioritize long battery life; it ensures consistent monitoring without frequent recharges. Opt for real-time tracking to monitor your wife's location instantly. Look for a compact design, making the tracker less noticeable and less likely to be tampered with. Our suggestion? SpaceHawk GPS. However, you could consider the SpyTec GL300 or Tracki if you want something cheaper that has more expensive monthly subscription fees. Avoid bulky models that are hard to install discreetly. Ensure the interface is intuitive; it should allow you to navigate features quickly and easily. 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Resource*: You can learn more about the best spot where to hide a GPS tracker* here. Set Up The Tracking Systemhttps://i.redd.it/xp11gfixjf1d1.gifTo set up your GPS car tracker, start by registering it with the corresponding tracking app on your smartphone. This process typically involves downloading the app specified by the tracker's manufacturer. Once installed, open the app and follow the on-screen instructions to create an account. After signing up, you'll likely need to enter a serial number or scan a QR code provided with the GPS tracker. This step is crucial to pair the device with your app, ensuring you can monitor the car's location through your phone. The app may then guide you through a setup wizard to customize settings like notification preferences and update intervals. Monitor Your Wife's Car Locationhttps://i.redd.it/iz4f0qr0kf1d1.gifTo monitor your wife's car location and movements, open the tracking app linked to the GPS device you've installed in her vehicle. This app will display real-time location data, allowing you to see where the car is at any given moment. Ensure the app is set to provide live updates so you can track the car's movements as they happen. Keep an eye on the app's map interface, which should show the car's current location and possibly its direction and speed. Some apps also offer the feature to view the car's route history, which can be helpful for understanding travel patterns or identifying frequently visited places. Remember to use such tracking responsibly and ethically, respecting privacy and considering the implications of monitoring someone's movements. It's generally best to have open communication about the use of such devices and to ensure that there is mutual consent and understanding regarding their purpose and use. Best GPS Tracker For Cheating Wifehttps://preview.redd.it/qsiij7t1kf1d1.jpg?width=2560&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ae68c6b3b6f5c4d6f6547a71b5c8e527df1f094aCHECK PRICE!
By utilizing the SpaceHawk GPS vehicle tracking device, you can find out the truth. In fact, this GPS tracker for wife's car is the same device used by private investigators conducting infidelity investigations. However, while the SpaceHawk mini GPS offers evidence-gathering capabilities, approaching relationship verification cautiously is crucial. Trust and open communication should always form the foundation of any relationship. Reflecting on the potential consequences, positive and negative, is vital when employing such technology. https://preview.redd.it/uzv2hakbkf1d1.png?width=990&format=png&auto=webp&s=c1fd4f56446bf1460dfccb8811bc8b83aa8e6c1f Another Top Choice For GPS Car Tracker: https://konnectgps.com Is It OK To Spy On Your Spouse - Pros vs ConsThe topic of surveillance within a marriage is a highly sensitive one, fraught with ethical dilemmas and personal conflict. On one hand, the use of a GPS tracker for wife's car can offer undeniable proof of your partner's whereabouts, potentially bringing hidden truths to light. This could either pave the way for much-needed transparency or be the first step towards healing a fractured relationship. On the other hand, the act of tracking itself can be seen as a breach of trust, with the potential to inflict deep emotional wounds. Yes, and even bring about the dissolution of the marriage. In this section, we will explore the nuanced debate of, "Is It OK To Spy On Your Spouse" by weighing the pros and cons.Pros:
Image Generated By AI 5 Warning Signs Your Wife Is Having An Affair - Every Husband Needs To Know!
Strengthening Connections, Communication, and Marriage CounselingOpen dialogue with your partner is the bedrock of a healthy relationship. It invites trust and understanding, allowing you both to share concerns and aspirations. More importantly, engage in regular, heartfelt discussions to reinforce your connection. By doing so, you create a safe space for honesty, which can alleviate doubts and fears.Marriage counseling offers a structured approach to improving your relationship. Statistics reveal its effectiveness; for instance, research published by the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy indicates that over 90% of clients report improved emotional health. Experts like Dr. John Gottman advocate for the power of communication in resolving conflicts and building lasting partnerships. In therapy, you learn to listen actively and speak constructively, transforming potential rifts into pillars of mutual support. Counseling isn't just about fixing problems—it's about enriching your relationship, deepening your bond, and growing together. Embrace it as a proactive step towards a fulfilling union. Frequently Asked QuestionsCan I Put A Tracking Device On My Wife's Car?Yes, you can put a tracking device on your wife's car, but there are important factors to consider.
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2024.05.19 21:08 MemoraNetwork Dead cat!? I don’t f*cking care!!
Sorry kinda long, but context 🤷
First time I've been first party in a real interaction vs being the observer. Wife and I keep to ourselves and try to avoid the public as much as we can for good reasons, we are respectable quiet neighbors and have lived here for 8+ years with zero problems, and have never had a negative issue with anyone… but this guy…
8 months ago, this very senior golden retriever was running around a ditch next to a busy highway, wife who is an ex-vet tech of 20 yrs, pulls over to help and realizes it's our neighbors dog per his id tag/collar, whom we've never had more than a hello and head nod from prior to this, she gets the dog wrangled and takes him back (over ½ miles from home) just to proceed to being yelled at about touching his dog and “she let him out the back fence on purpose” etc… it's crazy shit, but my wife did the right thing, said he's crazy and has moved on/forgotten. Dog saved, mission success.
I'm asleep and got this second hand until i was awakened…
Nice crisp morning this am, wife planting flowers in front garden bed, an approximately 6 months old cat gets ran over in the street basically right in front of her, on the opposite side of the street from our house. A small picket fence and sidewalk separated her from the street, she had a front row view and heard the “squish”-her tear soaked words. She's mortified and upset as any animal lover would be seeing that at 0730 in a rural quiet area, peacefully gardening with a morning coffee. She dawns some gloves and moves the cat off the street respectfully to the closest non sidewalk/road spot , as anyone living rurally understands clearing the roads from animals etc..., This side (opposite our side) has no sidewalk, but it's a gravel berm leading to said grumpy old man's unfenced front yard. She places the body basically on the berm, and there is a row of bushes, with the cat resting under the closest bush in the berm to the street, leaving the animal mostly visible but out of the way/road. Cat had a collar and tags so she knew it was a pet.
As a side note: She had her dog get ran over in front of her when she was 10 and is hyper paranoid still about our animals getting out. I respect it.
Cue Boomer…
As my wife is walking back up our longish driveway to wash her hands and go back to her flowers, she hears “FUCK YOU YA STUPID CUNT” and sees him hurl the body of the cat by the tail, at her into the street and flips her off. My wife doesn't really take shit, it's a reason I love her, she harnesses “rip the band aid right off” mentality. So she turns around, with tears in her eyes being a sensitive animal person and sees his obese bald ass flipping her the bird and laughing. She goes and grabs the cats body out of the street (again) and moves it to behind his back fence/alley and says “technically not your property, it's county’s responsibility now”. I was asleep and didn't see this interaction yet, but she said as she moved the cat he yelled all sleezy like “why don't you suck my dick bitch" So she said some basic shit talking back and stormed up the driveway
I wake up hearing our dogs flipping out cause “ALERT people amz yelling outsidez ALERT”. See her storming up the driveway, I haven't had a sip of coffee yet note you.
She tells me what happened. I look out and he's talking to his other sided neighbor, who witnessed the whole thing too pointing at our place, she's a boomer Karen too, who is 72 and they're friends.
As I hear that he asks my wife about the whole dick situation I'm seeing red and decide to go over there and confront the most "get off my lawn" asshole I've ever ran into.
I have my phone on audio recording in my pocket so I have backup/proof if anything goes amiss.
I'm halfway down my driveway, I hear "What's he gonna do punch me or shoot me or some dumbass shit", it needs to be noted I'm 6’9” ~250 lbs and in pretty fit shape with a decade of CQC and martial arts training so I am aware of power disparity in situations, I stay calm and quiet and get close enough not to yell, but say
Me: "why is your first instinct to think I'm here to instigate violence??"
Boomer: “ I didn't say tha-”
Me:”I'm not deaf I heard you say that, answer me, why do you think violence is an acceptable answer, you coward. Why do you presume I would come over and just assault someone, this shows me your mindset”
Boomer: “well your wife said-”
Me: “ let's talk about my wife, she said you asked her to come and suck your dick and called her a cunt and a bitch, you're lucky I'm not actually reacting... sir have you ever been married”
Boomer: chuckles "yeah actually a few times"
Me: chortles mean and loudly "yeah I bet, no surprises there. How would you have reacted to some old man who is more than double your age, asking your wife to suck his dick and calling her a cunt??”
Boomer: "well I'd be acting like you I suppose"
Me: "okay so you understand you fucked up then, YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ANOTHER MANS WIFE LIKE THIS WITHOUT EXPECTING A HUSBAND TO SHOW UP AND SAY SOMETHING"...
Boomer: "SHE PURPOSELY PUT A DEAD CAT ON MY ROSES"
Me:" no she moved someone's dead pet from the street out of respect and trauma from witnessing a pet get ran over" * admitted dick move, Knowing he lost his goldy a few months ago I ask* "sir have you ever lost a pet?"
Boomer: reacts some nonverbally "yes I've had multiple pets die in my arms"
Me: "imagine your last pet getting ran over, and then ran over by another car and another and another, now that is how some kid is probably going to feel from that mobile home park over there, as that's their cat."
NOTE down the alley behind his fence there's a small mobile home park with some super sweet families and are great neighbors, my son goes to school with their kids, solid people I'm happy to call my neighbors...
Boomer: "I don't fucking care about those Mexican kids and it's a dead cat. Who fucking cares, keep IT OFF MY FUCKING ROSES!"
Me: "first off youre a fucking bigot to bring their ethnicity into this, that doesn't change a fucking thing old man, act your age and have some self respect. YOU think you're a man, be a man and act like one, heres the difference between men and boys, men, care about their community and I was raised properly to respect and be kind to my neighbors, it's obvious you don't care how anyone in the community sees you."
I quietly, firmly said, " you don't talk to my wife, she won't talk to you. You have any issues, you talk to me and best watch how you approach me. I have surveillance and will ensure this is handled correctly"
I saw loads of sweat rolling down the wrinkles of his face and looked into his jaundice laiden eyes. Decided to beat him at his own game, stuck out my hand and he instinctively shook it.
I vice gripped it and muttered, "and if you ever talk to me or my family like that again, I'll be going to jail..." And walked off.
I hear as I walk back up the driveway, the Karen friend say “he made good points about a lot of that Ed, probably the best resolution you could've hoped for"
Not really shocked or surprised this occurred, just disappointed
I copied and pasted most of the transcript here from the recording and watched the footage from the videos, it seems to have gone exactly like my wife said... /Facepalm end rant
Tldr: boomer berates my wife and then tells her to suck his dick, for her trying to get a dead pet out of the street, so I confronted him.
submitted by MemoraNetwork to BoomersBeingFools [link] [comments]
First time I've been first party in a real interaction vs being the observer. Wife and I keep to ourselves and try to avoid the public as much as we can for good reasons, we are respectable quiet neighbors and have lived here for 8+ years with zero problems, and have never had a negative issue with anyone… but this guy…
8 months ago, this very senior golden retriever was running around a ditch next to a busy highway, wife who is an ex-vet tech of 20 yrs, pulls over to help and realizes it's our neighbors dog per his id tag/collar, whom we've never had more than a hello and head nod from prior to this, she gets the dog wrangled and takes him back (over ½ miles from home) just to proceed to being yelled at about touching his dog and “she let him out the back fence on purpose” etc… it's crazy shit, but my wife did the right thing, said he's crazy and has moved on/forgotten. Dog saved, mission success.
I'm asleep and got this second hand until i was awakened…
Nice crisp morning this am, wife planting flowers in front garden bed, an approximately 6 months old cat gets ran over in the street basically right in front of her, on the opposite side of the street from our house. A small picket fence and sidewalk separated her from the street, she had a front row view and heard the “squish”-her tear soaked words. She's mortified and upset as any animal lover would be seeing that at 0730 in a rural quiet area, peacefully gardening with a morning coffee. She dawns some gloves and moves the cat off the street respectfully to the closest non sidewalk/road spot , as anyone living rurally understands clearing the roads from animals etc..., This side (opposite our side) has no sidewalk, but it's a gravel berm leading to said grumpy old man's unfenced front yard. She places the body basically on the berm, and there is a row of bushes, with the cat resting under the closest bush in the berm to the street, leaving the animal mostly visible but out of the way/road. Cat had a collar and tags so she knew it was a pet.
As a side note: She had her dog get ran over in front of her when she was 10 and is hyper paranoid still about our animals getting out. I respect it.
Cue Boomer…
As my wife is walking back up our longish driveway to wash her hands and go back to her flowers, she hears “FUCK YOU YA STUPID CUNT” and sees him hurl the body of the cat by the tail, at her into the street and flips her off. My wife doesn't really take shit, it's a reason I love her, she harnesses “rip the band aid right off” mentality. So she turns around, with tears in her eyes being a sensitive animal person and sees his obese bald ass flipping her the bird and laughing. She goes and grabs the cats body out of the street (again) and moves it to behind his back fence/alley and says “technically not your property, it's county’s responsibility now”. I was asleep and didn't see this interaction yet, but she said as she moved the cat he yelled all sleezy like “why don't you suck my dick bitch" So she said some basic shit talking back and stormed up the driveway
I wake up hearing our dogs flipping out cause “ALERT people amz yelling outsidez ALERT”. See her storming up the driveway, I haven't had a sip of coffee yet note you.
She tells me what happened. I look out and he's talking to his other sided neighbor, who witnessed the whole thing too pointing at our place, she's a boomer Karen too, who is 72 and they're friends.
As I hear that he asks my wife about the whole dick situation I'm seeing red and decide to go over there and confront the most "get off my lawn" asshole I've ever ran into.
I have my phone on audio recording in my pocket so I have backup/proof if anything goes amiss.
I'm halfway down my driveway, I hear "What's he gonna do punch me or shoot me or some dumbass shit", it needs to be noted I'm 6’9” ~250 lbs and in pretty fit shape with a decade of CQC and martial arts training so I am aware of power disparity in situations, I stay calm and quiet and get close enough not to yell, but say
Me: "why is your first instinct to think I'm here to instigate violence??"
Boomer: “ I didn't say tha-”
Me:”I'm not deaf I heard you say that, answer me, why do you think violence is an acceptable answer, you coward. Why do you presume I would come over and just assault someone, this shows me your mindset”
Boomer: “well your wife said-”
Me: “ let's talk about my wife, she said you asked her to come and suck your dick and called her a cunt and a bitch, you're lucky I'm not actually reacting... sir have you ever been married”
Boomer: chuckles "yeah actually a few times"
Me: chortles mean and loudly "yeah I bet, no surprises there. How would you have reacted to some old man who is more than double your age, asking your wife to suck his dick and calling her a cunt??”
Boomer: "well I'd be acting like you I suppose"
Me: "okay so you understand you fucked up then, YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ANOTHER MANS WIFE LIKE THIS WITHOUT EXPECTING A HUSBAND TO SHOW UP AND SAY SOMETHING"...
Boomer: "SHE PURPOSELY PUT A DEAD CAT ON MY ROSES"
Me:" no she moved someone's dead pet from the street out of respect and trauma from witnessing a pet get ran over" * admitted dick move, Knowing he lost his goldy a few months ago I ask* "sir have you ever lost a pet?"
Boomer: reacts some nonverbally "yes I've had multiple pets die in my arms"
Me: "imagine your last pet getting ran over, and then ran over by another car and another and another, now that is how some kid is probably going to feel from that mobile home park over there, as that's their cat."
NOTE down the alley behind his fence there's a small mobile home park with some super sweet families and are great neighbors, my son goes to school with their kids, solid people I'm happy to call my neighbors...
Boomer: "I don't fucking care about those Mexican kids and it's a dead cat. Who fucking cares, keep IT OFF MY FUCKING ROSES!"
Me: "first off youre a fucking bigot to bring their ethnicity into this, that doesn't change a fucking thing old man, act your age and have some self respect. YOU think you're a man, be a man and act like one, heres the difference between men and boys, men, care about their community and I was raised properly to respect and be kind to my neighbors, it's obvious you don't care how anyone in the community sees you."
I quietly, firmly said, " you don't talk to my wife, she won't talk to you. You have any issues, you talk to me and best watch how you approach me. I have surveillance and will ensure this is handled correctly"
I saw loads of sweat rolling down the wrinkles of his face and looked into his jaundice laiden eyes. Decided to beat him at his own game, stuck out my hand and he instinctively shook it.
I vice gripped it and muttered, "and if you ever talk to me or my family like that again, I'll be going to jail..." And walked off.
I hear as I walk back up the driveway, the Karen friend say “he made good points about a lot of that Ed, probably the best resolution you could've hoped for"
Not really shocked or surprised this occurred, just disappointed
I copied and pasted most of the transcript here from the recording and watched the footage from the videos, it seems to have gone exactly like my wife said... /Facepalm end rant
Tldr: boomer berates my wife and then tells her to suck his dick, for her trying to get a dead pet out of the street, so I confronted him.
2024.05.19 21:05 ramdytis3c Unposted Tracks - Part3 [Out 2024-05-17] [Euphoric Echo Records]
MER - You and Me (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 3:53, MP3 9.50 Mb
MILKDONNA - Erotica (Extended) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 5:16, MP3 12.96 Mb
MIMIR - Deep Vibe (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:30, MP3 13.34 Mb
MLF - We Both Know (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 4:01, MP3 9.85 Mb
MM2BE - The Day of Decision (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 133, 5:40, MP3 13.77 Mb
Mat-R - Afterparty in the West (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 145, 5:38, MP3 13.93 Mb
Mat-R - Kisses with Salt (6del remix) / Key Fm, BPM 135, 5:57, MP3 14.72 Mb
Mat-R - Kisses with Salt (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 150, 6:05, MP3 15.01 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Atma (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 138, 6:09, MP3 15.30 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Disorder (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 141, 5:34, MP3 13.90 Mb
Mathys Lenne - H23 (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 5:13, MP3 13.07 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Hymn (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 144, 5:02, MP3 12.62 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Satellite (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 5:22, MP3 13.44 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Tesseract (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 142, 5:35, MP3 13.94 Mb
Matt Banga - HOLA (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 130, 7:13, MP3 17.43 Mb
Matt Caseli - R.O.A.R (Extended Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 126, 5:24, MP3 13.03 Mb
Matteo Lugg - I Can Dream (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 123, 5:50, MP3 14.25 Mb
Mauu - A24 (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 6:36, MP3 16.06 Mb
Maxell Davis - I Chose Jazz (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 110, 3:51, MP3 9.55 Mb
Maxomar - Hold Me (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 3:26, MP3 8.38 Mb
Maxomar - Hold Me (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 2:23, MP3 5.88 Mb
May Nero - Chip'n Roll (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 120, 2:28, MP3 6.21 Mb
Mdna - Sadness (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 110, 6:15, MP3 15.09 Mb
Mees Mattern - Da Slapper (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 5:38, MP3 13.80 Mb
Mees Mattern - Da Slapper (Wouter S Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 5:25, MP3 13.26 Mb
Mega BT, LebToniQ - Here We Are (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 117, 7:13, MP3 17.59 Mb
Melt - Advance (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 7:04, MP3 17.40 Mb
Melt - Fatty (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 127, 6:38, MP3 16.38 Mb
Melt - Melting (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:11, MP3 15.27 Mb
Melt - Swingarrr (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 7:42, MP3 18.94 Mb
Melt - The Fear (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 130, 5:58, MP3 14.78 Mb
Melt - Vibrance (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 6:34, MP3 16.19 Mb
Menary - Music Please (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 123, 7:09, MP3 17.39 Mb
Menary - Original Rude Boy (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 123, 7:13, MP3 17.54 Mb
Mendo - Chakeup (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.52 Mb
Mendo - Drink and Then Repeat (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.52 Mb
Mendo - I Like That (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 5:47, MP3 13.99 Mb
Mert Yontan - Yak Beni (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 122, 1:34, MP3 3.93 Mb
Mezer The Architect - Shake That (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 145, 5:20, MP3 13.06 Mb
Miami Shakers - My Empire (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 2:57, MP3 7.39 Mb
Michael Bird - We can fly away (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 123, 6:31, MP3 15.84 Mb
Michalski - Living The Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 138, 8:42, MP3 21.14 Mb
Michalski - Wake Up and Smell The Coffee (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 138, 7:18, MP3 17.80 Mb
Michel De Hey - Hot Like That (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 127, 5:26, MP3 13.36 Mb
Michel De Hey - Pressure You (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 5:34, MP3 13.68 Mb
Michele Cartello - Tech Dive (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 122, 6:08, MP3 14.80 Mb
Miguel Malaga, Zeus Lopez - Acid Malaga (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 131, 6:50, MP3 16.83 Mb
Miguel Scott - I Need You (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 117, 6:01, MP3 14.64 Mb
Mike Bentley - Mariana Trench (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 7:34, MP3 18.62 Mb
Mike Epsse, Filex - From The Masters (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 3:50, MP3 9.46 Mb
Mike Trend - Strong (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 121, 6:34, MP3 15.92 Mb
Millers Dreams - Oceanic Pulse (Sumbasia Chill) / Key Dm, BPM 110, 7:38, MP3 18.53 Mb
Millers Dreams - Tranquil Horizons (Original) / Key Gm, BPM 159, 4:54, MP3 11.97 Mb
Milou, Few Wolves - Sleepover (John Alto Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 126, 2:42, MP3 6.94 Mb
Milou, Few Wolves - Sleepover (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 105, 2:52, MP3 7.20 Mb
MindFreak - Step To Rythm (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 6:03, MP3 15.06 Mb
MindFreak - Step To Rythm (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 4:18, MP3 10.88 Mb
Ministry Of Funk - Fade (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 3:23, MP3 8.26 Mb
Ministry Of Funk - Fascination (Techno Pop Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:00, MP3 12.14 Mb
Minus - Aaja (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 2:02, MP3 5.24 Mb
Mister Sweatband - Airglow (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 4:12, MP3 10.18 Mb
Mister Sweatband - Dreamscape (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:21, MP3 10.53 Mb
Mitch Oliver, Tyler Mesa - Bang That Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 6:15, MP3 15.35 Mb
Mixed Methods - All Night (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 6:23, MP3 15.61 Mb
Mo'Cream - We Trust In House (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 6:51, MP3 16.67 Mb
Mokina, carbeau - Esse Dia (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 109, 3:51, MP3 9.70 Mb
Monoir - Summer's Gone (Loredvn Remix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 2:48, MP3 7.01 Mb
Monoton Official - The World (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 3:15, MP3 8.17 Mb
Monsters At Work - Hipnotize (Tech Groove Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 100, 7:29, MP3 18.44 Mb
Monsters At Work - Hypnotize (Original Mix) / Key D, BPM 100, 7:26, MP3 18.30 Mb
Moo Ve - Fauna (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 6:44, MP3 16.39 Mb
Moo Ve - I Need Fresh Air (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 5:54, MP3 14.39 Mb
Moodler - 5th In Line (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 5:46, MP3 13.88 Mb
Moonwax - Cameae (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 7:40, MP3 18.57 Mb
Morex87 - Woo (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 4:00, MP3 9.66 Mb
Orangutang Tiddies - Check Out This Sound (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 6:13, MP3 15.24 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Reddish Glow (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 139, 5:19, MP3 12.81 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Sunlight Blinded His Eyes (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 139, 5:41, MP3 13.67 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Sweat And The Salt (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 93, 5:05, MP3 12.25 Mb
Oscar Mulero - Why Are You Holding a Gun? (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 140, 5:07, MP3 12.32 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Always This (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:02, MP3 12.36 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Boriqua (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 142, 5:00, MP3 12.14 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Funk You (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 5:03, MP3 12.41 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Old Groove (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 140, 5:22, MP3 13.18 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Telekinesis (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 144, 5:13, MP3 12.67 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Verbal Incontinence (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 4:59, MP3 12.11 Mb
Oska, Oi - Jupiter (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:55, MP3 14.60 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - High Heels (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 141, 6:03, MP3 14.86 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Organised Confusion (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 141, 5:30, MP3 13.54 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Waveform Reversal (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 5:50, MP3 14.36 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Way Back (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 141, 6:01, MP3 14.79 Mb
P3TZOS - PULSAR (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 130, 3:42, MP3 9.24 Mb
P59 - AVE (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 2:55, MP3 7.26 Mb
PAYSON, Kodi Wyoming, Landon Banks - Impala (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 2:50, MP3 6.99 Mb
PEACE MAKER! - Sit Down: Right Now (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:19, MP3 12.94 Mb
Pakard - Desire (SYEP024) / Key F#m, BPM 147, 5:18, MP3 13.00 Mb
Pakard - Feeling Your Skin (SYEP024) / Key Bbm, BPM 145, 5:58, MP3 14.62 Mb
Pakard - Forbidden Pleasure (SYEP024) / Key Em, BPM 145, 5:07, MP3 12.59 Mb
Pakard - Friction (SYEP024) / Key F#m, BPM 143, 5:27, MP3 13.36 Mb
Pakard - Something's Going on There (SYEP024) / Key Bbm, BPM 145, 5:21, MP3 13.12 Mb
Pakard - Something's Going on There (The Miller Remix) / Key A, BPM 137, 6:07, MP3 14.96 Mb
Pam Sessions - React (Club Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 126, 4:19, MP3 10.98 Mb
Pando G - Eleceted (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 118, 6:02, MP3 14.60 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Nocturnal (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 4:36, MP3 11.54 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Sunday Morning (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 4:56, MP3 12.34 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Twilight Vibe (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 5:23, MP3 13.41 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Urban Echoes (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 4:54, MP3 12.25 Mb
Paride Pavone - Full Moon (Aiden Dahlia Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 6:30, MP3 15.73 Mb
Paride Pavone - Full Moon (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 5:11, MP3 12.59 Mb
Paride Pavone - Skyfall (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 121, 5:40, MP3 13.74 Mb
Paride Pavone - Without You (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 122, 5:03, MP3 12.25 Mb
Patric Cele, Lawzah - Ignorance House (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 123, 6:04, MP3 14.86 Mb
Patrick Topping, Ewan McVicar - Northern Rhythm (Extended) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 4:49, MP3 11.71 Mb
Patty Roggo - Gospel (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 2:29, MP3 6.22 Mb
Paul Kwitek - Emanations (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 9:40, MP3 23.32 Mb
Paul Renard (NL) - Free Your Mind (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 148, 5:57, MP3 14.54 Mb
Paul Renard (NL) - Your Free Mind (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:14, MP3 15.20 Mb
Paul Ritch - Discotek (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 144, 5:52, MP3 14.31 Mb
Paula Sanz - Pesante Castigo (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 4:07, MP3 9.98 Mb
Paww Firpo - Eternity (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 129, 6:28, MP3 15.79 Mb
Pedroz - Voodoo Ass (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 5:17, MP3 13.23 Mb
Pembroke - Bird of Paradise (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 7:20, MP3 17.72 Mb
Pembroke - Keffiyeh (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 6:49, MP3 16.47 Mb
Pembroke - Where It Belongs (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 132, 5:53, MP3 14.25 Mb
Pembroke - Wishing Star (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 6:08, MP3 14.84 Mb
Peppe Santangelo - I am mad (feat Venessa Jackson) (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 10:28, MP3 25.31 Mb
Peppe Santangelo - Testing (feat Venessa Jackson) (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 124, 6:58, MP3 16.93 Mb
Per QX - Together (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 5:45, MP3 14.13 Mb
Perri (it) - Like This (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 5:55, MP3 14.42 Mb
Peter Pistol Johnston - Break Free (MiNNt Edit Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 6:01, MP3 14.71 Mb
Peter Pistol Johnston - Break Free (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:22, MP3 13.15 Mb
Phunk Le Chique - Booya (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 127, 5:15, MP3 12.84 Mb
Phyxx - Juno (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 5:34, MP3 13.62 Mb
Phyxx - Organic (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 5:11, MP3 12.70 Mb
Phyxx - Strange Head (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 142, 5:38, MP3 13.79 Mb
Phyxx - Twin (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 5:34, MP3 13.62 Mb
Pim Umenzi - Not Available (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 3:01, MP3 7.32 Mb
Pim Umenzi - Not Available (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 2:05, MP3 5.05 Mb
Pirate Copy, Nicolas Caprile - All Eyes Above (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 6:12, MP3 14.99 Mb
Pirate Copy, Nicolas Caprile - All Eyes Above (Leon (Italy) Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:35, MP3 13.53 Mb
Pl4yfields - Jungle Juice (Extended) / Key G, BPM 126, 3:37, MP3 9.06 Mb
Playlisters - Boom Boom (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 3:17, MP3 8.11 Mb
Pontifexx, Avi Snow, No/Me, Patrus - Begging For Healing (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 4:40, MP3 11.74 Mb
Pra Jescu - Ekkoha (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 122, 7:45, MP3 18.74 Mb
Pres - Conjure (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 145, 4:31, MP3 10.94 Mb
Pres - Contagious (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 145, 5:18, MP3 12.79 Mb
Pres - Default Mechanism (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 143, 5:22, MP3 12.97 Mb
Pres - Reakt (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 146, 5:16, MP3 12.71 Mb
Pres - These Are The Good Times (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 146, 4:49, MP3 11.63 Mb
Pres - Well Wisher (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 145, 5:18, MP3 12.79 Mb
Proa Deejay - Everybody is Dancing (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 6:27, MP3 15.78 Mb
Proppa, CJ. - Steppin' Out (Extended Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 5:25, MP3 13.19 Mb
Protagon - Yummy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 7:03, MP3 17.01 Mb
Purple Palms - Take My Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 5:07, MP3 12.71 Mb
Qappra - Echo (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 5:35, MP3 13.78 Mb
Qual & Freude - Rhythmische Bewegungen (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 137, 5:15, MP3 12.92 Mb
QubiqueSmall - Broken Heart (ArcadeDub_Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 117, 7:48, MP3 19.16 Mb
Quintin Kelly - Anterograde (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 138, 6:44, MP3 16.25 Mb
R3WIRE, NuKey - For The Love (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 5:48, MP3 14.45 Mb
RAW_BEE - Industry Plant (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 84, 7:03, MP3 17.25 Mb
RAW_BEE - Stealth Occupation (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 136, 6:54, MP3 16.91 Mb
REVALI - GM2TD (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 3:08, MP3 7.76 Mb
RE_MAART - Denied (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 140, 5:58, MP3 14.53 Mb
RE_MAART - Dense (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 5:52, MP3 14.31 Mb
RE_MAART - Dense (Techflex Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 138, 4:39, MP3 11.38 Mb
RE_MAART - Disturbance (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 93, 6:26, MP3 15.67 Mb
RIZZER - Right Here, Right Now (Marlon J. Remix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 5:57, MP3 14.58 Mb
RN7, YOSHI (GER) - Acid Rave (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 134, 6:09, MP3 15.17 Mb
Rafa Fradejas - Bien Duro (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 129, 5:24, MP3 13.35 Mb
Rafa Fradejas - Tratra Boom (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 129, 5:39, MP3 13.95 Mb
Rafasan - Freak (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 3:34, MP3 8.94 Mb
Raho - Hypnotic Sequence (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:27, MP3 15.68 Mb
Raho - My Half (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 6:18, MP3 15.29 Mb
Raho - No Response (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 142, 6:22, MP3 15.46 Mb
Raized - Chikichack (Origina lMix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:41, MP3 16.18 Mb
RamilMusix - Our Voices (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 110, 2:16, MP3 5.63 Mb
RanchaTek, Phased - Sensual Surrender (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 5:29, MP3 13.42 Mb
RanchaTek, Phased - Somewhere in Space (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:08, MP3 15.00 Mb
Randromia - Darkroom Disco (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 5:07, MP3 12.90 Mb
Rangel Coelho - All Night Long (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 134, 8:00, MP3 19.59 Mb
Rangel Coelho - Dance Yall (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:52, MP3 16.83 Mb
Rangel Coelho - Sound Test (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 145, 6:12, MP3 15.24 Mb
Ras Martin - Just Smile (Lempo Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 4:15, MP3 10.38 Mb
Ras Martin - Just Smile (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 5:25, MP3 13.20 Mb
Raskal, Raskal (US) - Lucid Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 139, 8:38, MP3 21.25 Mb
Raul Young - Affright (Dub Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raul Young - Affright (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raul Young - Ingredients (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 5:05, MP3 12.77 Mb
Raul Young - Resuscitate (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raumakustik - Fastlane (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:34, MP3 13.52 Mb
Raumakustik - Fastlane (Marius Drescher Extended Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 6:11, MP3 15.01 Mb
Rave Child - Comfortable Distance (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 131, 6:28, MP3 15.85 Mb
Ray Kajioka - Shhh, Shhh (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 143, 6:07, MP3 14.81 Mb
Razario - Better Off Alone (Extended Version) / Key Bm, BPM 126, 4:51, MP3 11.94 Mb
Regis - LET LOVE DECIDE (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 126, 6:01, MP3 14.60 Mb
Renato S, Dominic Candela - The Mexican (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:00, MP3 12.22 Mb
Repajaro - I Hate Tax (Norwood & Hills Remix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 5:41, MP3 13.89 Mb
Resilient - Check Me Out (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 4:54, MP3 11.96 Mb
Resilient - Holy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 5:15, MP3 12.79 Mb
Reza Golroo - Maiden (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 128, 5:03, MP3 12.33 Mb
Rheak - Village (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 140, 6:29, MP3 15.84 Mb
Ribguga - Ungrd (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.49 Mb
Rick Silva - Feels Fine (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 121, 7:01, MP3 16.99 Mb
Rico Puestel - Volute (2024 Remaster) (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 119, 7:36, MP3 18.31 Mb
Rico Puestel, Tom Wax - The Re-Vision (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 132, 6:28, MP3 15.97 Mb
Rinat K. - Prove It (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 6:13, MP3 15.22 Mb
Ritz - Illusory Concept (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 6:36, MP3 15.94 Mb
Ritz - Tomorrow Is Today's Dream (Lo-Fi Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 6:08, MP3 14.81 Mb
Ro VERDII, X-VR - PRETTY V (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 6:49, MP3 16.60 Mb
Robag Wruhme - Wabb Bodun (Andre Kronert Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:33, MP3 15.83 Mb
Robag Wruhme - Wabb Bodun (Andre Kronert Straight Back Remix) / Key D, BPM 126, 7:10, MP3 17.30 Mb
Robbe, NivEK - The Riddle (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 2:31, MP3 6.31 Mb
Robbe, NivEK - The Riddle (Sped Up) / Key Abm, BPM 163, 2:14, MP3 5.66 Mb
Robert Owens, Sascha Dive - Natural forces (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 123, 8:24, MP3 20.46 Mb
Robin Hirte - Toccata (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 150, 2:29, MP3 6.31 Mb
Roby M Rage - Blue Jelly (Claas Herrmann Remix) / Key Em, BPM 131, 6:51, MP3 16.98 Mb
Roby M Rage - No Feat To Go (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 7:00, MP3 17.38 Mb
Rodle, Asdee - Ride It feat. Asdee (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 109, 1:55, MP3 4.89 Mb
Roger Lavelle - Take Control (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 135, 5:35, MP3 13.87 Mb
Romain Richard - Artemis Program (Original) / Key G, BPM 132, 5:35, MP3 13.75 Mb
Romain Richard - Dark Universe (Original) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 5:16, MP3 13.02 Mb
Romain Richard - Launch to the Moon (Original) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 3:39, MP3 9.12 Mb
Romain Richard - Nova Rocket (Original) / Key C, BPM 135, 5:02, MP3 12.46 Mb
Romain Richard - Secret Invasion (Original) / Key Em, BPM 134, 5:22, MP3 13.26 Mb
Romeo Louisa - Magnetism (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 126, 5:59, MP3 14.93 Mb
Rona Ray, beatsbyhand - Say Yes feat. Rona Ray (Jimpster Extended Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 122, 6:10, MP3 15.04 Mb
Roque - Warm Jazz (Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 120, 6:00, MP3 14.73 Mb
Ross Harper - Darkest Dawn (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 135, 6:20, MP3 15.84 Mb
Ross Harper - Move Now (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 139, 6:53, MP3 17.16 Mb
Ross Harper - Uplift Your Soul (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:06, MP3 15.28 Mb
Ross Harper - You Get This (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 8:36, MP3 21.28 Mb
Roulth, JayLu - Silent Pulse (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 129, 5:00, MP3 12.16 Mb
Roworth, Poach - Acid Alley (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 5:55, MP3 14.24 Mb
Roworth, Poach - Tribal Calling (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.26 Mb
Roxy Nox - Droppin' It (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 4:04, MP3 9.91 Mb
Roxy Nox - Droppin' It (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 3:03, MP3 7.47 Mb
Rumpus, Haylee Wood - Dance With Me (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 4:36, MP3 11.20 Mb
Rushton Avenue - Survival (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 3:15, MP3 7.89 Mb
Rwbel - Nrg (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 6:34, MP3 15.93 Mb
Ryan Nichols - Kick Back (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 3:39, MP3 9.08 Mb
Ryno - Fading (Original Mix) / Key D, BPM 120, 5:12, MP3 12.53 Mb
Ryzio, Reox (VE) - Wepa (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:40, MP3 13.89 Mb
S1NTD - My Heart Went Boom (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 2:07, MP3 5.23 Mb
SACRED H3ART - Whats Good (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:45, MP3 11.51 Mb
SAMOH - Desire Is The Curse (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 144, 7:15, MP3 17.78 Mb
SAMOH - I Am Your Leader (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 147, 7:06, MP3 17.43 Mb
SAMOH - LSDXTC (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 6:32, MP3 16.07 Mb
SAMOH - Love & Compassion (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 148, 6:12, MP3 15.27 Mb
SAMOH - Lower Expectations (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 146, 7:07, MP3 17.48 Mb
SAMOH - Slave To Society (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 145, 6:17, MP3 15.48 Mb
Sam Nausy - Essence Of Life (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 126, 5:54, MP3 14.50 Mb
Samtroy - Hot For The Beat (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 6:09, MP3 14.93 Mb
Samtroy - I'm Not Gonna Lie (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 5:13, MP3 12.70 Mb
Sanchez (UK) - Love Workk (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 6:43, MP3 16.27 Mb
Sanchez (UK) - Stand Up (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:03, MP3 14.68 Mb
Sante Sansone - Direct! (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 130, 6:25, MP3 15.69 Mb
Sante Sansone - Jump Game (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 130, 6:39, MP3 16.27 Mb
Santiago Alamo - Angel Eyes (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 5:41, MP3 13.77 Mb
TEKKFLOW - Reflection (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 140, 2:33, MP3 6.39 Mb
TEKKFLOW - Reflection (Sped Up) / Key Fm, BPM 149, 2:23, MP3 6.02 Mb
TESSUB - Equator (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 6:07, MP3 15.28 Mb
TESSUB - Mass (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 131, 5:01, MP3 12.63 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Struggle and Hope (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 7:18, MP3 17.74 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Synopsis (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 6:58, MP3 16.94 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Veiled Descen (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 7:15, MP3 17.60 Mb
Tanta Waka - New Wave (Morishige Extended Remix) / Key Bb, BPM 124, 7:45, MP3 18.76 Mb
Tarker - Adversion (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 139, 5:38, MP3 13.88 Mb
Tarker - Dura Mater (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 71, 5:35, MP3 13.77 Mb
Tarker - Friendly Reminder (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 141, 5:59, MP3 14.74 Mb
Tarker - Matritz Polar (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 141, 4:41, MP3 11.60 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Mutant By Moonlight (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:37, MP3 18.83 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Nomads At Ground Zero (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:31, MP3 18.60 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Solitude From Above (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:45, MP3 19.16 Mb
Tate Flowers - Fuji (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.47 Mb
Tatum Duke - Press Play (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:07, MP3 12.58 Mb
Teboho Nkone - Regnar To Bjorn (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 120, 6:25, MP3 15.45 Mb
Teboho Nkone, Patric Cele - Demands Of Imperialism (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 118, 5:45, MP3 13.88 Mb
Techno Red - Underground Abyss (21 ROOM Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 130, 6:09, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techno Red - Underground Abyss (Underground Loop Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 6:09, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techouzer - Bounce This (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:07, MP3 14.97 Mb
Techouzer - Deepest Desire (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 6:05, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techouzer - Iron Loop (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 6:07, MP3 14.97 Mb
Techouzer - Wait for It (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 5:50, MP3 14.29 Mb
Techsonik - Favela Fire (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 123, 4:49, MP3 11.85 Mb
Techsonik - Glow (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 4:58, MP3 12.19 Mb
Techsonik - Ice Cave (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 124, 5:36, MP3 13.72 Mb
Techsonik - Monsoon (Original Mix) / Key B, BPM 125, 5:40, MP3 13.88 Mb
Techsonik - Touch of Heaven (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 100, 6:00, MP3 14.67 Mb
Tegi, Jay Bird - Dancing (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 134, 5:03, MP3 12.49 Mb
Tegi, Jay Bird - Dancing (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 134, 3:22, MP3 8.48 Mb
Teklix - Way Of Zen (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 122, 7:29, MP3 18.23 Mb
Telos - Diffraction IV (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 135, 5:46, MP3 14.00 Mb
Telos - Diffraction V (Original Mix) / Key Ab, BPM 135, 5:49, MP3 14.11 Mb
Telos - Diffusion (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 140, 5:47, MP3 14.02 Mb
Telos - Diffusion II (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 93, 5:36, MP3 13.59 Mb
Temudo - Pormenor Sordido (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 137, 5:24, MP3 13.10 Mb
Tender Games, Marc Brauner - Love Keeper (HATT.D Downtempo Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 100, 4:31, MP3 10.87 Mb
Teo Harouda - Loud Silence (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 137, 6:05, MP3 14.97 Mb
That Kid Chris - Come Together (Electric Mood Mix (Remastered)) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 8:02, MP3 19.44 Mb
That Kid Chris - Satisfied (Original Mix (Remastered)) / Key Am, BPM 133, 7:44, MP3 18.72 Mb
DOWNLOAD - progonlymusic com
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MER - You and Me (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 3:53, MP3 9.50 Mb
MILKDONNA - Erotica (Extended) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 5:16, MP3 12.96 Mb
MIMIR - Deep Vibe (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:30, MP3 13.34 Mb
MLF - We Both Know (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 4:01, MP3 9.85 Mb
MM2BE - The Day of Decision (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 133, 5:40, MP3 13.77 Mb
Mat-R - Afterparty in the West (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 145, 5:38, MP3 13.93 Mb
Mat-R - Kisses with Salt (6del remix) / Key Fm, BPM 135, 5:57, MP3 14.72 Mb
Mat-R - Kisses with Salt (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 150, 6:05, MP3 15.01 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Atma (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 138, 6:09, MP3 15.30 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Disorder (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 141, 5:34, MP3 13.90 Mb
Mathys Lenne - H23 (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 5:13, MP3 13.07 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Hymn (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 144, 5:02, MP3 12.62 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Satellite (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 5:22, MP3 13.44 Mb
Mathys Lenne - Tesseract (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 142, 5:35, MP3 13.94 Mb
Matt Banga - HOLA (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 130, 7:13, MP3 17.43 Mb
Matt Caseli - R.O.A.R (Extended Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 126, 5:24, MP3 13.03 Mb
Matteo Lugg - I Can Dream (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 123, 5:50, MP3 14.25 Mb
Mauu - A24 (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 6:36, MP3 16.06 Mb
Maxell Davis - I Chose Jazz (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 110, 3:51, MP3 9.55 Mb
Maxomar - Hold Me (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 3:26, MP3 8.38 Mb
Maxomar - Hold Me (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 2:23, MP3 5.88 Mb
May Nero - Chip'n Roll (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 120, 2:28, MP3 6.21 Mb
Mdna - Sadness (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 110, 6:15, MP3 15.09 Mb
Mees Mattern - Da Slapper (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 5:38, MP3 13.80 Mb
Mees Mattern - Da Slapper (Wouter S Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 5:25, MP3 13.26 Mb
Mega BT, LebToniQ - Here We Are (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 117, 7:13, MP3 17.59 Mb
Melt - Advance (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 7:04, MP3 17.40 Mb
Melt - Fatty (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 127, 6:38, MP3 16.38 Mb
Melt - Melting (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:11, MP3 15.27 Mb
Melt - Swingarrr (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 7:42, MP3 18.94 Mb
Melt - The Fear (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 130, 5:58, MP3 14.78 Mb
Melt - Vibrance (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 6:34, MP3 16.19 Mb
Menary - Music Please (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 123, 7:09, MP3 17.39 Mb
Menary - Original Rude Boy (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 123, 7:13, MP3 17.54 Mb
Mendo - Chakeup (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.52 Mb
Mendo - Drink and Then Repeat (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.52 Mb
Mendo - I Like That (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 5:47, MP3 13.99 Mb
Mert Yontan - Yak Beni (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 122, 1:34, MP3 3.93 Mb
Mezer The Architect - Shake That (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 145, 5:20, MP3 13.06 Mb
Miami Shakers - My Empire (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 2:57, MP3 7.39 Mb
Michael Bird - We can fly away (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 123, 6:31, MP3 15.84 Mb
Michalski - Living The Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 138, 8:42, MP3 21.14 Mb
Michalski - Wake Up and Smell The Coffee (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 138, 7:18, MP3 17.80 Mb
Michel De Hey - Hot Like That (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 127, 5:26, MP3 13.36 Mb
Michel De Hey - Pressure You (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 5:34, MP3 13.68 Mb
Michele Cartello - Tech Dive (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 122, 6:08, MP3 14.80 Mb
Miguel Malaga, Zeus Lopez - Acid Malaga (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 131, 6:50, MP3 16.83 Mb
Miguel Scott - I Need You (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 117, 6:01, MP3 14.64 Mb
Mike Bentley - Mariana Trench (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 7:34, MP3 18.62 Mb
Mike Epsse, Filex - From The Masters (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 3:50, MP3 9.46 Mb
Mike Trend - Strong (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 121, 6:34, MP3 15.92 Mb
Millers Dreams - Oceanic Pulse (Sumbasia Chill) / Key Dm, BPM 110, 7:38, MP3 18.53 Mb
Millers Dreams - Tranquil Horizons (Original) / Key Gm, BPM 159, 4:54, MP3 11.97 Mb
Milou, Few Wolves - Sleepover (John Alto Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 126, 2:42, MP3 6.94 Mb
Milou, Few Wolves - Sleepover (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 105, 2:52, MP3 7.20 Mb
MindFreak - Step To Rythm (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 6:03, MP3 15.06 Mb
MindFreak - Step To Rythm (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 4:18, MP3 10.88 Mb
Ministry Of Funk - Fade (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 3:23, MP3 8.26 Mb
Ministry Of Funk - Fascination (Techno Pop Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:00, MP3 12.14 Mb
Minus - Aaja (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 2:02, MP3 5.24 Mb
Mister Sweatband - Airglow (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 4:12, MP3 10.18 Mb
Mister Sweatband - Dreamscape (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:21, MP3 10.53 Mb
Mitch Oliver, Tyler Mesa - Bang That Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 6:15, MP3 15.35 Mb
Mixed Methods - All Night (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 6:23, MP3 15.61 Mb
Mo'Cream - We Trust In House (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 6:51, MP3 16.67 Mb
Mokina, carbeau - Esse Dia (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 109, 3:51, MP3 9.70 Mb
Monoir - Summer's Gone (Loredvn Remix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 2:48, MP3 7.01 Mb
Monoton Official - The World (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 3:15, MP3 8.17 Mb
Monsters At Work - Hipnotize (Tech Groove Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 100, 7:29, MP3 18.44 Mb
Monsters At Work - Hypnotize (Original Mix) / Key D, BPM 100, 7:26, MP3 18.30 Mb
Moo Ve - Fauna (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 6:44, MP3 16.39 Mb
Moo Ve - I Need Fresh Air (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 5:54, MP3 14.39 Mb
Moodler - 5th In Line (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 5:46, MP3 13.88 Mb
Moonwax - Cameae (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 123, 7:40, MP3 18.57 Mb
Morex87 - Woo (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 4:00, MP3 9.66 Mb
Orangutang Tiddies - Check Out This Sound (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 6:13, MP3 15.24 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Reddish Glow (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 139, 5:19, MP3 12.81 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Sunlight Blinded His Eyes (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 139, 5:41, MP3 13.67 Mb
Oscar Mulero - The Sweat And The Salt (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 93, 5:05, MP3 12.25 Mb
Oscar Mulero - Why Are You Holding a Gun? (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 140, 5:07, MP3 12.32 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Always This (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:02, MP3 12.36 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Boriqua (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 142, 5:00, MP3 12.14 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Funk You (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 5:03, MP3 12.41 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Old Groove (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 140, 5:22, MP3 13.18 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Telekinesis (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 144, 5:13, MP3 12.67 Mb
Oscar Sanchez - Verbal Incontinence (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 4:59, MP3 12.11 Mb
Oska, Oi - Jupiter (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:55, MP3 14.60 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - High Heels (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 141, 6:03, MP3 14.86 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Organised Confusion (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 141, 5:30, MP3 13.54 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Waveform Reversal (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 5:50, MP3 14.36 Mb
P.E.A.R.L. - Way Back (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 141, 6:01, MP3 14.79 Mb
P3TZOS - PULSAR (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 130, 3:42, MP3 9.24 Mb
P59 - AVE (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 2:55, MP3 7.26 Mb
PAYSON, Kodi Wyoming, Landon Banks - Impala (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 2:50, MP3 6.99 Mb
PEACE MAKER! - Sit Down: Right Now (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:19, MP3 12.94 Mb
Pakard - Desire (SYEP024) / Key F#m, BPM 147, 5:18, MP3 13.00 Mb
Pakard - Feeling Your Skin (SYEP024) / Key Bbm, BPM 145, 5:58, MP3 14.62 Mb
Pakard - Forbidden Pleasure (SYEP024) / Key Em, BPM 145, 5:07, MP3 12.59 Mb
Pakard - Friction (SYEP024) / Key F#m, BPM 143, 5:27, MP3 13.36 Mb
Pakard - Something's Going on There (SYEP024) / Key Bbm, BPM 145, 5:21, MP3 13.12 Mb
Pakard - Something's Going on There (The Miller Remix) / Key A, BPM 137, 6:07, MP3 14.96 Mb
Pam Sessions - React (Club Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 126, 4:19, MP3 10.98 Mb
Pando G - Eleceted (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 118, 6:02, MP3 14.60 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Nocturnal (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 4:36, MP3 11.54 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Sunday Morning (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 4:56, MP3 12.34 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Twilight Vibe (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 5:23, MP3 13.41 Mb
Paolo Barbato, Lineki - Urban Echoes (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 4:54, MP3 12.25 Mb
Paride Pavone - Full Moon (Aiden Dahlia Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 6:30, MP3 15.73 Mb
Paride Pavone - Full Moon (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 5:11, MP3 12.59 Mb
Paride Pavone - Skyfall (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 121, 5:40, MP3 13.74 Mb
Paride Pavone - Without You (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 122, 5:03, MP3 12.25 Mb
Patric Cele, Lawzah - Ignorance House (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 123, 6:04, MP3 14.86 Mb
Patrick Topping, Ewan McVicar - Northern Rhythm (Extended) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 4:49, MP3 11.71 Mb
Patty Roggo - Gospel (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 2:29, MP3 6.22 Mb
Paul Kwitek - Emanations (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 9:40, MP3 23.32 Mb
Paul Renard (NL) - Free Your Mind (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 148, 5:57, MP3 14.54 Mb
Paul Renard (NL) - Your Free Mind (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:14, MP3 15.20 Mb
Paul Ritch - Discotek (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 144, 5:52, MP3 14.31 Mb
Paula Sanz - Pesante Castigo (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 4:07, MP3 9.98 Mb
Paww Firpo - Eternity (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 129, 6:28, MP3 15.79 Mb
Pedroz - Voodoo Ass (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 5:17, MP3 13.23 Mb
Pembroke - Bird of Paradise (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 7:20, MP3 17.72 Mb
Pembroke - Keffiyeh (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 6:49, MP3 16.47 Mb
Pembroke - Where It Belongs (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 132, 5:53, MP3 14.25 Mb
Pembroke - Wishing Star (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 6:08, MP3 14.84 Mb
Peppe Santangelo - I am mad (feat Venessa Jackson) (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 10:28, MP3 25.31 Mb
Peppe Santangelo - Testing (feat Venessa Jackson) (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 124, 6:58, MP3 16.93 Mb
Per QX - Together (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 5:45, MP3 14.13 Mb
Perri (it) - Like This (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 5:55, MP3 14.42 Mb
Peter Pistol Johnston - Break Free (MiNNt Edit Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 6:01, MP3 14.71 Mb
Peter Pistol Johnston - Break Free (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:22, MP3 13.15 Mb
Phunk Le Chique - Booya (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 127, 5:15, MP3 12.84 Mb
Phyxx - Juno (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 5:34, MP3 13.62 Mb
Phyxx - Organic (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 5:11, MP3 12.70 Mb
Phyxx - Strange Head (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 142, 5:38, MP3 13.79 Mb
Phyxx - Twin (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 5:34, MP3 13.62 Mb
Pim Umenzi - Not Available (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 3:01, MP3 7.32 Mb
Pim Umenzi - Not Available (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 2:05, MP3 5.05 Mb
Pirate Copy, Nicolas Caprile - All Eyes Above (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 6:12, MP3 14.99 Mb
Pirate Copy, Nicolas Caprile - All Eyes Above (Leon (Italy) Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:35, MP3 13.53 Mb
Pl4yfields - Jungle Juice (Extended) / Key G, BPM 126, 3:37, MP3 9.06 Mb
Playlisters - Boom Boom (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 3:17, MP3 8.11 Mb
Pontifexx, Avi Snow, No/Me, Patrus - Begging For Healing (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 4:40, MP3 11.74 Mb
Pra Jescu - Ekkoha (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 122, 7:45, MP3 18.74 Mb
Pres - Conjure (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 145, 4:31, MP3 10.94 Mb
Pres - Contagious (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 145, 5:18, MP3 12.79 Mb
Pres - Default Mechanism (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 143, 5:22, MP3 12.97 Mb
Pres - Reakt (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 146, 5:16, MP3 12.71 Mb
Pres - These Are The Good Times (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 146, 4:49, MP3 11.63 Mb
Pres - Well Wisher (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 145, 5:18, MP3 12.79 Mb
Proa Deejay - Everybody is Dancing (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 6:27, MP3 15.78 Mb
Proppa, CJ. - Steppin' Out (Extended Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 5:25, MP3 13.19 Mb
Protagon - Yummy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 7:03, MP3 17.01 Mb
Purple Palms - Take My Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 5:07, MP3 12.71 Mb
Qappra - Echo (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 5:35, MP3 13.78 Mb
Qual & Freude - Rhythmische Bewegungen (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 137, 5:15, MP3 12.92 Mb
QubiqueSmall - Broken Heart (ArcadeDub_Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 117, 7:48, MP3 19.16 Mb
Quintin Kelly - Anterograde (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 138, 6:44, MP3 16.25 Mb
R3WIRE, NuKey - For The Love (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 5:48, MP3 14.45 Mb
RAW_BEE - Industry Plant (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 84, 7:03, MP3 17.25 Mb
RAW_BEE - Stealth Occupation (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 136, 6:54, MP3 16.91 Mb
REVALI - GM2TD (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 3:08, MP3 7.76 Mb
RE_MAART - Denied (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 140, 5:58, MP3 14.53 Mb
RE_MAART - Dense (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 5:52, MP3 14.31 Mb
RE_MAART - Dense (Techflex Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 138, 4:39, MP3 11.38 Mb
RE_MAART - Disturbance (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 93, 6:26, MP3 15.67 Mb
RIZZER - Right Here, Right Now (Marlon J. Remix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 5:57, MP3 14.58 Mb
RN7, YOSHI (GER) - Acid Rave (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 134, 6:09, MP3 15.17 Mb
Rafa Fradejas - Bien Duro (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 129, 5:24, MP3 13.35 Mb
Rafa Fradejas - Tratra Boom (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 129, 5:39, MP3 13.95 Mb
Rafasan - Freak (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 3:34, MP3 8.94 Mb
Raho - Hypnotic Sequence (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:27, MP3 15.68 Mb
Raho - My Half (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 6:18, MP3 15.29 Mb
Raho - No Response (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 142, 6:22, MP3 15.46 Mb
Raized - Chikichack (Origina lMix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:41, MP3 16.18 Mb
RamilMusix - Our Voices (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 110, 2:16, MP3 5.63 Mb
RanchaTek, Phased - Sensual Surrender (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 5:29, MP3 13.42 Mb
RanchaTek, Phased - Somewhere in Space (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:08, MP3 15.00 Mb
Randromia - Darkroom Disco (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 5:07, MP3 12.90 Mb
Rangel Coelho - All Night Long (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 134, 8:00, MP3 19.59 Mb
Rangel Coelho - Dance Yall (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:52, MP3 16.83 Mb
Rangel Coelho - Sound Test (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 145, 6:12, MP3 15.24 Mb
Ras Martin - Just Smile (Lempo Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 4:15, MP3 10.38 Mb
Ras Martin - Just Smile (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 5:25, MP3 13.20 Mb
Raskal, Raskal (US) - Lucid Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 139, 8:38, MP3 21.25 Mb
Raul Young - Affright (Dub Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raul Young - Affright (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raul Young - Ingredients (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 5:05, MP3 12.77 Mb
Raul Young - Resuscitate (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 4:55, MP3 12.36 Mb
Raumakustik - Fastlane (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:34, MP3 13.52 Mb
Raumakustik - Fastlane (Marius Drescher Extended Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 125, 6:11, MP3 15.01 Mb
Rave Child - Comfortable Distance (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 131, 6:28, MP3 15.85 Mb
Ray Kajioka - Shhh, Shhh (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 143, 6:07, MP3 14.81 Mb
Razario - Better Off Alone (Extended Version) / Key Bm, BPM 126, 4:51, MP3 11.94 Mb
Regis - LET LOVE DECIDE (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 126, 6:01, MP3 14.60 Mb
Renato S, Dominic Candela - The Mexican (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:00, MP3 12.22 Mb
Repajaro - I Hate Tax (Norwood & Hills Remix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 5:41, MP3 13.89 Mb
Resilient - Check Me Out (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 4:54, MP3 11.96 Mb
Resilient - Holy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 5:15, MP3 12.79 Mb
Reza Golroo - Maiden (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 128, 5:03, MP3 12.33 Mb
Rheak - Village (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 140, 6:29, MP3 15.84 Mb
Ribguga - Ungrd (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.49 Mb
Rick Silva - Feels Fine (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 121, 7:01, MP3 16.99 Mb
Rico Puestel - Volute (2024 Remaster) (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 119, 7:36, MP3 18.31 Mb
Rico Puestel, Tom Wax - The Re-Vision (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 132, 6:28, MP3 15.97 Mb
Rinat K. - Prove It (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 6:13, MP3 15.22 Mb
Ritz - Illusory Concept (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 6:36, MP3 15.94 Mb
Ritz - Tomorrow Is Today's Dream (Lo-Fi Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 126, 6:08, MP3 14.81 Mb
Ro VERDII, X-VR - PRETTY V (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 6:49, MP3 16.60 Mb
Robag Wruhme - Wabb Bodun (Andre Kronert Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:33, MP3 15.83 Mb
Robag Wruhme - Wabb Bodun (Andre Kronert Straight Back Remix) / Key D, BPM 126, 7:10, MP3 17.30 Mb
Robbe, NivEK - The Riddle (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 2:31, MP3 6.31 Mb
Robbe, NivEK - The Riddle (Sped Up) / Key Abm, BPM 163, 2:14, MP3 5.66 Mb
Robert Owens, Sascha Dive - Natural forces (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 123, 8:24, MP3 20.46 Mb
Robin Hirte - Toccata (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 150, 2:29, MP3 6.31 Mb
Roby M Rage - Blue Jelly (Claas Herrmann Remix) / Key Em, BPM 131, 6:51, MP3 16.98 Mb
Roby M Rage - No Feat To Go (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 7:00, MP3 17.38 Mb
Rodle, Asdee - Ride It feat. Asdee (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 109, 1:55, MP3 4.89 Mb
Roger Lavelle - Take Control (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 135, 5:35, MP3 13.87 Mb
Romain Richard - Artemis Program (Original) / Key G, BPM 132, 5:35, MP3 13.75 Mb
Romain Richard - Dark Universe (Original) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 5:16, MP3 13.02 Mb
Romain Richard - Launch to the Moon (Original) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 3:39, MP3 9.12 Mb
Romain Richard - Nova Rocket (Original) / Key C, BPM 135, 5:02, MP3 12.46 Mb
Romain Richard - Secret Invasion (Original) / Key Em, BPM 134, 5:22, MP3 13.26 Mb
Romeo Louisa - Magnetism (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 126, 5:59, MP3 14.93 Mb
Rona Ray, beatsbyhand - Say Yes feat. Rona Ray (Jimpster Extended Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 122, 6:10, MP3 15.04 Mb
Roque - Warm Jazz (Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 120, 6:00, MP3 14.73 Mb
Ross Harper - Darkest Dawn (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 135, 6:20, MP3 15.84 Mb
Ross Harper - Move Now (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 139, 6:53, MP3 17.16 Mb
Ross Harper - Uplift Your Soul (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 6:06, MP3 15.28 Mb
Ross Harper - You Get This (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 142, 8:36, MP3 21.28 Mb
Roulth, JayLu - Silent Pulse (Extended Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 129, 5:00, MP3 12.16 Mb
Roworth, Poach - Acid Alley (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 5:55, MP3 14.24 Mb
Roworth, Poach - Tribal Calling (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.26 Mb
Roxy Nox - Droppin' It (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 4:04, MP3 9.91 Mb
Roxy Nox - Droppin' It (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 3:03, MP3 7.47 Mb
Rumpus, Haylee Wood - Dance With Me (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 4:36, MP3 11.20 Mb
Rushton Avenue - Survival (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 3:15, MP3 7.89 Mb
Rwbel - Nrg (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 6:34, MP3 15.93 Mb
Ryan Nichols - Kick Back (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 3:39, MP3 9.08 Mb
Ryno - Fading (Original Mix) / Key D, BPM 120, 5:12, MP3 12.53 Mb
Ryzio, Reox (VE) - Wepa (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:40, MP3 13.89 Mb
S1NTD - My Heart Went Boom (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 2:07, MP3 5.23 Mb
SACRED H3ART - Whats Good (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:45, MP3 11.51 Mb
SAMOH - Desire Is The Curse (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 144, 7:15, MP3 17.78 Mb
SAMOH - I Am Your Leader (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 147, 7:06, MP3 17.43 Mb
SAMOH - LSDXTC (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 6:32, MP3 16.07 Mb
SAMOH - Love & Compassion (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 148, 6:12, MP3 15.27 Mb
SAMOH - Lower Expectations (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 146, 7:07, MP3 17.48 Mb
SAMOH - Slave To Society (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 145, 6:17, MP3 15.48 Mb
Sam Nausy - Essence Of Life (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 126, 5:54, MP3 14.50 Mb
Samtroy - Hot For The Beat (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 127, 6:09, MP3 14.93 Mb
Samtroy - I'm Not Gonna Lie (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 5:13, MP3 12.70 Mb
Sanchez (UK) - Love Workk (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 6:43, MP3 16.27 Mb
Sanchez (UK) - Stand Up (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:03, MP3 14.68 Mb
Sante Sansone - Direct! (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 130, 6:25, MP3 15.69 Mb
Sante Sansone - Jump Game (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 130, 6:39, MP3 16.27 Mb
Santiago Alamo - Angel Eyes (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 5:41, MP3 13.77 Mb
TEKKFLOW - Reflection (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 140, 2:33, MP3 6.39 Mb
TEKKFLOW - Reflection (Sped Up) / Key Fm, BPM 149, 2:23, MP3 6.02 Mb
TESSUB - Equator (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 6:07, MP3 15.28 Mb
TESSUB - Mass (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 131, 5:01, MP3 12.63 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Struggle and Hope (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 7:18, MP3 17.74 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Synopsis (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 6:58, MP3 16.94 Mb
Takairo Oishi - Veiled Descen (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 138, 7:15, MP3 17.60 Mb
Tanta Waka - New Wave (Morishige Extended Remix) / Key Bb, BPM 124, 7:45, MP3 18.76 Mb
Tarker - Adversion (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 139, 5:38, MP3 13.88 Mb
Tarker - Dura Mater (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 71, 5:35, MP3 13.77 Mb
Tarker - Friendly Reminder (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 141, 5:59, MP3 14.74 Mb
Tarker - Matritz Polar (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 141, 4:41, MP3 11.60 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Mutant By Moonlight (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:37, MP3 18.83 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Nomads At Ground Zero (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:31, MP3 18.60 Mb
Tasos Pletsas - Solitude From Above (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 7:45, MP3 19.16 Mb
Tate Flowers - Fuji (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.47 Mb
Tatum Duke - Press Play (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 5:07, MP3 12.58 Mb
Teboho Nkone - Regnar To Bjorn (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 120, 6:25, MP3 15.45 Mb
Teboho Nkone, Patric Cele - Demands Of Imperialism (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 118, 5:45, MP3 13.88 Mb
Techno Red - Underground Abyss (21 ROOM Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 130, 6:09, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techno Red - Underground Abyss (Underground Loop Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 6:09, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techouzer - Bounce This (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:07, MP3 14.97 Mb
Techouzer - Deepest Desire (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 6:05, MP3 14.89 Mb
Techouzer - Iron Loop (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 6:07, MP3 14.97 Mb
Techouzer - Wait for It (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 5:50, MP3 14.29 Mb
Techsonik - Favela Fire (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 123, 4:49, MP3 11.85 Mb
Techsonik - Glow (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 4:58, MP3 12.19 Mb
Techsonik - Ice Cave (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 124, 5:36, MP3 13.72 Mb
Techsonik - Monsoon (Original Mix) / Key B, BPM 125, 5:40, MP3 13.88 Mb
Techsonik - Touch of Heaven (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 100, 6:00, MP3 14.67 Mb
Tegi, Jay Bird - Dancing (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 134, 5:03, MP3 12.49 Mb
Tegi, Jay Bird - Dancing (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 134, 3:22, MP3 8.48 Mb
Teklix - Way Of Zen (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 122, 7:29, MP3 18.23 Mb
Telos - Diffraction IV (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 135, 5:46, MP3 14.00 Mb
Telos - Diffraction V (Original Mix) / Key Ab, BPM 135, 5:49, MP3 14.11 Mb
Telos - Diffusion (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 140, 5:47, MP3 14.02 Mb
Telos - Diffusion II (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 93, 5:36, MP3 13.59 Mb
Temudo - Pormenor Sordido (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 137, 5:24, MP3 13.10 Mb
Tender Games, Marc Brauner - Love Keeper (HATT.D Downtempo Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 100, 4:31, MP3 10.87 Mb
Teo Harouda - Loud Silence (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 137, 6:05, MP3 14.97 Mb
That Kid Chris - Come Together (Electric Mood Mix (Remastered)) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 8:02, MP3 19.44 Mb
That Kid Chris - Satisfied (Original Mix (Remastered)) / Key Am, BPM 133, 7:44, MP3 18.72 Mb
DOWNLOAD - progonlymusic com
2024.05.19 21:01 Ok_Assist_3568 What is this white patch on roof of mouth
 | Felt some burning on roof of my mouth when eating hot/ acidic food and saw one side had some white spot. Took a picture with the flash and and notice there’s redness as well submitted by Ok_Assist_3568 to askdentists [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 21:01 ramdytis3c Unposted Tracks - Part6 [Out 2024-05-17] [Hypnotic Soul]
1111 MUSICA - Musica - What's Good for Me (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 4:14, MP3 10.32 Mb
21 ROOM - Superstructure (Dub mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 6:24, MP3 15.48 Mb
21 ROOM - Superstructure (Techno Red Dub Remix) / Key Am, BPM 132, 6:18, MP3 15.25 Mb
2livemafia - All Black Party (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 3:49, MP3 9.42 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Close To Home (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 126, 5:55, MP3 14.52 Mb
34th Floor Experience - In The Morning (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 123, 5:31, MP3 13.59 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Moments Of Truth (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 121, 6:23, MP3 15.65 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Obsessed (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 6:15, MP3 15.31 Mb
3rd Collective - Better (Bonfarado Remix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:44, MP3 14.15 Mb
3rd Collective - Better (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 5:05, MP3 12.59 Mb
3rd Collective - Don't Deny (James Chang Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 120, 4:52, MP3 12.07 Mb
3rd Collective - Don't Deny (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 5:08, MP3 12.71 Mb
4 Da People - Escape the Shadows (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 119, 6:06, MP3 14.97 Mb
4 Da People - Fly Free (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 121, 4:32, MP3 11.24 Mb
4UALWAYS - Flashing Lights (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 4:36, MP3 11.32 Mb
6del - UNTITLED1 (Mat-R remix) / Key Gm, BPM 150, 6:56, MP3 17.06 Mb
6del - UNTITLED1 (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 135, 5:13, MP3 12.94 Mb
6del - UNTITLED2 (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 135, 5:52, MP3 14.50 Mb
7KY - Raindrop (Stoto Remix) / Key Bm, BPM 120, 2:00, MP3 5.17 Mb
A Tigers Blood, Supah - Pray For Me (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 145, 3:24, MP3 8.42 Mb
A.P.(84Bit) - Live Now (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 6:01, MP3 14.49 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 150, 2:11, MP3 5.75 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Slowed & Reverbed) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 2:33, MP3 6.63 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Sped Up) / Key Em, BPM 160, 2:02, MP3 5.40 Mb
AKURI, XAVO (BR) - Funky Heroes (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 3:27, MP3 8.52 Mb
AZHARI - My Destiny (Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 4:41, MP3 11.57 Mb
Aaron Martin - Hot Spot (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 129, 5:50, MP3 14.37 Mb
Aaron Martin - Soundklub (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 131, 5:59, MP3 14.74 Mb
Abel (MZ) - Gimmicks (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 4:37, MP3 11.57 Mb
Abel Di Catarina - Dreamer (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 6:36, MP3 15.95 Mb
Abnormal Load - 30303 (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 115, 6:42, MP3 16.48 Mb
Abnormal Load - Anfang (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 140, 9:04, MP3 22.16 Mb
Abnormal Load - Escape The Island (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 98, 4:02, MP3 10.07 Mb
Abnormal Load - Trippin With The Rest (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 154, 4:10, MP3 10.41 Mb
Abnormal Load, Hjertman, Køpman - Shakar featuring Hjertman & Køpman (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 146, 7:37, MP3 18.67 Mb
Abnormal Load, Winding River - Neben Der Spur featuring Winding River (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 148, 6:46, MP3 16.64 Mb
Ackermann - My Dub (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 141, 6:01, MP3 14.54 Mb
Ackermann - My House (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 133, 4:54, MP3 11.88 Mb
Ackermann - No Vacancy (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 129, 5:01, MP3 12.15 Mb
Ackermann - No Vacancy (Skudge Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 137, 5:34, MP3 13.47 Mb
Adel Khan - Kuala Lumpur (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 8:38, MP3 20.82 Mb
Ademir - You Take Me High (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 5:28, MP3 13.66 Mb
Adham Zahran - Crash & Burn (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 115, 8:22, MP3 20.35 Mb
Adham Zahran - Flight of the Phoenix (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 123, 9:40, MP3 23.44 Mb
Adoo - This This (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 138, 6:37, MP3 16.04 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Another Level (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 139, 5:37, MP3 13.61 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Deafening Silence (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 139, 5:19, MP3 12.91 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Midnight Rumors (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 136, 5:21, MP3 12.98 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Tales of Mystery (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 139, 5:36, MP3 13.59 Mb
Aegean - Tied Up (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 3:03, MP3 7.55 Mb
Aiden Francis - Ultrasonic (Original Mix) / Key Ab, BPM 133, 6:05, MP3 14.73 Mb
Aiden Jonah, Stephanie Chloris - Summer Loving (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 100, 3:18, MP3 8.26 Mb
Al-Faris - Deep in Your Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 123, 8:00, MP3 19.29 Mb
Alain Rine - Turkiye (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 105, 2:47, MP3 7.07 Mb
Alan CM, Tatia - Acapulco Vibes (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.70 Mb
Alberto Santana - Liberation (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 138, 6:09, MP3 14.82 Mb
Alejandro Deep - 2024 Tech (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 6:08, MP3 14.80 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Bailar Contigo (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 5:15, MP3 12.69 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Love for Music (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 126, 4:27, MP3 10.76 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Vamos al Dembow (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 125, 5:18, MP3 12.81 Mb
Aleks Born - Tell me a fairy tale (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 110, 3:34, MP3 8.77 Mb
Aleksey Kraft - Moon Fight (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 6:46, MP3 16.51 Mb
Alessandro Pintus, Gianmarco Limenta, Ruska Beats - Vibe with Me (feat. Ruska Beats) (Extended Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:48, MP3 14.03 Mb
Alessio Modrian, samor dj - INFINITE (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 120, 5:35, MP3 13.83 Mb
Alev Tav - 27 (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:29, MP3 13.35 Mb
Alev Tav - 28 (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 5:36, MP3 13.66 Mb
Alex Aleman - Fantasia (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 3:53, MP3 9.42 Mb
Alex Atenciano - Ibiza (Original mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.59 Mb
Alex Atenciano - Pa Lante (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 4:30, MP3 11.19 Mb
Alex Dark - AMOR (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.37 Mb
Alex Deeper - Lunar (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 123, 4:27, MP3 10.96 Mb
Alex Di Stefano - Glow (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 136, 6:11, MP3 15.15 Mb
Alex Kunnari - Stay or Move (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 5:35, MP3 14.01 Mb
Alex Phillipp - Me 2 (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 6:09, MP3 15.06 Mb
Alex Schneider, B'Bach - French Riviera (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 2:11, MP3 5.52 Mb
Alexander Bollinger - Dance With You (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 127, 5:05, MP3 12.51 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Hear my Beat (DVPT Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.73 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Hear my Beat (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 6:50, MP3 16.93 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Nobody Else (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 129, 6:29, MP3 16.08 Mb
Aliana - Bloom (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 6:00, MP3 14.75 Mb
Aliana - Nebula (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 132, 6:24, MP3 15.71 Mb
Allain Espino - Naked (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 5:23, MP3 13.16 Mb
Allenza - Bad (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 6:02, MP3 14.91 Mb
Alonso - Prophecy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 6:36, MP3 15.87 Mb
Alosoul - Lux (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 138, 5:36, MP3 13.72 Mb
Alvaro Vergara - Amazing (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 115, 5:05, MP3 12.50 Mb
Alvaro Vergara - Amazing (Supperclub Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 122, 5:54, MP3 14.45 Mb
Amadeo Esteche - Kippen (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 7:06, MP3 17.30 Mb
Amal Nemer - Leyenda (Monserratt Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 6:43, MP3 16.43 Mb
Amaral Borges - Eternal Journey (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 120, 6:35, MP3 16.25 Mb
Amaral Borges - Lion Temple (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 120, 7:13, MP3 17.76 Mb
Amaral Borges - North Sea (Faserklang Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 120, 5:33, MP3 13.75 Mb
Amaral Borges - North Sea (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 120, 6:26, MP3 15.87 Mb
Amaral Borges - Think Twice (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 120, 7:33, MP3 18.55 Mb
Amethy - Going Blind (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 5:33, MP3 13.50 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - Enter the Wild (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 122, 5:10, MP3 12.68 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 5:13, MP3 12.77 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Radial Gaze Remix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 5:55, MP3 14.46 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Zaatar Remix) / Key D, BPM 125, 5:30, MP3 13.47 Mb
Ascion - Violent Delights (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 140, 5:40, MP3 14.02 Mb
Audaks - You (Original Mix) / Key F, BPM 122, 6:51, MP3 16.60 Mb
Aviera, MARAE - Sirens (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:56, MP3 14.56 Mb
Aviera, MARAE - Sirens (Radio Edit) / Key Am, BPM 125, 4:42, MP3 11.60 Mb
Avision - Close Control (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 132, 5:45, MP3 14.30 Mb
Axbla - Goat (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 142, 5:56, MP3 14.33 Mb
AxeeD - Lies (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 2:45, MP3 6.87 Mb
Axel Johansson - Save A Prayer (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 2:43, MP3 6.72 Mb
Ayaz Yolchuyev - Dark Side (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 130, 3:14, MP3 7.87 Mb
Aztekan - Huehuetl (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 108, 5:53, MP3 14.39 Mb
Aztekan - Nuevo Rituales (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 6:02, MP3 14.74 Mb
Aztekan - Tototl (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 135, 6:56, MP3 16.91 Mb
B/AN/K - Feel the Rush (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 129, 5:13, MP3 12.82 Mb
B.Visible - Rubber Legs (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 85, 1:45, MP3 4.31 Mb
B.Visible, Anda Reverie - Bad Karma (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 95, 4:00, MP3 9.73 Mb
BAPP - Calle (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 6:33, MP3 15.93 Mb
BAPP - Eazy Go (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:55, MP3 14.39 Mb
BAPP - La Batera (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:40, MP3 13.79 Mb
BARBUTO - Acid Attack (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 5:33, MP3 13.46 Mb
BAY90 - Wait for Me (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 3:27, MP3 8.57 Mb
BIIG Charlie - Por la Cara (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 4:31, MP3 11.09 Mb
BL.CK - 11.59 (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 128, 7:01, MP3 17.41 Mb
BL.CK - Combustion (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 142, 6:52, MP3 16.86 Mb
Baby Rollen - Psychology (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 127, 7:02, MP3 17.11 Mb
Baby Rollen - Voodo (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 7:55, MP3 19.22 Mb
Band&dos, DJ 13 (VE) - Sexxxy 2.0 (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:43, MP3 13.91 Mb
Basement Jaxx, Siouxsie Sioux - Cish Cash (Superchumbo Sticky Licky Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 5:38, MP3 13.65 Mb
Basement Jaxx, Siouxsie Sioux - Cish Cash (Superchumbo Yummy Yummy Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:38, MP3 13.66 Mb
Baustaff - Cool Runnings (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 126, 5:09, MP3 12.63 Mb
Bee Collen - Fade (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 114, 5:57, MP3 14.47 Mb
Bee Collen - Nkanyane (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 115, 6:30, MP3 15.77 Mb
Bee Collen - Sensational (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 118, 6:45, MP3 16.38 Mb
Bee Lincoln - Cookin (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:05, MP3 14.96 Mb
Being Sarah - Oceanic Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 122, 4:45, MP3 11.85 Mb
Ben Claw - One Seed to Grow (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 5:22, MP3 13.04 Mb
Ben Graves - Do It Like That (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 7:05, MP3 17.34 Mb
Benales - Flux (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 140, 5:20, MP3 13.04 Mb
Benales - Kinetic (Jancen Remix) (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 6:02, MP3 14.70 Mb
Benales - Kinetic (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 139, 5:06, MP3 12.47 Mb
Benales - Sorrow (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:19, MP3 13.00 Mb
Benales - Sorrow (Utroit & K.O.S Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 142, 5:53, MP3 14.37 Mb
Benan - Just Be (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 5:25, MP3 13.20 Mb
Benatti - Say It Right (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 4:09, MP3 10.33 Mb
Bench Press - Precepts (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:37, MP3 16.44 Mb
Benny Benassi, Dubdogz, Mairee - La Musica (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 3:05, MP3 7.58 Mb
Berny, Light (UA) - What About You (Extended Mix) / Key Eb, BPM 123, 6:22, MP3 15.47 Mb
Bessey - I Feel Like (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 5:21, MP3 13.01 Mb
Besso - Mi Amor (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 100, 4:29, MP3 10.90 Mb
Bettelli, Erick Sierra - Lick My (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 129, 4:40, MP3 11.36 Mb
Bexxie - Feels Good (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 5:06, MP3 12.78 Mb
Bhm - Make That Shake (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 3:02, MP3 7.72 Mb
Bhm - Make That Shake (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 2:34, MP3 6.61 Mb
Big Bunny - Atom (Format Groove Dub Remix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 6:27, MP3 15.60 Mb
Big Bunny - Ecstasy From Ibiza (Minimal Dub Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 7:03, MP3 17.05 Mb
Big Bunny - Prise (Format Groove Dub Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 127, 6:48, MP3 16.45 Mb
Big Bunny - Strength (Tech House Dub Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 6:15, MP3 15.12 Mb
Big Bunny - Take It To The Top (Techno Red Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 132, 6:04, MP3 14.66 Mb
Bisou (DE) - Devotion (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:17, MP3 12.89 Mb
Bitwake - How You Feel (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 113, 3:30, MP3 8.69 Mb
Bizayas - Green Bassement (Edit Mix) / Key E, BPM 126, 2:37, MP3 6.31 Mb
Black Eyes - Groovin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Db, BPM 120, 6:10, MP3 14.98 Mb
Black Eyes - Jazzin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 120, 6:58, MP3 16.89 Mb
Black Eyes - Movin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 121, 6:56, MP3 16.83 Mb
Blackwax - Skyward Satalites (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 122, 8:37, MP3 21.03 Mb
Blackwax - Why U Licking My Painting (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 123, 5:38, MP3 13.85 Mb
Blackwax - Wok Gwan (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 123, 5:25, MP3 13.33 Mb
Blank & Jones - Nos E O Mar (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 87, 3:18, MP3 8.02 Mb
Blank Sense - Diluvio (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 130, 4:28, MP3 11.31 Mb
Blaze - Lovelee Dae (Franck Roger Extended Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 8:34, MP3 20.71 Mb
Blue Cell - Salzwasser (Intro for Mixes (Dmin-120bpm)) / Key D, BPM 120, 1:46, MP3 4.36 Mb
Bogy, Lucky Choice - Shadows (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 5:20, MP3 13.10 Mb
Bohemian (ESP) - Revolution (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 4:47, MP3 11.74 Mb
Bongomann - Teck Ee (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 7:49, MP3 18.88 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Extended Instrumental) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 3:29, MP3 8.67 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 3:29, MP3 8.67 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Instrumental) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 2:43, MP3 6.86 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 2:45, MP3 6.94 Mb
Bor - TIME FOR LOVE (Extended Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 126, 4:08, MP3 10.38 Mb
Boris Werner - L.S.D. (Love Saves the Day) (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 8:21, MP3 20.20 Mb
Boris Werner - Ochtend Glunderen @ Wildeburg (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 8:12, MP3 19.82 Mb
Boris Werner, MC Pryme - No Tantrums (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 6:53, MP3 16.66 Mb
Bosco Loco - Night in Naples (Acid Mix) / Key C, BPM 127, 5:48, MP3 14.13 Mb
Botle MusiiQue - Chilling with My Son (Nostalgic Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 112, 7:59, MP3 19.31 Mb
Breezy, Charlie Boulala, summer sax - Lemonee (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 118, 1:58, MP3 5.12 Mb
Brno, SicTric, Mingo Marrero - Teteo feat. BRNO (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 4:09, MP3 10.39 Mb
Broosnica - Don't U Know Me (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 125, 6:11, MP3 14.87 Mb
Bruce Zalcer - Cameo (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 5:21, MP3 12.95 Mb
Bruno Caro - Doesn't Fit (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 139, 4:57, MP3 12.24 Mb
Bruno Caro - Microtransactions (Le Martz Remix) / Key Dm, BPM 136, 6:38, MP3 16.29 Mb
Bruno Caro - Microtransactions (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 138, 5:06, MP3 12.63 Mb
Bust-R, PRINSH - Party All Night (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 3:22, MP3 8.29 Mb
C Nellie - One Day (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 4:34, MP3 11.33 Mb
C Nellie - One Day (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 3:42, MP3 9.26 Mb
C37 - Watching Snow Settle (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 110, 3:37, MP3 8.83 Mb
CC Luna - Rebirth (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 143, 5:36, MP3 13.58 Mb
CDTRAX - Bohemian (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 138, 5:24, MP3 13.67 Mb
CDTRAX - Furcht Einflössend (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 5:17, MP3 13.39 Mb
CDTRAX - Truculent (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 111, 4:51, MP3 12.37 Mb
Calicko - Speaker Tweakerz (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 6:21, MP3 15.62 Mb
Calipso Lapso, The Watermelon Summer Crew - Little Trip (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 3:58, MP3 9.54 Mb
Calm Boy - Hi-Tech (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 140, 3:09, MP3 7.75 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Algorithms for Love (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 5:02, MP3 12.32 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Reborn (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 5:29, MP3 13.42 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Waves (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 140, 5:15, MP3 12.87 Mb
Cammora - Flutter (Extended Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 130, 4:58, MP3 12.15 Mb
Caputi - Quanthral (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 131, 8:35, MP3 20.83 Mb
Cardozo - Alive (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 5:38, MP3 13.70 Mb
Cardozo - Sax House (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 4:35, MP3 11.18 Mb
Carla Schmitt - Black Hole (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 145, 5:25, MP3 13.15 Mb
Carlos Nilmmns - True People (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 125, 4:39, MP3 11.41 Mb
Carlos Pineda - Asere (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 4:56, MP3 12.03 Mb
Carlos Pineda - Asere (Radio Edit) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 3:30, MP3 8.59 Mb
Carol Fávero - Make You Groove (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 4:37, MP3 11.43 Mb
Castion - Higher Place (Extended Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 5:47, MP3 14.07 Mb
Castion - Loose & Dance (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 5:51, MP3 14.22 Mb
Cedric Flux - White Room (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:06, MP3 14.91 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Instrumental) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 6:52, MP3 16.66 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 6:44, MP3 16.34 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Short Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 4:06, MP3 10.02 Mb
Cesare vs Disorder - Erro (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 6:47, MP3 16.58 Mb
Cesare vs Disorder - Sonhando Acordado (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 7:01, MP3 17.16 Mb
Chaz (IN) - White Matter (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 145, 5:58, MP3 14.36 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Beach Acdc (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:30, MP3 11.15 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Dai (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:32, MP3 13.63 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Dancing Vampire Club (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 133, 4:34, MP3 11.32 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Nagoya 89' (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 6:04, MP3 14.91 Mb
Chester Fields, Jon Alfaro - Back to You (Jon Alfaro Remix) / Key Em, BPM 126, 3:43, MP3 9.12 Mb
Chewy Rubs - Boogie Down (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 120, 8:08, MP3 19.97 Mb
Chillelektro - Amrum (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 118, 7:07, MP3 17.33 Mb
Chmi - Bad Bitch (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 5:07, MP3 12.45 Mb
Chmi - This I'm Not Afraid (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 5:11, MP3 12.61 Mb
Chmi - What Do You Know About That (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 5:27, MP3 13.26 Mb
Chmi - Your Story (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 5:45, MP3 13.97 Mb
Chris Diaz, Fama (US) - On Me (Extended Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 5:17, MP3 13.04 Mb
Chris Diaz, Fama (US) - On Me (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 3:52, MP3 9.63 Mb
Chris Loud - Crazy Stuff (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 144, 5:10, MP3 12.70 Mb
ad.lib & silvision - Collide (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 7:11, MP3 17.34 Mb
DOWNLOAD - progonlymusic com
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1111 MUSICA - Musica - What's Good for Me (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 122, 4:14, MP3 10.32 Mb
21 ROOM - Superstructure (Dub mix) / Key Am, BPM 130, 6:24, MP3 15.48 Mb
21 ROOM - Superstructure (Techno Red Dub Remix) / Key Am, BPM 132, 6:18, MP3 15.25 Mb
2livemafia - All Black Party (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 3:49, MP3 9.42 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Close To Home (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 126, 5:55, MP3 14.52 Mb
34th Floor Experience - In The Morning (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 123, 5:31, MP3 13.59 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Moments Of Truth (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 121, 6:23, MP3 15.65 Mb
34th Floor Experience - Obsessed (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 124, 6:15, MP3 15.31 Mb
3rd Collective - Better (Bonfarado Remix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:44, MP3 14.15 Mb
3rd Collective - Better (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 120, 5:05, MP3 12.59 Mb
3rd Collective - Don't Deny (James Chang Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 120, 4:52, MP3 12.07 Mb
3rd Collective - Don't Deny (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 5:08, MP3 12.71 Mb
4 Da People - Escape the Shadows (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 119, 6:06, MP3 14.97 Mb
4 Da People - Fly Free (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 121, 4:32, MP3 11.24 Mb
4UALWAYS - Flashing Lights (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 4:36, MP3 11.32 Mb
6del - UNTITLED1 (Mat-R remix) / Key Gm, BPM 150, 6:56, MP3 17.06 Mb
6del - UNTITLED1 (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 135, 5:13, MP3 12.94 Mb
6del - UNTITLED2 (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 135, 5:52, MP3 14.50 Mb
7KY - Raindrop (Stoto Remix) / Key Bm, BPM 120, 2:00, MP3 5.17 Mb
A Tigers Blood, Supah - Pray For Me (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 145, 3:24, MP3 8.42 Mb
A.P.(84Bit) - Live Now (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 6:01, MP3 14.49 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 150, 2:11, MP3 5.75 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Slowed & Reverbed) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 2:33, MP3 6.63 Mb
AIZZO - Can't Feel My Face (Sped Up) / Key Em, BPM 160, 2:02, MP3 5.40 Mb
AKURI, XAVO (BR) - Funky Heroes (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 3:27, MP3 8.52 Mb
AZHARI - My Destiny (Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 4:41, MP3 11.57 Mb
Aaron Martin - Hot Spot (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 129, 5:50, MP3 14.37 Mb
Aaron Martin - Soundklub (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 131, 5:59, MP3 14.74 Mb
Abel (MZ) - Gimmicks (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 4:37, MP3 11.57 Mb
Abel Di Catarina - Dreamer (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 6:36, MP3 15.95 Mb
Abnormal Load - 30303 (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 115, 6:42, MP3 16.48 Mb
Abnormal Load - Anfang (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 140, 9:04, MP3 22.16 Mb
Abnormal Load - Escape The Island (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 98, 4:02, MP3 10.07 Mb
Abnormal Load - Trippin With The Rest (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 154, 4:10, MP3 10.41 Mb
Abnormal Load, Hjertman, Køpman - Shakar featuring Hjertman & Køpman (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 146, 7:37, MP3 18.67 Mb
Abnormal Load, Winding River - Neben Der Spur featuring Winding River (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 148, 6:46, MP3 16.64 Mb
Ackermann - My Dub (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 141, 6:01, MP3 14.54 Mb
Ackermann - My House (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 133, 4:54, MP3 11.88 Mb
Ackermann - No Vacancy (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 129, 5:01, MP3 12.15 Mb
Ackermann - No Vacancy (Skudge Remix) / Key Dbm, BPM 137, 5:34, MP3 13.47 Mb
Adel Khan - Kuala Lumpur (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 8:38, MP3 20.82 Mb
Ademir - You Take Me High (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 5:28, MP3 13.66 Mb
Adham Zahran - Crash & Burn (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 115, 8:22, MP3 20.35 Mb
Adham Zahran - Flight of the Phoenix (Original Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 123, 9:40, MP3 23.44 Mb
Adoo - This This (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 138, 6:37, MP3 16.04 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Another Level (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 139, 5:37, MP3 13.61 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Deafening Silence (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 139, 5:19, MP3 12.91 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Midnight Rumors (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 136, 5:21, MP3 12.98 Mb
Adri G., Rødder - Tales of Mystery (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 139, 5:36, MP3 13.59 Mb
Aegean - Tied Up (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 3:03, MP3 7.55 Mb
Aiden Francis - Ultrasonic (Original Mix) / Key Ab, BPM 133, 6:05, MP3 14.73 Mb
Aiden Jonah, Stephanie Chloris - Summer Loving (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 100, 3:18, MP3 8.26 Mb
Al-Faris - Deep in Your Soul (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 123, 8:00, MP3 19.29 Mb
Alain Rine - Turkiye (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 105, 2:47, MP3 7.07 Mb
Alan CM, Tatia - Acapulco Vibes (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.70 Mb
Alberto Santana - Liberation (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 138, 6:09, MP3 14.82 Mb
Alejandro Deep - 2024 Tech (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 6:08, MP3 14.80 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Bailar Contigo (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 125, 5:15, MP3 12.69 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Love for Music (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 126, 4:27, MP3 10.76 Mb
Alejandro Deep - Vamos al Dembow (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 125, 5:18, MP3 12.81 Mb
Aleks Born - Tell me a fairy tale (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 110, 3:34, MP3 8.77 Mb
Aleksey Kraft - Moon Fight (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 6:46, MP3 16.51 Mb
Alessandro Pintus, Gianmarco Limenta, Ruska Beats - Vibe with Me (feat. Ruska Beats) (Extended Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:48, MP3 14.03 Mb
Alessio Modrian, samor dj - INFINITE (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 120, 5:35, MP3 13.83 Mb
Alev Tav - 27 (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:29, MP3 13.35 Mb
Alev Tav - 28 (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 5:36, MP3 13.66 Mb
Alex Aleman - Fantasia (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 3:53, MP3 9.42 Mb
Alex Atenciano - Ibiza (Original mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.59 Mb
Alex Atenciano - Pa Lante (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 4:30, MP3 11.19 Mb
Alex Dark - AMOR (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.37 Mb
Alex Deeper - Lunar (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 123, 4:27, MP3 10.96 Mb
Alex Di Stefano - Glow (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 136, 6:11, MP3 15.15 Mb
Alex Kunnari - Stay or Move (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 124, 5:35, MP3 14.01 Mb
Alex Phillipp - Me 2 (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 6:09, MP3 15.06 Mb
Alex Schneider, B'Bach - French Riviera (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 120, 2:11, MP3 5.52 Mb
Alexander Bollinger - Dance With You (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 127, 5:05, MP3 12.51 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Hear my Beat (DVPT Remix) / Key Cm, BPM 128, 5:30, MP3 13.73 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Hear my Beat (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 127, 6:50, MP3 16.93 Mb
Alexis Morales (PE) - Nobody Else (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 129, 6:29, MP3 16.08 Mb
Aliana - Bloom (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 6:00, MP3 14.75 Mb
Aliana - Nebula (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 132, 6:24, MP3 15.71 Mb
Allain Espino - Naked (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 125, 5:23, MP3 13.16 Mb
Allenza - Bad (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 6:02, MP3 14.91 Mb
Alonso - Prophecy (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 127, 6:36, MP3 15.87 Mb
Alosoul - Lux (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 138, 5:36, MP3 13.72 Mb
Alvaro Vergara - Amazing (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 115, 5:05, MP3 12.50 Mb
Alvaro Vergara - Amazing (Supperclub Remix) / Key Bbm, BPM 122, 5:54, MP3 14.45 Mb
Amadeo Esteche - Kippen (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 129, 7:06, MP3 17.30 Mb
Amal Nemer - Leyenda (Monserratt Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 125, 6:43, MP3 16.43 Mb
Amaral Borges - Eternal Journey (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 120, 6:35, MP3 16.25 Mb
Amaral Borges - Lion Temple (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 120, 7:13, MP3 17.76 Mb
Amaral Borges - North Sea (Faserklang Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 120, 5:33, MP3 13.75 Mb
Amaral Borges - North Sea (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 120, 6:26, MP3 15.87 Mb
Amaral Borges - Think Twice (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 120, 7:33, MP3 18.55 Mb
Amethy - Going Blind (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 5:33, MP3 13.50 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - Enter the Wild (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 122, 5:10, MP3 12.68 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 125, 5:13, MP3 12.77 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Radial Gaze Remix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 5:55, MP3 14.46 Mb
Anastasia Zems, Mike Sacchetti - The World's a Dream (Zaatar Remix) / Key D, BPM 125, 5:30, MP3 13.47 Mb
Ascion - Violent Delights (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 140, 5:40, MP3 14.02 Mb
Audaks - You (Original Mix) / Key F, BPM 122, 6:51, MP3 16.60 Mb
Aviera, MARAE - Sirens (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 5:56, MP3 14.56 Mb
Aviera, MARAE - Sirens (Radio Edit) / Key Am, BPM 125, 4:42, MP3 11.60 Mb
Avision - Close Control (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 132, 5:45, MP3 14.30 Mb
Axbla - Goat (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 142, 5:56, MP3 14.33 Mb
AxeeD - Lies (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 124, 2:45, MP3 6.87 Mb
Axel Johansson - Save A Prayer (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 2:43, MP3 6.72 Mb
Ayaz Yolchuyev - Dark Side (Original Mix) / Key A, BPM 130, 3:14, MP3 7.87 Mb
Aztekan - Huehuetl (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 108, 5:53, MP3 14.39 Mb
Aztekan - Nuevo Rituales (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 138, 6:02, MP3 14.74 Mb
Aztekan - Tototl (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 135, 6:56, MP3 16.91 Mb
B/AN/K - Feel the Rush (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 129, 5:13, MP3 12.82 Mb
B.Visible - Rubber Legs (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 85, 1:45, MP3 4.31 Mb
B.Visible, Anda Reverie - Bad Karma (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 95, 4:00, MP3 9.73 Mb
BAPP - Calle (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 6:33, MP3 15.93 Mb
BAPP - Eazy Go (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:55, MP3 14.39 Mb
BAPP - La Batera (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:40, MP3 13.79 Mb
BARBUTO - Acid Attack (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 5:33, MP3 13.46 Mb
BAY90 - Wait for Me (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 3:27, MP3 8.57 Mb
BIIG Charlie - Por la Cara (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 125, 4:31, MP3 11.09 Mb
BL.CK - 11.59 (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 128, 7:01, MP3 17.41 Mb
BL.CK - Combustion (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 142, 6:52, MP3 16.86 Mb
Baby Rollen - Psychology (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 127, 7:02, MP3 17.11 Mb
Baby Rollen - Voodo (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 7:55, MP3 19.22 Mb
Band&dos, DJ 13 (VE) - Sexxxy 2.0 (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 130, 5:43, MP3 13.91 Mb
Basement Jaxx, Siouxsie Sioux - Cish Cash (Superchumbo Sticky Licky Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 130, 5:38, MP3 13.65 Mb
Basement Jaxx, Siouxsie Sioux - Cish Cash (Superchumbo Yummy Yummy Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 130, 5:38, MP3 13.66 Mb
Baustaff - Cool Runnings (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 126, 5:09, MP3 12.63 Mb
Bee Collen - Fade (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 114, 5:57, MP3 14.47 Mb
Bee Collen - Nkanyane (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 115, 6:30, MP3 15.77 Mb
Bee Collen - Sensational (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 118, 6:45, MP3 16.38 Mb
Bee Lincoln - Cookin (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:05, MP3 14.96 Mb
Being Sarah - Oceanic Dream (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 122, 4:45, MP3 11.85 Mb
Ben Claw - One Seed to Grow (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 143, 5:22, MP3 13.04 Mb
Ben Graves - Do It Like That (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 128, 7:05, MP3 17.34 Mb
Benales - Flux (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 140, 5:20, MP3 13.04 Mb
Benales - Kinetic (Jancen Remix) (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 6:02, MP3 14.70 Mb
Benales - Kinetic (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 139, 5:06, MP3 12.47 Mb
Benales - Sorrow (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:19, MP3 13.00 Mb
Benales - Sorrow (Utroit & K.O.S Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 142, 5:53, MP3 14.37 Mb
Benan - Just Be (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 130, 5:25, MP3 13.20 Mb
Benatti - Say It Right (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 4:09, MP3 10.33 Mb
Bench Press - Precepts (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 127, 6:37, MP3 16.44 Mb
Benny Benassi, Dubdogz, Mairee - La Musica (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 3:05, MP3 7.58 Mb
Berny, Light (UA) - What About You (Extended Mix) / Key Eb, BPM 123, 6:22, MP3 15.47 Mb
Bessey - I Feel Like (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 5:21, MP3 13.01 Mb
Besso - Mi Amor (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 100, 4:29, MP3 10.90 Mb
Bettelli, Erick Sierra - Lick My (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 129, 4:40, MP3 11.36 Mb
Bexxie - Feels Good (Extended Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 5:06, MP3 12.78 Mb
Bhm - Make That Shake (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 3:02, MP3 7.72 Mb
Bhm - Make That Shake (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 2:34, MP3 6.61 Mb
Big Bunny - Atom (Format Groove Dub Remix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 6:27, MP3 15.60 Mb
Big Bunny - Ecstasy From Ibiza (Minimal Dub Remix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 7:03, MP3 17.05 Mb
Big Bunny - Prise (Format Groove Dub Remix) / Key F#m, BPM 127, 6:48, MP3 16.45 Mb
Big Bunny - Strength (Tech House Dub Remix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 6:15, MP3 15.12 Mb
Big Bunny - Take It To The Top (Techno Red Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 132, 6:04, MP3 14.66 Mb
Bisou (DE) - Devotion (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 140, 5:17, MP3 12.89 Mb
Bitwake - How You Feel (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 113, 3:30, MP3 8.69 Mb
Bizayas - Green Bassement (Edit Mix) / Key E, BPM 126, 2:37, MP3 6.31 Mb
Black Eyes - Groovin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Db, BPM 120, 6:10, MP3 14.98 Mb
Black Eyes - Jazzin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 120, 6:58, MP3 16.89 Mb
Black Eyes - Movin Deeper (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 121, 6:56, MP3 16.83 Mb
Blackwax - Skyward Satalites (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 122, 8:37, MP3 21.03 Mb
Blackwax - Why U Licking My Painting (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 123, 5:38, MP3 13.85 Mb
Blackwax - Wok Gwan (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 123, 5:25, MP3 13.33 Mb
Blank & Jones - Nos E O Mar (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 87, 3:18, MP3 8.02 Mb
Blank Sense - Diluvio (Extended Mix) / Key Em, BPM 130, 4:28, MP3 11.31 Mb
Blaze - Lovelee Dae (Franck Roger Extended Remix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 8:34, MP3 20.71 Mb
Blue Cell - Salzwasser (Intro for Mixes (Dmin-120bpm)) / Key D, BPM 120, 1:46, MP3 4.36 Mb
Bogy, Lucky Choice - Shadows (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 123, 5:20, MP3 13.10 Mb
Bohemian (ESP) - Revolution (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 128, 4:47, MP3 11.74 Mb
Bongomann - Teck Ee (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 125, 7:49, MP3 18.88 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Extended Instrumental) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 3:29, MP3 8.67 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Extended Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 3:29, MP3 8.67 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Instrumental) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 2:43, MP3 6.86 Mb
Boogie Hill Faders - Get Personal (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 122, 2:45, MP3 6.94 Mb
Bor - TIME FOR LOVE (Extended Mix) / Key Bb, BPM 126, 4:08, MP3 10.38 Mb
Boris Werner - L.S.D. (Love Saves the Day) (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 8:21, MP3 20.20 Mb
Boris Werner - Ochtend Glunderen @ Wildeburg (Original Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 8:12, MP3 19.82 Mb
Boris Werner, MC Pryme - No Tantrums (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 6:53, MP3 16.66 Mb
Bosco Loco - Night in Naples (Acid Mix) / Key C, BPM 127, 5:48, MP3 14.13 Mb
Botle MusiiQue - Chilling with My Son (Nostalgic Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 112, 7:59, MP3 19.31 Mb
Breezy, Charlie Boulala, summer sax - Lemonee (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 118, 1:58, MP3 5.12 Mb
Brno, SicTric, Mingo Marrero - Teteo feat. BRNO (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 127, 4:09, MP3 10.39 Mb
Broosnica - Don't U Know Me (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 125, 6:11, MP3 14.87 Mb
Bruce Zalcer - Cameo (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 145, 5:21, MP3 12.95 Mb
Bruno Caro - Doesn't Fit (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 139, 4:57, MP3 12.24 Mb
Bruno Caro - Microtransactions (Le Martz Remix) / Key Dm, BPM 136, 6:38, MP3 16.29 Mb
Bruno Caro - Microtransactions (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 138, 5:06, MP3 12.63 Mb
Bust-R, PRINSH - Party All Night (Extended Mix) / Key Am, BPM 125, 3:22, MP3 8.29 Mb
C Nellie - One Day (Extended Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 4:34, MP3 11.33 Mb
C Nellie - One Day (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 128, 3:42, MP3 9.26 Mb
C37 - Watching Snow Settle (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 110, 3:37, MP3 8.83 Mb
CC Luna - Rebirth (Original Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 143, 5:36, MP3 13.58 Mb
CDTRAX - Bohemian (Original Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 138, 5:24, MP3 13.67 Mb
CDTRAX - Furcht Einflössend (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 140, 5:17, MP3 13.39 Mb
CDTRAX - Truculent (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 111, 4:51, MP3 12.37 Mb
Calicko - Speaker Tweakerz (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 124, 6:21, MP3 15.62 Mb
Calipso Lapso, The Watermelon Summer Crew - Little Trip (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 124, 3:58, MP3 9.54 Mb
Calm Boy - Hi-Tech (Original Mix) / Key C, BPM 140, 3:09, MP3 7.75 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Algorithms for Love (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 140, 5:02, MP3 12.32 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Reborn (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 140, 5:29, MP3 13.42 Mb
Cam Lasky - The Waves (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 140, 5:15, MP3 12.87 Mb
Cammora - Flutter (Extended Mix) / Key Dbm, BPM 130, 4:58, MP3 12.15 Mb
Caputi - Quanthral (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 131, 8:35, MP3 20.83 Mb
Cardozo - Alive (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 126, 5:38, MP3 13.70 Mb
Cardozo - Sax House (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 126, 4:35, MP3 11.18 Mb
Carla Schmitt - Black Hole (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 145, 5:25, MP3 13.15 Mb
Carlos Nilmmns - True People (Original Mix) / Key G, BPM 125, 4:39, MP3 11.41 Mb
Carlos Pineda - Asere (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 4:56, MP3 12.03 Mb
Carlos Pineda - Asere (Radio Edit) / Key Gm, BPM 128, 3:30, MP3 8.59 Mb
Carol Fávero - Make You Groove (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 4:37, MP3 11.43 Mb
Castion - Higher Place (Extended Mix) / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 5:47, MP3 14.07 Mb
Castion - Loose & Dance (Extended Mix) / Key Abm, BPM 127, 5:51, MP3 14.22 Mb
Cedric Flux - White Room (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 127, 6:06, MP3 14.91 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Instrumental) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 6:52, MP3 16.66 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Original Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 6:44, MP3 16.34 Mb
Cekay Pellegrini - Love Hurts (Short Mix) / Key F#m, BPM 135, 4:06, MP3 10.02 Mb
Cesare vs Disorder - Erro (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 6:47, MP3 16.58 Mb
Cesare vs Disorder - Sonhando Acordado (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 130, 7:01, MP3 17.16 Mb
Chaz (IN) - White Matter (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 145, 5:58, MP3 14.36 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Beach Acdc (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 4:30, MP3 11.15 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Dai (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 128, 5:32, MP3 13.63 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Dancing Vampire Club (Original Mix) / Key Ebm, BPM 133, 4:34, MP3 11.32 Mb
Chesnokovskii - Nagoya 89' (Original Mix) / Key Bm, BPM 124, 6:04, MP3 14.91 Mb
Chester Fields, Jon Alfaro - Back to You (Jon Alfaro Remix) / Key Em, BPM 126, 3:43, MP3 9.12 Mb
Chewy Rubs - Boogie Down (Original Mix) / Key Cm, BPM 120, 8:08, MP3 19.97 Mb
Chillelektro - Amrum (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 118, 7:07, MP3 17.33 Mb
Chmi - Bad Bitch (Original Mix) / Key Am, BPM 126, 5:07, MP3 12.45 Mb
Chmi - This I'm Not Afraid (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 124, 5:11, MP3 12.61 Mb
Chmi - What Do You Know About That (Original Mix) / Key Em, BPM 124, 5:27, MP3 13.26 Mb
Chmi - Your Story (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 126, 5:45, MP3 13.97 Mb
Chris Diaz, Fama (US) - On Me (Extended Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 5:17, MP3 13.04 Mb
Chris Diaz, Fama (US) - On Me (Original Mix) / Key Dm, BPM 128, 3:52, MP3 9.63 Mb
Chris Loud - Crazy Stuff (Original Mix) / Key Gm, BPM 144, 5:10, MP3 12.70 Mb
ad.lib & silvision - Collide (Original Mix) / Key Fm, BPM 128, 7:11, MP3 17.34 Mb
DOWNLOAD - progonlymusic com
2024.05.19 21:00 Sola_Sista_94 Disnee-hee-hee Princess Marathon! (Fanfic)
"...There's no need to pray, it's okay! You're welcome! Ha! I guess it's just my way of being me! "Maui sang as Kokichi and Himiko bobbed their heads to his signature song. They were spending the weekend watching Disney princess movies, suggested by Himiko. Saturday, they watched half the movies, and today, Sunday, they were tackling the other half. They were currently watching Moana.
"Nyeh...hey, Kokichi?" Himiko began. Kokichi shoved his finger onto Himiko's lips while simultaneously watching the screen.
"Ssh!! Ssh!! Wait, wait, wait!! Here comes the rapping part!" he exclaimed. He inhaled deeply and began rapping with Maui: "Well, come to think of it, kid, honestly I can go on and on. I can explain every natural phenomenon. The tide, the grass, the ground, oh, that was Maui just messin' around! I killed an eel, I buried its guts. Sprouted a tree, now you got coconuts. What's the lesson? What is the takeaway? Don't mess with Maui when he's on a breakaway! And the tapestry here on my skin is a map of the victories I win! Look where I've been, I make everything happen! Look at that mini-me Maui a-tippin' a-tappin!' Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY!! " Kokichi burst into laughter. "I LOVE that part!" he exclaimed. Himiko laughed with him.
"That was pretty good!" she said, hugging Kokichi. Kokichi squirmed with glee.
"Nee-heehee...thanks, Monkey Buns!" he said. "That's a fun part! Oh! What did you wanna ask me, by the way?"
"Well, since this is our last Disney princess movie, I just wanted to ask you..." Himiko began. She turned to him, batting her eyelashes. "...which Disney princess do I remind you of?" Kokichi rolled his eyes.
"Oh, brother," he said. "More of this?"
"I just wanna knooow!" Himiko said, nuzzling her face against Kokichi's shoulder. Kokichi sighed and leaned his head back in thought.
"Hmmm," he murmured. "I think you're kind of like Snow White and Rapunzel...and maybe the sleeping girl because, well...cuz she mostly slept. Nee-heehee!"
"Oh! Why Snow White?" Himiko asked.
"I dunno...I guess because she's an airhead," Kokichi replied.
"Heeey!" Himiko said, frowning.
"In an endearing way!" Kokichi said, shrugging his shoulders defensively.
"So...it's a good thing?" Himiko asked.
"I mean, I think it's cute," Kokichi replied. "Plus, she talks to animals, like you do. Except, in her case, the animals don't talk back."
"Nyeh...that's true," Himiko nodded. "And Rapunzel?"
"Well...you're naive, like she is," Kokichi began. "But, she's also goofy and adventurous. You're goofy, just like her, and you can be adventurous, so long as I'm there with you. And, of course, you have magic."
"Well...I do like those choices," Himiko admitted.
"Plus, I remind myself of Flynn Rider, so you automatically remind me of Rapunzel for that reason, too," Kokichi added. Himiko smiled and rolled her eyes.
"Of course," she said. "Nyeh...what about Belle?"
"The beast-lover?" Kokichi asked. Himiko nodded. "Hmm...maybe a little. I guess like Belle, you're mostly docile, but you also have a feisty side, like she does. Especially when she gets fed up. You just don't read as much as she does, though." Himiko nodded in agreement.
"And what about Ariel?" she asked.
"Pffft...from The Dumbass Mermaid? " Kokichi scoffed. Himiko smacked his arm.
"That's not what the movie is called," she said.
"It should be," Kokichi muttered. "She told her dad she loved what's-his-face even though she knew absolutely nothing about him! And to make things worse, she sold her voice to Urkel, or whatever her name was, just to meet that guy, who she's lucky didn't turn out to be some serial killer! The only thing you have in common with her is your red hair...well, that, and you're a dreamer, too."
"Nyeh...and I don't brush my hair with a fork," Himiko added.
"That, too!" Kokichi replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"What about Tiana?" Himiko asked. Kokichi smirked.
"Nah, you're allergic to hard work," he said.
"Ugh!!" Himiko cried. Then crossed her arms, pouting. "I'd smack you if that weren't true." Kokichi snickered at her. "Nyeh...what about Cinderella?"
"Again...you're allergic to hard work," Kokichi said.
"Well, she's not just known for hard work!" Himiko said. "She's also patient and kind!"
"Well...how would you respond to two ugly stepsisters and a stepmother being mean to you?" Kokichi asked.
"If there's any time to do what Ariel did, it would be then!" Himiko replied. "I'd run away to find the prince!"
"What if the prince is a psycho?" Kokichi asked.
"AND THE STEPSISTERS AND STEPMOTHER WEREN'T?!?!" Himiko exclaimed. Kokichi chuckled.
"Good point," he admitted, kissing the back of Himiko's hand.
"What about Jasmine?" Himiko asked.
"Jasmine...?"
"From Aladdin," Himiko reminded him. Kokichi smiled at her.
"You don't remind me of her, but...I feel like our relationship is like Aladdin and Jasmine's," he said. "Especially how in sync they were with each other when they first met, like when they worked together to avoid the guards. They reminded me of us, because you and I are always in cahoots! Hahaha!" Himiko smiled back.
"Ohhh! I like that!" she said. "Plus, Aladdin is a liar, like you are."
"Can't argue with that," Kokichi replied with a shrug. "Yeah, I think our relationship is like...hmm...what would their ship names be? 'Alasmine,' and 'Eupunzel."
"Eupunzel??" Himiko repeated.
"Yeah, Eugene and Rapunzel," Kokichi explained.
"Right!" Himiko said. "Nyeh...I love those choices for us!"
"Riiight?" Kokichi agreed with a cheeky grin.
"What about Pocahontas?" Himiko asked.
"Nnnnyyyoooooo..." Kokichi replied, shaking his head. "You are not a nature-lover, Monkey Buns! Plus, I just don't see you as a free spirit. You also don't go jumping off of cliffs and stuff."
"Oh..." Himiko said sadly.
"Not that that's a bad thing," Kokichi said. "I just don't see anything Pocahontas-y about you."
"I guess that's faaaiiir..." Himiko grumbled. Kokichi chuckled and kissed her cheek. "What about Mulan?"
"Nope! You're a dishonor to your family!" Kokichi joked. Himiko pounced on Kokichi, pinning him down to the couch cushions. Kokichi laughed playfully while Himiko kissed his face all over. "Hahahaha...ewww, you're getting your slobber all over me!"
"Nyeh...that's what you get!" Himiko said. "Just be glad I didn't tickle you! I know where your tickle spot is!" She drummed her fingers along Kokichi's neck. Kokichi cried out in surprise and scrunched his neck. Then, he licked one of Himiko's fingers.
"Ew!" Himiko cried, yanking her hand away.
"Nee-heehee...that'll learn ya!" Kokichi said.
"Nyeh...well, anyway..." Himiko muttered, wiping her finger on her jacket. "...What about Merida?"
"Och! In yer dreams, lassie!" Kokichi replied in a Scottish accent. "Ye couldn't e'en shoot a target if it was three feet in front o' yew!" He then dropped the accent. "Haha! Try the accent! It's fun!"
"Nyeh...top o' the marnin' to ya!" Himiko said. Kokichi gave her a strange smile.
"I'm pretty sure that's an Irish thing, not a Scottish thing," he said.
"Well...what do Scottish people say?" Himiko asked.
"I dunno...talk about bagpipes and Nessie, or something," Kokichi replied.
"Um...I done told Nessie not to play the bay-agpipes, but she went an' did it, anywaaay!" Himiko said in a horrible Southern accent. Kokichi burst into laughter.
"You sounded like a hillbilly from the American South!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I forgot how Scottish people sound already!" Himiko said, smacking Kokichi's leg. "So hush! Nyeh...moving on...what about Anna or Elsa?"
"Anna, no," Kokichi replied. "Elsa, yeah. She has magic, and she's quiet and hides her feelings, like you used to do. Also...why does Elsa even count? She's not even a princess, she's a queen!"
"Well, now she's the fifth spirit, remember?" Himiko said. "And Anna's the queen, now."
"Well, that's the only thing you have in common with Anna, then," Kokichi said with a wink. Himiko blushed.
"D'oh, Kokichi..." she said bashfully, waving her hand dismissively at him. They turned their attention back to Moana, who was now in the middle of another song.
"...And the call isn't out there at all, it's inside me," she sang. "It's like the tide always falling and rising. I will carry you here in my heart, you'll remind me that come what may, I know the way..."
"...I AM MOANAAAAAA!!! " Kokichi and Himiko sang together, pumping their fists. Then, they started swaying slowly and moving their arms dramatically to the music until the end of the song.
"Nyeh...do I remind you of Moa-" Himiko began.
"Nuh-uh," Kokichi interrupted.
"Why nooot?" Himiko asked.
"Cuz you don't like the ocean, remember?" Kokichi replied with a cheeky grin.
"Good point," Himiko said, kissing the back of Kokichi's hand. Kokichi chuckled.
"Is that all the Disney princesses?" he asked. Himiko went over the princesses in her head.
"Nyeh...yup, that's all of them," she said.
"Good! Can we go back to watching the rest of the movie, now?" Kokichi said.
"Nyeh...okay, okay," Himiko said. She nestled her head against Kokichi's shoulder. Kokichi moved her hat and kissed the top of her head, making her squeal happily. Then, they watched the rest of Moana in silence.
submitted by Sola_Sista_94 to danganronpa [link] [comments]
"Nyeh...hey, Kokichi?" Himiko began. Kokichi shoved his finger onto Himiko's lips while simultaneously watching the screen.
"Ssh!! Ssh!! Wait, wait, wait!! Here comes the rapping part!" he exclaimed. He inhaled deeply and began rapping with Maui: "Well, come to think of it, kid, honestly I can go on and on. I can explain every natural phenomenon. The tide, the grass, the ground, oh, that was Maui just messin' around! I killed an eel, I buried its guts. Sprouted a tree, now you got coconuts. What's the lesson? What is the takeaway? Don't mess with Maui when he's on a breakaway! And the tapestry here on my skin is a map of the victories I win! Look where I've been, I make everything happen! Look at that mini-me Maui a-tippin' a-tappin!' Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY!! " Kokichi burst into laughter. "I LOVE that part!" he exclaimed. Himiko laughed with him.
"That was pretty good!" she said, hugging Kokichi. Kokichi squirmed with glee.
"Nee-heehee...thanks, Monkey Buns!" he said. "That's a fun part! Oh! What did you wanna ask me, by the way?"
"Well, since this is our last Disney princess movie, I just wanted to ask you..." Himiko began. She turned to him, batting her eyelashes. "...which Disney princess do I remind you of?" Kokichi rolled his eyes.
"Oh, brother," he said. "More of this?"
"I just wanna knooow!" Himiko said, nuzzling her face against Kokichi's shoulder. Kokichi sighed and leaned his head back in thought.
"Hmmm," he murmured. "I think you're kind of like Snow White and Rapunzel...and maybe the sleeping girl because, well...cuz she mostly slept. Nee-heehee!"
"Oh! Why Snow White?" Himiko asked.
"I dunno...I guess because she's an airhead," Kokichi replied.
"Heeey!" Himiko said, frowning.
"In an endearing way!" Kokichi said, shrugging his shoulders defensively.
"So...it's a good thing?" Himiko asked.
"I mean, I think it's cute," Kokichi replied. "Plus, she talks to animals, like you do. Except, in her case, the animals don't talk back."
"Nyeh...that's true," Himiko nodded. "And Rapunzel?"
"Well...you're naive, like she is," Kokichi began. "But, she's also goofy and adventurous. You're goofy, just like her, and you can be adventurous, so long as I'm there with you. And, of course, you have magic."
"Well...I do like those choices," Himiko admitted.
"Plus, I remind myself of Flynn Rider, so you automatically remind me of Rapunzel for that reason, too," Kokichi added. Himiko smiled and rolled her eyes.
"Of course," she said. "Nyeh...what about Belle?"
"The beast-lover?" Kokichi asked. Himiko nodded. "Hmm...maybe a little. I guess like Belle, you're mostly docile, but you also have a feisty side, like she does. Especially when she gets fed up. You just don't read as much as she does, though." Himiko nodded in agreement.
"And what about Ariel?" she asked.
"Pffft...from The Dumbass Mermaid? " Kokichi scoffed. Himiko smacked his arm.
"That's not what the movie is called," she said.
"It should be," Kokichi muttered. "She told her dad she loved what's-his-face even though she knew absolutely nothing about him! And to make things worse, she sold her voice to Urkel, or whatever her name was, just to meet that guy, who she's lucky didn't turn out to be some serial killer! The only thing you have in common with her is your red hair...well, that, and you're a dreamer, too."
"Nyeh...and I don't brush my hair with a fork," Himiko added.
"That, too!" Kokichi replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"What about Tiana?" Himiko asked. Kokichi smirked.
"Nah, you're allergic to hard work," he said.
"Ugh!!" Himiko cried. Then crossed her arms, pouting. "I'd smack you if that weren't true." Kokichi snickered at her. "Nyeh...what about Cinderella?"
"Again...you're allergic to hard work," Kokichi said.
"Well, she's not just known for hard work!" Himiko said. "She's also patient and kind!"
"Well...how would you respond to two ugly stepsisters and a stepmother being mean to you?" Kokichi asked.
"If there's any time to do what Ariel did, it would be then!" Himiko replied. "I'd run away to find the prince!"
"What if the prince is a psycho?" Kokichi asked.
"AND THE STEPSISTERS AND STEPMOTHER WEREN'T?!?!" Himiko exclaimed. Kokichi chuckled.
"Good point," he admitted, kissing the back of Himiko's hand.
"What about Jasmine?" Himiko asked.
"Jasmine...?"
"From Aladdin," Himiko reminded him. Kokichi smiled at her.
"You don't remind me of her, but...I feel like our relationship is like Aladdin and Jasmine's," he said. "Especially how in sync they were with each other when they first met, like when they worked together to avoid the guards. They reminded me of us, because you and I are always in cahoots! Hahaha!" Himiko smiled back.
"Ohhh! I like that!" she said. "Plus, Aladdin is a liar, like you are."
"Can't argue with that," Kokichi replied with a shrug. "Yeah, I think our relationship is like...hmm...what would their ship names be? 'Alasmine,' and 'Eupunzel."
"Eupunzel??" Himiko repeated.
"Yeah, Eugene and Rapunzel," Kokichi explained.
"Right!" Himiko said. "Nyeh...I love those choices for us!"
"Riiight?" Kokichi agreed with a cheeky grin.
"What about Pocahontas?" Himiko asked.
"Nnnnyyyoooooo..." Kokichi replied, shaking his head. "You are not a nature-lover, Monkey Buns! Plus, I just don't see you as a free spirit. You also don't go jumping off of cliffs and stuff."
"Oh..." Himiko said sadly.
"Not that that's a bad thing," Kokichi said. "I just don't see anything Pocahontas-y about you."
"I guess that's faaaiiir..." Himiko grumbled. Kokichi chuckled and kissed her cheek. "What about Mulan?"
"Nope! You're a dishonor to your family!" Kokichi joked. Himiko pounced on Kokichi, pinning him down to the couch cushions. Kokichi laughed playfully while Himiko kissed his face all over. "Hahahaha...ewww, you're getting your slobber all over me!"
"Nyeh...that's what you get!" Himiko said. "Just be glad I didn't tickle you! I know where your tickle spot is!" She drummed her fingers along Kokichi's neck. Kokichi cried out in surprise and scrunched his neck. Then, he licked one of Himiko's fingers.
"Ew!" Himiko cried, yanking her hand away.
"Nee-heehee...that'll learn ya!" Kokichi said.
"Nyeh...well, anyway..." Himiko muttered, wiping her finger on her jacket. "...What about Merida?"
"Och! In yer dreams, lassie!" Kokichi replied in a Scottish accent. "Ye couldn't e'en shoot a target if it was three feet in front o' yew!" He then dropped the accent. "Haha! Try the accent! It's fun!"
"Nyeh...top o' the marnin' to ya!" Himiko said. Kokichi gave her a strange smile.
"I'm pretty sure that's an Irish thing, not a Scottish thing," he said.
"Well...what do Scottish people say?" Himiko asked.
"I dunno...talk about bagpipes and Nessie, or something," Kokichi replied.
"Um...I done told Nessie not to play the bay-agpipes, but she went an' did it, anywaaay!" Himiko said in a horrible Southern accent. Kokichi burst into laughter.
"You sounded like a hillbilly from the American South!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I forgot how Scottish people sound already!" Himiko said, smacking Kokichi's leg. "So hush! Nyeh...moving on...what about Anna or Elsa?"
"Anna, no," Kokichi replied. "Elsa, yeah. She has magic, and she's quiet and hides her feelings, like you used to do. Also...why does Elsa even count? She's not even a princess, she's a queen!"
"Well, now she's the fifth spirit, remember?" Himiko said. "And Anna's the queen, now."
"Well, that's the only thing you have in common with Anna, then," Kokichi said with a wink. Himiko blushed.
"D'oh, Kokichi..." she said bashfully, waving her hand dismissively at him. They turned their attention back to Moana, who was now in the middle of another song.
"...And the call isn't out there at all, it's inside me," she sang. "It's like the tide always falling and rising. I will carry you here in my heart, you'll remind me that come what may, I know the way..."
"...I AM MOANAAAAAA!!! " Kokichi and Himiko sang together, pumping their fists. Then, they started swaying slowly and moving their arms dramatically to the music until the end of the song.
"Nyeh...do I remind you of Moa-" Himiko began.
"Nuh-uh," Kokichi interrupted.
"Why nooot?" Himiko asked.
"Cuz you don't like the ocean, remember?" Kokichi replied with a cheeky grin.
"Good point," Himiko said, kissing the back of Kokichi's hand. Kokichi chuckled.
"Is that all the Disney princesses?" he asked. Himiko went over the princesses in her head.
"Nyeh...yup, that's all of them," she said.
"Good! Can we go back to watching the rest of the movie, now?" Kokichi said.
"Nyeh...okay, okay," Himiko said. She nestled her head against Kokichi's shoulder. Kokichi moved her hat and kissed the top of her head, making her squeal happily. Then, they watched the rest of Moana in silence.
2024.05.19 20:55 halfbakedcupcake Tender lumps on inside of upper eyelid—not a stye or chalazion?
Background:
29 year old female, 125 lbs, fairly active. Dx with chronic migraine, occipital neuralgia, ADHD, and moderate to severe acne with a more recent episode of acne conglobata. History of occasional mild blepharitis.
Medications/ supplements:
50mg vyvanse , 40mg isotretinoin, omega 3, CoQ10, levoceterizine, and borage oil (omega 6/ GLA). Occipital nerve block every 5 weeks, and Botox for migraine every 3 months.
Issue:
I’ve had these two red lumps on the actual inside of my right upper eyelid for about a week now. The lid is a bit tender to the touch, mildly swollen, and they were only visible when I very carefully flipped up my eyelid. I’ve been having discomfort in that eye and intermittent blurring of vision all week as well. I’ve had one stye, one smaller chalazion, and some milder blepharitis in the past, but these things do not seem to align with what’s currently going on as there are no lesions on the lash line or visible lesion or swelling on the outside of the eyelid.
I am currently on isotretinoin for acne, and I know that can sometimes contribute to styes or meibomian gland dysfunction, but this definitely seems different from the issues I’ve had related to this in the past. I saw my eye doctor about a month ago and she stated that my eyes and tear production were fine at the time.
Warm compresses seem to help a little bit, but my eye seems to get incredibly oily afterwards. My thought was maybe some sort of blockage in the upper part of a meibomian gland, but I’m not sure if that really happens or not. Any ideas on what this could be and whether I should go in to be seen now or whether it can wait until I have my next doctors appointment on May 28th?
submitted by halfbakedcupcake to AskDocs [link] [comments]
29 year old female, 125 lbs, fairly active. Dx with chronic migraine, occipital neuralgia, ADHD, and moderate to severe acne with a more recent episode of acne conglobata. History of occasional mild blepharitis.
Medications/ supplements:
50mg vyvanse , 40mg isotretinoin, omega 3, CoQ10, levoceterizine, and borage oil (omega 6/ GLA). Occipital nerve block every 5 weeks, and Botox for migraine every 3 months.
Issue:
I’ve had these two red lumps on the actual inside of my right upper eyelid for about a week now. The lid is a bit tender to the touch, mildly swollen, and they were only visible when I very carefully flipped up my eyelid. I’ve been having discomfort in that eye and intermittent blurring of vision all week as well. I’ve had one stye, one smaller chalazion, and some milder blepharitis in the past, but these things do not seem to align with what’s currently going on as there are no lesions on the lash line or visible lesion or swelling on the outside of the eyelid.
I am currently on isotretinoin for acne, and I know that can sometimes contribute to styes or meibomian gland dysfunction, but this definitely seems different from the issues I’ve had related to this in the past. I saw my eye doctor about a month ago and she stated that my eyes and tear production were fine at the time.
Warm compresses seem to help a little bit, but my eye seems to get incredibly oily afterwards. My thought was maybe some sort of blockage in the upper part of a meibomian gland, but I’m not sure if that really happens or not. Any ideas on what this could be and whether I should go in to be seen now or whether it can wait until I have my next doctors appointment on May 28th?
2024.05.19 20:40 thrway202838 [M25] What can I do to try to make my hair thicker?
(Hopefully that's the right word. What I mean is the density of my hair follicles is not what I want it to be. I want more hair per square inch of scalp)
My hair is kinda long (mid back) , quite fine (individual strands are thin) , and it comes out very easily. If I brush it, it's a massacre, and at this point I've been too scared to brush it fully for years (ever since covid) . At best I'll brush the bottom 4ish inches. But it feels and looks so much better brushed. I wish I had enough of it to not worry about it and could just brush it like a normal human.
I'm worried that it's just never gonna be what I want. I'm afraid that being cursed with a Y chromosome has doomed me to always have hair I hate. But I want to at least try to make it better before I consign myself fully to despair.
When I've asked hairdressers or my family, they always say "just brush it, it stimulates the scalp!" , but I can't believe them. I've done that, and lost so much hair that you could see the bald spots on my wack ass hairline through my ponytail. The shame from that was physically painful. I know experentially that doesn't help. I'm taking vitamins, I'm trying to eat healthy, even exercising now. I don't know what else to do
submitted by thrway202838 to Haircare [link] [comments]
My hair is kinda long (mid back) , quite fine (individual strands are thin) , and it comes out very easily. If I brush it, it's a massacre, and at this point I've been too scared to brush it fully for years (ever since covid) . At best I'll brush the bottom 4ish inches. But it feels and looks so much better brushed. I wish I had enough of it to not worry about it and could just brush it like a normal human.
I'm worried that it's just never gonna be what I want. I'm afraid that being cursed with a Y chromosome has doomed me to always have hair I hate. But I want to at least try to make it better before I consign myself fully to despair.
When I've asked hairdressers or my family, they always say "just brush it, it stimulates the scalp!" , but I can't believe them. I've done that, and lost so much hair that you could see the bald spots on my wack ass hairline through my ponytail. The shame from that was physically painful. I know experentially that doesn't help. I'm taking vitamins, I'm trying to eat healthy, even exercising now. I don't know what else to do
2024.05.19 20:39 Violet-Flowersss Maxi-Challenge 7: Results
 | Welcome back queens, all of you! It was great seeing the eliminated queens again. I hope you all enjoyed working together. This challenge, you worked in groups, and will be judged as groups. So, on to the critiques! submitted by Violet-Flowersss to MissFiggysDragRace [link] [comments] Absynthe, Btch, and Anne Choví: An elemental group is a more expected theme, but I think you all did a nice job at giving me something new and interesting with it. I’ve seen a lot of elemental looks in other competitions, and yours still feel unique and fresh to me. Absinthe, your look I really love. The mushroom details are great, and I particularly love the mushroom lines on the underside of the hat. She feels very down to earth, as she should, but still regal and elevated. Btch, your look is very different from most other air looks I’ve seen (and created myself) but still gives air elemental. The recoloring here is beautiful, even the shadows in the hair match the blue in the skirt, and that’s even more impressive considering this wig is originally orange. This top for an air look is definitely not something I expected, and I love that you reworked it to fit an air look. Now, I do feel that the two of you let your sister Anne fall to the wayside. Anne, I really appreciate that you did not use any of the ocean items from the game. I don’t know what happened during your editing, but your look is very blurry. I can’t zoom in to see the details, which makes judging more difficult for me. I like that you incorporated green into this look so that it wasn’t all blue, but I feel that the balance is off. I would’ve liked for the top to match the skirt, and for the pink gems to be green. Since there isn’t pink anywhere else in the outfit, they stick out and draw attention when they shouldn’t be a focal point. The pink might have worked better if the other accessories, like the earring and headband, were also pink. Unfortunately, this look just isn't as striking as your groupmates’ looks, so it doesn’t feel like it belongs in the same group as the others. As a whole group, you had some really great interpretations, and I wish that had carried into all three looks. Liz Onya and Pepper Red: Liz, you get major, major props for creating two looks when you were only tasked with creating one. Your story is incredible - I actually laughed out loud when I read that the princess is made entirely of cheese. That is the kind of creativity and unexpectedness I was hoping for. With your princess look, I knew immediately that she was made of cheese, and I could get that even without the description. The little holes on the skin were a great addition, it wouldn’t be a swiss cheese look without them. Recoloring the gold dress to silver was very smart, as it helps break up all the yellow in the look without seeming out of place. There is a small piece on the silver chestpiece that has drips, and those should be yellow, though. I’m mainly concerned with the princess’s health because it looks like she’s melting. Swiss cheese is normally solid, and yet shes all liquid. Just because she’s made of cheese doesn’t mean her outfit also has to be made of cheese, but if you really wanted to go that route, her outfit shouldn’t be melting. You could have used blocky pieces and made them look like cheese, and that would have had a better effect. The silver mask also doesn’t belong in the look for the story you told. If you wanted to keep the mask, it should have been included in the story somehow, because it just feels like you forgot about it. Great concept, but the outfit doesn’t live up to the story. Your second look was supposed to be Pepper’s responsibility (and I did tell you you didn’t need to make two looks) so I won’t critique it as much. While a bit expected, in terms of the pieces used, it totally fits a dancing mouse. The headpiece obviously gives mouse, and the rest tells me that the mouse is a dancer. Of the two looks, I feel the one makes more sense for the story. I know you had some difficulties, but your princess look unfortunately does not live up to what I’ve come to expect from you. Raven Starfire, Tracy Martel, and Orchid Mitchel: You three did an amazing job with this challenge. While aliens is not the most creative concept, since we’ve seen it multiple times already in just this competition (not to mention other ones), the story you told was very interesting and unique. I love that Galilea the Good is not actually that good, that Briar the Bad is not actually that bad, and that Ursula the Ugly is beautiful inside. Throughout all three looks, I can see the family resemblance. All of the skirt shapes are similar, and the tops are too, to an extent. While Ursula’s top has a pointy shoulder and Briar’s and Galilea’s tops have rounded shoulder, the resemblance is still there as Ursuala still has a bold shoulder. At first, the difference in skin tone bothered me, but after thinking about it more, I actually think it works, since many sisters irl have different skin tones. I especially love that all three of you have crowns to convey that you’re all princesses, but that Urusala’s crown is the biggest since she is now the queen. That was a really great idea. Raven, your look very much looks like a stereotypical good girl, but the kind that isn’t truly all that good, as your story implies. Its simple, but very effective. Tracy, your princess really looks like a super-sexy bad girl. She doesn’t necessarily look evil, just not nice, which fits her description. I love this top and bottom combination, I haven’t seen it before and I wouldn’t have thought to put them together, but they work really well. Orchid, you had a really tough job making an ugly princess because if it was too ugly and all over the place, that would work against you. You managed to find the perfect balance between keeping it cohesive and making it look ugly. Its not overwhelming ugly, all the technical elements are perfect, but any sane person would never wear this. I hate orange, just in general, but with that blue, its even more atrocious. This look is really well-balanced, you easily could have overdone it by making it too over-the-top ugly, but you found just the right amount of ugliness. All three of you did an amazing job not only with your story, but with your looks too. Miz Erie and Cali Rose: Miz and Cali, I absolutely loved your story. Its definitely unexpected, its really fun, and I love being included in the story 😁. Your looks do a great job of telling the story, but sadly, I don’t love them as much as the story itself. My main, biggest issue is that Cali is wearing the exact same outfit as Miz. I like the idea of a shark parading around as a human, and Cali’s look definitely sells that. I just think that using the same outfit when you were tasked with creating two looks is not very creative. I would have liked to have seen the shark on its own, before it ate Miz-ter Erie. Then you could have still provided Cali’s look as a third bonus look, with it being a combination of your two outfits. As for the looks itself, the little bronze circles on the top bother me. They don’t make sense in the outfit, and I wish you had either used a lower level of the top or recolored the circles to match either the gold tassels or the brown boots. That said, that’s my only critique of Miz’s outfit; the recoloring is very nice, all of the other elements work together well, and it very much gives pirate. Despite being nearly the same outfit, Cali’s look has a few other issues. For one thing, the blood does not look like blood. I presume the red dots are meant to be blood, but it just looks like bad polka dots. Something to think about is where the injuries are and where the blood would be coming from. Alternatively, if the attack was everywhere and the blood is all over, the spots should be shaped more like blood drops, and blood should be dripping of off the clothing. There are some clipping issues with the top and shark wig, and I was willing to forgive that because of the storyline, until I recreated the look in-game myself. In-game, there aren’t any clipping issues, so the clipping here must have been an editing mistake. I’m not really sure how, since full editing wasn’t allowed, but something went awry. The makeup was a nice touch here, it really helps sell the narrative that this isn’t the same person. The story is really great, it’s super creative and fun, and I just really wish that looks were more creative and polished as well. Raven, Tracy, and Orchid, maybe you weren’t in the story, but all you were super good this challenge! Condragulations, you are all winners this challenge. Orchid, a special congrats to you, as you have successfully redeemed yourself and are back in the competition. Miz Erie and Cali Rose, your story was super creative, but that didn’t translate into the looks. Miz Erie, I’m sorry my love, but you are up for elimination. B*tch and Absynthe, your looks were great, but you let Anne Choví drown. You two… are safe. Liz Onya, I’m so sorry my love, but you are up for elimination. You and Miz Erie will now looksync for your lives. |
2024.05.19 20:39 TRMerc The cost of ending war
Princess Rolaea fell into a seated position on the floor as her Steward was positioned next to her. The other soldiers who were captured from the team she had been leading were behind. “I demand to speak to your leader.” Growled the Karvrithak princess as the humans walked about, almost gloating at their catch.
“You’ll get your chance. I gotta make some calls first.” Came a voice from behind view. The older Karvrithak next to her fake cleared his throat to get the princess’ attention. “You know, princess. Now that we are captured.” To which Rolaea interjected, “I wouldn’t have been if you had done your duty.” Making the older Karvrithak pause in annoyance. “There were too many between me and you for me to have carried out that duty; I have to now follow the rules for… that.” The princess froze for a moment. “You can’t be serious, Sarvik.”
Sarvik nods without looking at the princess, instead looking for the man he saw fighting with her. “Our culture is built upon tradition, even ones you might not wish to be a part of. You were beaten in single combat by a male.” The princess interjects, “Not true. Two of our solders were fighting with me.” To which Sarvik nods, “Which makes it an even more impressive feat.” He gets a growl of annoyance in return.
A human woman walked over, hearing them talk, “What is going on over here?” sitting down on a crate in front of the prisoners. Sarvik looked at the human. “Ah, maybe you can help. Who was the one by himself during the fight.” Sitting up, the human smiled. “That would be our fearless leader. Didn’t want anyone to risk their life as our formation required four in front of you.” Rolaea sneered. “You mean your trap.”
The human gasped at the accusation, placing a hand on her chest in mock surprise. “Just because your senses were not keen enough to notice us doesn’t mean it was a trap. We even called out for you to surrender as you’re surrounded, and you chose to fight.” Getting a nod of agreement from the Steward, who got an elbow for agreeing with the human, causing a grunt of pain. “That spot is a little tender from the fight.” Which got another one from the princess: “That is for your failure in duty.”
The human woman pointed a finger at the pair as if they were children. “Don’t make me separate you two. So, you were speaking earlier.” And Sarvik nods, “Does your leader come from a noble bloodline.” Which made the human smirk. “He would say he does.” Before taking a moment to pose and take a mock tone of the rag-tag group's leader, “My grandfather would tell me stories of how we were descendants of Spartan kings of over 4,000 years.” Getting a laugh from the woman and a nod from Sarvik, “Is there any possibility that is true?” and the human shrug, “Could be. It was a long time ago, and I remember hearing something about how everyone is related to royalty in some way or another because of mixing.”
Rolaea smiles. “See, his bloodline is too diluted. Also, I never heard of the Spartans so how much of a warrior family could they be?” Getting another laugh from the woman “They weren’t a family. They were an entire culture who just became part of a country known as Greece. They never died out or went extinct, they just started calling themselves Greeks instead of Spartans.” Looking back and forth between the two, Sarah started to smile more as she realized what the conversation had been about.
Sarvik nodded in understanding. “I see. What were the beliefs of these Spartans?” Causing the human to think for a while, “Well, I remember hearing the only way to get your name on a grave is for men to have died in combat or women to have died during childbirth. Both were seen as a way of supporting Sparta. They were fierce warriors; often, just a single word could keep an army out of the country. Oh, and marriage was some kind of ritualistic combat, I think.” By this time, Nick walked over. “What is all this commotion.”
He looked around at a giggling Sarah, a stoic-looking male Karvrithak, and what he could only assume to be a blushing female Karvrithak. Sarah looked up. “Oh, just talking about Spartian marriage fighting.” To which Nick sighed, “It wasn’t combat. Spartan men would meet up with the women they found attractive during the night and take them back to their barracks or someplace else.” Sarvik tilted his head some. “Do you believe Rolaea to be attractive?” Getting a wide-eyed look from the princess, “Sarvik, you stop this right now.” The human male looked confused and looked over. “To be honest, I never really thought of a Karvrithak as beautiful or not, but… I mean, if we weren’t at war… maybe, kinda.”
Sarvik nodded once more. “Then it is settled, the combat took place at night, and it seems all the conditions for both cultures are met, or at least enough to be considered valid under the mixed cultures doctrine.” Nick looked even more confused as he looked at the male Karvrithak, then the female who looked ready to die from embarrassment, and his second in command Sarah, who looked ready to burst from laughter and when he remembered what they were talking about, marriage, got his own look of shock and horror “No no no no no no.”
Sarvik nods. “You are to be paired with Princess Rolaea.” Which was what Sarah needed to hear to burst out laughing finally and almost fell off the crate. The whole thing caused everyone to look over, prisoner and non-alike. Rolaea: “We are in agreement there, human. There is no way this is going to happen.” Sarvik took a deep breath. “I’m afraid, as Stewart of the royal family, it is my duty to inform your father.” Nick shook his head. “No, there is no way I can marry a furball.” Sarah, for her part, finally fell to the floor before managing to get something out that wasn’t laughter: “Bum bum bum bum.” To the tune of Here Comes the Bride getting a kick from Nick, which only returned her to her crazed laughing state, which by now, more people started figuring out what was going on, and some more laughter started, only one from the Karvrithak.
Rolaea turned to look at which one of her soldiers was laughing. “Whoever is laughing is going to have their tongue cut out.” Before turning to Nick, “If we kill Sarvik, no one will tell.” To which Sarah’s hand shot up, “I will.” And Sarvik nods. “We have a second in agreement from the groom’s side. We just have to contact your father. He will agree to the cease-fire the humans have been asking for.” Nick looks down. “We would have to kill more than Sarvak.” When a cough from behind caught his attention, causing Nick to look back. “Command finally answered.”
Nick took a deep breath and pointed a finger at the Karvrithaks. “No speaking.” And then pointed at Sarah, “Pull it together.” As the now out-of-breath woman took deep breaths to get it back, “Ok, ok. I’m done now.” Nick walked over and answered the line, talking about the success at capturing the high-value target in their area and how it was the princess.
After a few minutes of talking, Nick returned with a different look on his face, and Sarah wiped her eyes, having cried from laughing so hard. “Oh, I don’t think I can survive another laughing fit like that. It was too funny.” Nick took a deep breath, causing Sarah to look up in amused horror as Nick spoke, “Command told me to contact the Karvrithaks and use any means necessary to get them to agree to the cease-fire.” And Sarah smirked while holding in her laughter and got slapped upside the head for it.
She screamed in pain, “What was that for?” and Nick smiled. “You said if you started laughing, you were going to die. I just saved your life.” Taking a deep breath, Sarah nods. “I guess, but you could have held back.” Rolaea’s embarrassment died down enough that she started to glare at Nick. “If you think for a second, I will marry you. I would rather die!” Nick held a finger up and bopped Rolaea on the nose to silence her. “Not getting married.” Turned to Sarvik, “Going to get Tony to agree to a cease-fire anyway.” And then turned to Sarah, “Someone is getting a demotion.” To which she replied, “Worth it.”
Nick sighed and walked away to a secluded area he and Sarah would talk, and Sarah started to follow. “Though, I’m in agreement with killing the princess; it will be a nice revenge for everything the furballs have done to us since the war started.” A hand going to her sidearm. Nick turned to her “Put it away, I don’t like the idea either. It could at least be enough of a distraction to get the upper hand or get some end to this war.” Sarah looked at him seriously for the first time since starting the conversation with the aliens. Nick nods. “You have a weird way of grieving, you know that. Your humor was bad before, but this is twisted. No, we are not going to plan a red wedding. We’ll use it as a cover to regroup and.”
Sarah groaned out of frustration. “Why are we even listening to the human collation? They abandoned us, and then when our resistance group got good enough, they contacted us and started demanding we follow their orders.” Nick nods. “Ya, not like they started giving us intel, equipment, trained soldiers,” causing Sarah to stop him. “Ok, ok, you made your point… still… marriage?”
Nick shrugs at that. “When we started fighting, I thought about how men used to throw themselves on grenades to save others… I’ve always been ready to do that…. I guess to save lives, I’ll have to take an arrow to the knee.” Before starting to walk back in, a smile returned to Sarah’s face; without turning, Nick simply said, “Knew that would get that cursed smile back.”
The two Karvrithaks had been arguing again, with the princess drowning out the stewart whenever he tried to give the transmission frequency to contact the king. Nick picked up a clean… ish rag and shoved it into the princess’ mouth. “Alright, fine I accept.” Getting a muffled scream of anger from the princess followed by what was surely an obscenity-filled tongue lashing, defeated by a rag. Sarvick looked at Nick, angry for the first time. “We might be your prisoners, but that is no way to treat the princess or your future wife.” Nick nods some. “Would you like me to remove it and risk going deaf in that ear?” Pointing to the one that was on the side of the princess. A momentary glance from Sarvik at the princess who was still trying to yell between attempts to remove the rag stuck on her sharp teeth, got a “For now. The signal frequency is 195.2515.234.202. Also, I would refrain from using your human slur for our leader. He doesn’t much like being compared to a human breakfast cereal mascot.”
Nick nods, then helps Sarvik to his feet and turns to Sarah. “I could use my second in command.” Gets a sigh of annoyance as she rebuttons the strap holding her sidearm while standing. “OK.” After approaching the coms the operator puts in the frequency and releasing Sarvick’s hands he types in a code as the image of the king of the Karvrithaks comes on with a roar of a statement “How dare you lay a hand on my daughter if she is not returned to me within one earth hour I will glass the planet as I would rather see her dead than at the mercy of you lowly.” As Nick decided to throw him off his game, “Calm down, Dad.” Causing the king to stop. “What did you call me, and why is Sarvik standing next to you?”
Sarvik coughed to grab the attention of the group and to make this more noble than commoner “It is with much honor and regret that I have to inform you that this human has successfully completed the right of binding.” This information caused the King’s lower Jaw to drop, and Sarah chimed in, “Funny you mentioned hand earlier because he’s taking your daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king looked outraged. “You’re going to cut her hand off for marriage!?” and Sarvik raised a hand. “It is a figure of speech, Your Majesty. Humans call grabbing another’s hand with your own taking. Often done before the rings are placed on the hand of the one being wed.” Nick and Sarah both turn to look at Sarvik, who doesn’t turn his head. “A steward must be informed on all relevant information.”
Nick turns back to the king. “As your future son-in-law, I ask that you have your forces stand down. Don’t want to accidentally kill a relative of mine, do you?” The king let out a low growl of annoyance as a spitting sound was heard behind the group. The princess finally worked the rag out of her mouth. “I object to this wedding.” only getting a yell in response: “I can’t stop it. If Sarvik has said the terms have been met, I would have to break years of tradition and condemn our bloodline to death to break it.”
The two humans went wide-eyed as they didn’t realize how seriously the Karvrithaks took their tradition. Turning his head, the king spoke solemnly, “Tell our generals to stand down and to return fire if fired upon.” The coms operator relayed the message to the human command, which quickly ordered a similar command. Turning back, the King looked like he was about ready to reach through the screen and strangle him. “Know this, human, if you have lied about your intent. I was originally planning on subjugating the humans, but I will exterminate your species if you are lying.” And Nick swallowed hard at the sudden realization that his plan of using this as a cover for the human forces to regroup was a bigger gamble than he first thought. Sarah smirked and turned to look up at Nick. “No pressure.”
submitted by TRMerc to HFY [link] [comments]
“You’ll get your chance. I gotta make some calls first.” Came a voice from behind view. The older Karvrithak next to her fake cleared his throat to get the princess’ attention. “You know, princess. Now that we are captured.” To which Rolaea interjected, “I wouldn’t have been if you had done your duty.” Making the older Karvrithak pause in annoyance. “There were too many between me and you for me to have carried out that duty; I have to now follow the rules for… that.” The princess froze for a moment. “You can’t be serious, Sarvik.”
Sarvik nods without looking at the princess, instead looking for the man he saw fighting with her. “Our culture is built upon tradition, even ones you might not wish to be a part of. You were beaten in single combat by a male.” The princess interjects, “Not true. Two of our solders were fighting with me.” To which Sarvik nods, “Which makes it an even more impressive feat.” He gets a growl of annoyance in return.
A human woman walked over, hearing them talk, “What is going on over here?” sitting down on a crate in front of the prisoners. Sarvik looked at the human. “Ah, maybe you can help. Who was the one by himself during the fight.” Sitting up, the human smiled. “That would be our fearless leader. Didn’t want anyone to risk their life as our formation required four in front of you.” Rolaea sneered. “You mean your trap.”
The human gasped at the accusation, placing a hand on her chest in mock surprise. “Just because your senses were not keen enough to notice us doesn’t mean it was a trap. We even called out for you to surrender as you’re surrounded, and you chose to fight.” Getting a nod of agreement from the Steward, who got an elbow for agreeing with the human, causing a grunt of pain. “That spot is a little tender from the fight.” Which got another one from the princess: “That is for your failure in duty.”
The human woman pointed a finger at the pair as if they were children. “Don’t make me separate you two. So, you were speaking earlier.” And Sarvik nods, “Does your leader come from a noble bloodline.” Which made the human smirk. “He would say he does.” Before taking a moment to pose and take a mock tone of the rag-tag group's leader, “My grandfather would tell me stories of how we were descendants of Spartan kings of over 4,000 years.” Getting a laugh from the woman and a nod from Sarvik, “Is there any possibility that is true?” and the human shrug, “Could be. It was a long time ago, and I remember hearing something about how everyone is related to royalty in some way or another because of mixing.”
Rolaea smiles. “See, his bloodline is too diluted. Also, I never heard of the Spartans so how much of a warrior family could they be?” Getting another laugh from the woman “They weren’t a family. They were an entire culture who just became part of a country known as Greece. They never died out or went extinct, they just started calling themselves Greeks instead of Spartans.” Looking back and forth between the two, Sarah started to smile more as she realized what the conversation had been about.
Sarvik nodded in understanding. “I see. What were the beliefs of these Spartans?” Causing the human to think for a while, “Well, I remember hearing the only way to get your name on a grave is for men to have died in combat or women to have died during childbirth. Both were seen as a way of supporting Sparta. They were fierce warriors; often, just a single word could keep an army out of the country. Oh, and marriage was some kind of ritualistic combat, I think.” By this time, Nick walked over. “What is all this commotion.”
He looked around at a giggling Sarah, a stoic-looking male Karvrithak, and what he could only assume to be a blushing female Karvrithak. Sarah looked up. “Oh, just talking about Spartian marriage fighting.” To which Nick sighed, “It wasn’t combat. Spartan men would meet up with the women they found attractive during the night and take them back to their barracks or someplace else.” Sarvik tilted his head some. “Do you believe Rolaea to be attractive?” Getting a wide-eyed look from the princess, “Sarvik, you stop this right now.” The human male looked confused and looked over. “To be honest, I never really thought of a Karvrithak as beautiful or not, but… I mean, if we weren’t at war… maybe, kinda.”
Sarvik nodded once more. “Then it is settled, the combat took place at night, and it seems all the conditions for both cultures are met, or at least enough to be considered valid under the mixed cultures doctrine.” Nick looked even more confused as he looked at the male Karvrithak, then the female who looked ready to die from embarrassment, and his second in command Sarah, who looked ready to burst from laughter and when he remembered what they were talking about, marriage, got his own look of shock and horror “No no no no no no.”
Sarvik nods. “You are to be paired with Princess Rolaea.” Which was what Sarah needed to hear to burst out laughing finally and almost fell off the crate. The whole thing caused everyone to look over, prisoner and non-alike. Rolaea: “We are in agreement there, human. There is no way this is going to happen.” Sarvik took a deep breath. “I’m afraid, as Stewart of the royal family, it is my duty to inform your father.” Nick shook his head. “No, there is no way I can marry a furball.” Sarah, for her part, finally fell to the floor before managing to get something out that wasn’t laughter: “Bum bum bum bum.” To the tune of Here Comes the Bride getting a kick from Nick, which only returned her to her crazed laughing state, which by now, more people started figuring out what was going on, and some more laughter started, only one from the Karvrithak.
Rolaea turned to look at which one of her soldiers was laughing. “Whoever is laughing is going to have their tongue cut out.” Before turning to Nick, “If we kill Sarvik, no one will tell.” To which Sarah’s hand shot up, “I will.” And Sarvik nods. “We have a second in agreement from the groom’s side. We just have to contact your father. He will agree to the cease-fire the humans have been asking for.” Nick looks down. “We would have to kill more than Sarvak.” When a cough from behind caught his attention, causing Nick to look back. “Command finally answered.”
Nick took a deep breath and pointed a finger at the Karvrithaks. “No speaking.” And then pointed at Sarah, “Pull it together.” As the now out-of-breath woman took deep breaths to get it back, “Ok, ok. I’m done now.” Nick walked over and answered the line, talking about the success at capturing the high-value target in their area and how it was the princess.
After a few minutes of talking, Nick returned with a different look on his face, and Sarah wiped her eyes, having cried from laughing so hard. “Oh, I don’t think I can survive another laughing fit like that. It was too funny.” Nick took a deep breath, causing Sarah to look up in amused horror as Nick spoke, “Command told me to contact the Karvrithaks and use any means necessary to get them to agree to the cease-fire.” And Sarah smirked while holding in her laughter and got slapped upside the head for it.
She screamed in pain, “What was that for?” and Nick smiled. “You said if you started laughing, you were going to die. I just saved your life.” Taking a deep breath, Sarah nods. “I guess, but you could have held back.” Rolaea’s embarrassment died down enough that she started to glare at Nick. “If you think for a second, I will marry you. I would rather die!” Nick held a finger up and bopped Rolaea on the nose to silence her. “Not getting married.” Turned to Sarvik, “Going to get Tony to agree to a cease-fire anyway.” And then turned to Sarah, “Someone is getting a demotion.” To which she replied, “Worth it.”
Nick sighed and walked away to a secluded area he and Sarah would talk, and Sarah started to follow. “Though, I’m in agreement with killing the princess; it will be a nice revenge for everything the furballs have done to us since the war started.” A hand going to her sidearm. Nick turned to her “Put it away, I don’t like the idea either. It could at least be enough of a distraction to get the upper hand or get some end to this war.” Sarah looked at him seriously for the first time since starting the conversation with the aliens. Nick nods. “You have a weird way of grieving, you know that. Your humor was bad before, but this is twisted. No, we are not going to plan a red wedding. We’ll use it as a cover to regroup and.”
Sarah groaned out of frustration. “Why are we even listening to the human collation? They abandoned us, and then when our resistance group got good enough, they contacted us and started demanding we follow their orders.” Nick nods. “Ya, not like they started giving us intel, equipment, trained soldiers,” causing Sarah to stop him. “Ok, ok, you made your point… still… marriage?”
Nick shrugs at that. “When we started fighting, I thought about how men used to throw themselves on grenades to save others… I’ve always been ready to do that…. I guess to save lives, I’ll have to take an arrow to the knee.” Before starting to walk back in, a smile returned to Sarah’s face; without turning, Nick simply said, “Knew that would get that cursed smile back.”
The two Karvrithaks had been arguing again, with the princess drowning out the stewart whenever he tried to give the transmission frequency to contact the king. Nick picked up a clean… ish rag and shoved it into the princess’ mouth. “Alright, fine I accept.” Getting a muffled scream of anger from the princess followed by what was surely an obscenity-filled tongue lashing, defeated by a rag. Sarvick looked at Nick, angry for the first time. “We might be your prisoners, but that is no way to treat the princess or your future wife.” Nick nods some. “Would you like me to remove it and risk going deaf in that ear?” Pointing to the one that was on the side of the princess. A momentary glance from Sarvik at the princess who was still trying to yell between attempts to remove the rag stuck on her sharp teeth, got a “For now. The signal frequency is 195.2515.234.202. Also, I would refrain from using your human slur for our leader. He doesn’t much like being compared to a human breakfast cereal mascot.”
Nick nods, then helps Sarvik to his feet and turns to Sarah. “I could use my second in command.” Gets a sigh of annoyance as she rebuttons the strap holding her sidearm while standing. “OK.” After approaching the coms the operator puts in the frequency and releasing Sarvick’s hands he types in a code as the image of the king of the Karvrithaks comes on with a roar of a statement “How dare you lay a hand on my daughter if she is not returned to me within one earth hour I will glass the planet as I would rather see her dead than at the mercy of you lowly.” As Nick decided to throw him off his game, “Calm down, Dad.” Causing the king to stop. “What did you call me, and why is Sarvik standing next to you?”
Sarvik coughed to grab the attention of the group and to make this more noble than commoner “It is with much honor and regret that I have to inform you that this human has successfully completed the right of binding.” This information caused the King’s lower Jaw to drop, and Sarah chimed in, “Funny you mentioned hand earlier because he’s taking your daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king looked outraged. “You’re going to cut her hand off for marriage!?” and Sarvik raised a hand. “It is a figure of speech, Your Majesty. Humans call grabbing another’s hand with your own taking. Often done before the rings are placed on the hand of the one being wed.” Nick and Sarah both turn to look at Sarvik, who doesn’t turn his head. “A steward must be informed on all relevant information.”
Nick turns back to the king. “As your future son-in-law, I ask that you have your forces stand down. Don’t want to accidentally kill a relative of mine, do you?” The king let out a low growl of annoyance as a spitting sound was heard behind the group. The princess finally worked the rag out of her mouth. “I object to this wedding.” only getting a yell in response: “I can’t stop it. If Sarvik has said the terms have been met, I would have to break years of tradition and condemn our bloodline to death to break it.”
The two humans went wide-eyed as they didn’t realize how seriously the Karvrithaks took their tradition. Turning his head, the king spoke solemnly, “Tell our generals to stand down and to return fire if fired upon.” The coms operator relayed the message to the human command, which quickly ordered a similar command. Turning back, the King looked like he was about ready to reach through the screen and strangle him. “Know this, human, if you have lied about your intent. I was originally planning on subjugating the humans, but I will exterminate your species if you are lying.” And Nick swallowed hard at the sudden realization that his plan of using this as a cover for the human forces to regroup was a bigger gamble than he first thought. Sarah smirked and turned to look up at Nick. “No pressure.”
2024.05.19 20:36 Radiant-Artist-8419 Will I receive an extra fine?
Skip to the last 2 paragraphs the rest is here for context/story. A few days ago one of my good friends drove me to a party. He said he wanted to drink since I didn’t want to and I said it’s fine since I can just drive his car back to his house and we both crash the night there. Issue was he was on his green Ps and i’m on reds so his car had green Ps and no one had red Ps or spare red Ps.
While driving home I saw one of my other good friends cars and high beamed him a few times. The limit was 80 I stuck to it but he went like 90 and absolutely gapped me. Anyways 2km later a nice chrysler srt pulls up and chucks on the sirens. I pull over straight away and turn off the car. The officer comes and takes my license. He then straight just says accuses me for using carplay. I said it’s not even my car and that I physically haven’t connected my phone but he made me “prove it” by turning it back on.
He wandered back to his car for a minute and came back. He asked me what speed I went I said 80 and he’s like ahaha sure buddy don’t lie and tell me the truth and I said i’m going 80 and he kept trying to make me slip up or something but I said I don’t speed since I wouldn’t risk it and he walks back and comes with breath test now which is fair I guess it’s normal to breath test people anyways and wanders back the car again. He comes about 4 minutes later and said i’m in trouble for using high beams.
Not sure why he had to be so mean and keep trying to accuse me of random stuff it would’ve been fine if he just got to the point I guess I just wanted to get home and it wasn’t even past the red P curfew times so I just stayed as honest and calm as possible.
Anyways he said it’s not a big deal since it’s only one demerit and I will have 6 left. Thing we still joke about is the fact he didn’t realise i’m on my reds after he scanned my license and checked my driving records but there you have it’s the ones responsible to keep the community safe I guess.
He didn’t issue anything didn’t make me do anything on the spot and since he couldn’t even identify I was on my red plates did I receive a fine? He said I may get a fine sent by mail but that’s it do they usually give something in person or is it just fully dealt with by mail? Another question is if they realise I had the wrong plates on after I left can they fine me for that even though they didn’t bring it up when I was there?
submitted by Radiant-Artist-8419 to CarsAustralia [link] [comments]
While driving home I saw one of my other good friends cars and high beamed him a few times. The limit was 80 I stuck to it but he went like 90 and absolutely gapped me. Anyways 2km later a nice chrysler srt pulls up and chucks on the sirens. I pull over straight away and turn off the car. The officer comes and takes my license. He then straight just says accuses me for using carplay. I said it’s not even my car and that I physically haven’t connected my phone but he made me “prove it” by turning it back on.
He wandered back to his car for a minute and came back. He asked me what speed I went I said 80 and he’s like ahaha sure buddy don’t lie and tell me the truth and I said i’m going 80 and he kept trying to make me slip up or something but I said I don’t speed since I wouldn’t risk it and he walks back and comes with breath test now which is fair I guess it’s normal to breath test people anyways and wanders back the car again. He comes about 4 minutes later and said i’m in trouble for using high beams.
Not sure why he had to be so mean and keep trying to accuse me of random stuff it would’ve been fine if he just got to the point I guess I just wanted to get home and it wasn’t even past the red P curfew times so I just stayed as honest and calm as possible.
Anyways he said it’s not a big deal since it’s only one demerit and I will have 6 left. Thing we still joke about is the fact he didn’t realise i’m on my reds after he scanned my license and checked my driving records but there you have it’s the ones responsible to keep the community safe I guess.
He didn’t issue anything didn’t make me do anything on the spot and since he couldn’t even identify I was on my red plates did I receive a fine? He said I may get a fine sent by mail but that’s it do they usually give something in person or is it just fully dealt with by mail? Another question is if they realise I had the wrong plates on after I left can they fine me for that even though they didn’t bring it up when I was there?
2024.05.19 20:24 _red_onion Weird "date"
I don't really know how to assess this.
So I (35f) have been talking to a girl (31f) on HER since like a couple of weeks now. We vibe well, and we agreed we would go out on a date today.
She flashed a red flag at one point, when I told her about a bad date I had with someone (33f) who photoshopped her photos like a lot, at which point she asked me what my weight was. I gave her the info, but it did seem quite immature of a question.
Fast forward to today, I arrived at the park where we were supposed ro meet, and she messages me she is at a different spot (although I did send her a Google location with where to meet). I walk towards there and she messages "oh is that you with the back pack? Actually you are not my style, I no longer want to meet you". Apparently she was watching me from afar and didn't like what she saw. I replied that I found her judgement superficial and unmatched.
I am overweight and facing my own insecurities related to it, but this brought it up once more.
How frequent does this happen?
submitted by _red_onion to LesbianActually [link] [comments]
So I (35f) have been talking to a girl (31f) on HER since like a couple of weeks now. We vibe well, and we agreed we would go out on a date today.
She flashed a red flag at one point, when I told her about a bad date I had with someone (33f) who photoshopped her photos like a lot, at which point she asked me what my weight was. I gave her the info, but it did seem quite immature of a question.
Fast forward to today, I arrived at the park where we were supposed ro meet, and she messages me she is at a different spot (although I did send her a Google location with where to meet). I walk towards there and she messages "oh is that you with the back pack? Actually you are not my style, I no longer want to meet you". Apparently she was watching me from afar and didn't like what she saw. I replied that I found her judgement superficial and unmatched.
I am overweight and facing my own insecurities related to it, but this brought it up once more.
How frequent does this happen?
2024.05.19 20:23 StudentOfSociology [Chinese > English] Graphic in a news article
I'm able to auto-Google Translate the main text of this Chinese news article. However, that Chinese news article includes at the bottom a long vertical graphic -- in red, white, and manilla-ish colors -- with a lot of Chinese on it that I can't copy + paste into an auto-translator. I'd like to know if anything in that graphic refers to short videos, short-form videos, or TikTok or ByteDance specifically. If so, what does it say about that.
For context, in March 2023, a US Congresswoman, Kat Cammack, publicly asked the TikTok CEO "Are you aware of Chinese Communist Party leader Chairman Xi Jinping's comments in May 2021 during a Communist Poll Bureau study session where he instructed colleagues to target different countries, different audiences with short form video"
The news article I've found about Xi's comments doesn't mention anything about "short form video" hence my desire to have the graphic translated since maybe "short form video" or similar is mentioned in the graphic. Best of all would be if anybody happens to spot a full transcript of Xi's full comments on that day, which other sources tell me was specifically 31 May 2021. Thanks for your patience!
.
submitted by StudentOfSociology to translator [link] [comments]
For context, in March 2023, a US Congresswoman, Kat Cammack, publicly asked the TikTok CEO "Are you aware of Chinese Communist Party leader Chairman Xi Jinping's comments in May 2021 during a Communist Poll Bureau study session where he instructed colleagues to target different countries, different audiences with short form video"
The news article I've found about Xi's comments doesn't mention anything about "short form video" hence my desire to have the graphic translated since maybe "short form video" or similar is mentioned in the graphic. Best of all would be if anybody happens to spot a full transcript of Xi's full comments on that day, which other sources tell me was specifically 31 May 2021. Thanks for your patience!
.
2024.05.19 20:21 Due-Necessary6252 I really need your help please!
Hello everyone. Please I need help and I don't know what to do anymore if anyone has any useful information, if they have been in the same situation or can help me in any way I would be very grateful. I'll explain my situation in detail.
I had unprotected sex more than three months ago. A week later I started itching all over my body (even my hair, everywhere). At the same time I got dermographism, as soon as I scratch myself it leaves a red mark and it swells but it disappears 15min later, I can write on my skin with it. I've also had little white spots on my upper lip and the same thing on my genital area, but they don't itch or do anything.
First of all I did a blood count and it turned out that the number of white blood cells in my blood was very high: 14,000 whereas the normal is between 4,000 and 10,000, which shows that I have an infection. I took the HIV test exactly three months after and it was negative. The syphilis test after a week was also negative. And my liver test (transaminase test) was normal two months after intercourse. And the doctor told me that the white spots on my lip were not herpes, i looked online and i’m not sure if its just fordyce spots. I also took antibiotics as a preventive measure (a third-generation injectable).
But after all that, the itching hasn't stopped, the whiteheads on my lip haven't changed and I have no other symptoms. Now I take an antihistamine for the itching and that's it. I still don't know what I have and what's causing the itching if anyone has any idea what it could be please tell me I'm really freaking out.
submitted by Due-Necessary6252 to STD [link] [comments]
I had unprotected sex more than three months ago. A week later I started itching all over my body (even my hair, everywhere). At the same time I got dermographism, as soon as I scratch myself it leaves a red mark and it swells but it disappears 15min later, I can write on my skin with it. I've also had little white spots on my upper lip and the same thing on my genital area, but they don't itch or do anything.
First of all I did a blood count and it turned out that the number of white blood cells in my blood was very high: 14,000 whereas the normal is between 4,000 and 10,000, which shows that I have an infection. I took the HIV test exactly three months after and it was negative. The syphilis test after a week was also negative. And my liver test (transaminase test) was normal two months after intercourse. And the doctor told me that the white spots on my lip were not herpes, i looked online and i’m not sure if its just fordyce spots. I also took antibiotics as a preventive measure (a third-generation injectable).
But after all that, the itching hasn't stopped, the whiteheads on my lip haven't changed and I have no other symptoms. Now I take an antihistamine for the itching and that's it. I still don't know what I have and what's causing the itching if anyone has any idea what it could be please tell me I'm really freaking out.
2024.05.19 20:13 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
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 is 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.
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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 is 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.
2024.05.19 20:12 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
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 is 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.
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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 is 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.
2024.05.19 20:10 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
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 is 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.
submitted by PageTurner627 to creepypasta [link] [comments]
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 is 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.
2024.05.19 20:08 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
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 is 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.
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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 is 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.
2024.05.19 20:03 MaterialStranger4007 Red spot on nose
 | Apologies in advance for this up close shot showing every pore—but I have a question. Let me preface by saying I have a dermatologist appt in a couple weeks and had my last one back in January so I go regularly. But I finally noticed this red spot / pustule on the side of my nose has yet to go away and I’ve realized it has been there for at least six months now. It doesn’t scab over or do anything, really. No changes. It’s not really raised, that I can tell. I just finally realized that I must have subconsciously thought it was a zit this whole time and it’s never gone away. it doesn’t take much makeup to cover it up, but has anyone seen or had anything like this? submitted by MaterialStranger4007 to 30PlusSkinCare [link] [comments] |