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Randyll Tarly - Blackfyre Supporter (my first theory)
2024.05.19 13:26 Orange_Menace1 Randyll Tarly - Blackfyre Supporter (my first theory)
 | Note: I started writing this and it got away from me. Rather than fill in the unfinished points, I've just left them there for everyone to consider submitted by Orange_Menace1 to asoiaf [link] [comments] PrefaceRandyll Tarly on a first read through is a jerk. He tortures Sam, insults Brienne, implements draconian justice and downplays the golden company threat. Prima-Facie, he is a violent commander with little political cunning.Except for his results. By the end of ADWD · He receives accolades for every battle fought (I hold fire on the term won) · He holds the queen in his custody. · He has a voice at council · He secured his chosen heir in defiance of westrosi customs If we assume these things didn’t happen by chance, we can re-examine some of his older achievements, actions, and then try to sort out his motives. Randyll Tarly as a CommanderRoberts RebellionBattle of AshfordContext: The battle of Ashford was Roberts one defeat in his rebellion. Tarly’s van sailed forward and defeated Roberts host, but the battle was inconclusive. Robert retreated to the stony sept, recovered, regrouped, and when his allies arrived and consolidated forces, used this new army to win the war.Relevant Sections – directly on point paragraphs:A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IIITyrion had to bite his tongue at that. Robb Stark had won more battles in a year than the Lord of Highgarden had in twenty. ~Tyrell's reputation rested on one indecisive victory over Robert Baratheon at Ashford, in a battle largely won by Lord Tarly's van before the main host had even arrived.~A Storm of Swords - Davos V"Edric, you ought not boast," Maester Pylos said. "King Robert suffered defeats like any other man. Lord Tyrell bested him at Ashford, and he lost many a tourney tilt as well."A Storm of Swords - Samwell V"Your father is an able soldier," King Stannis said. "He defeated my brother once, at Ashford. Mace Tyrell has been pleased to claim the honors for that victory, but Lord Randyll had decided matters before Tyrell ever found the battlefield. He slew Lord Cafferen with that great Valyrian sword of his and sent his head to Aerys." The king rubbed his jaw with a finger. "You are not the sort of son I would expect such a man to have."A Dance with Dragons - The Griffin Reborn~He had lost it all at Stoney Sept, in his arrogance.~~Robert Baratheon had been hiding somewhere in the town, wounded and alone. Jon Connington had known that, and he had also known that Robert's head upon a spear would have put an end to the rebellion, then and there~. He was young and full of pride. How not? King Aerys had named him Hand and given him an army, and he meant to prove himself worthy of that trust, of Rhaegar's love. He would slay the rebel lord himself and carve a place out for himself in all the histories of the Seven Kingdoms. Other information gleaned from context· Tarly did not inflict substantial casualties· Robert won the battle of the trident within a year – Ashford is 282AC and the trident is 283 · Robert fled to and was sheltered in the stony sept, where Jon Connington failed to flush him out. The battle of the bells occurred in 283AC, as did the battle of the trident shortly after AnalysisRandyll leads the van some distance ahead of the main force, gets into a battle with the rebels, and inflicts minor to moderate casualties before they escape. Tyrell takes the credit.From a military point of view, if the battle had not been decided before the main force arrived, the war would have likely ended. A much larger force (with assumedly many more horsemen) would have won the battle both more conclusively, and been able to pursue. By all rights, the strategy enforced by Mace Tyrell should have won the war (this theme will come in later in this theory), but for the fact only a fraction of his army engaged far ahead of the main host. As an aside and jumping ahead a little – Tarly avoids doing this after the blackwater, closing off escape routes and slaughtering everyone. This hints at the fact that Ashford was a tactical mistake. The first three viewpoints we receive on the battle are of note. · Tyrion points out the battle was indecisive, and ~decided before the main host arrived~. He focuses on the victory in ‘battle’ as opposed to war. · Stannis points out how able Randyll is by defeating his brother once at Ashford. Although unable to ascribe any special military strategy to Randyll, he calls him ‘able’ and decided matters before Tyrell arrived. He also flags that Mace Tyrell claimed the honours for the victory and he thinks this undeserved. It’s interesting as it’s Maces host at Ashford, a host that by all rights should have crushed Roberts army in a single battle – given the van alone defeated him. He also ascribes the only kill of note as lord Cafferen · Maester Pylos points out that Robert lost battles at Ashford and flags it was Tyrell who bested him. The battle by all appearances, was a farce. Ashford could have ended the war. Arguably, even with the van alone deciding the fight, it very nearly did. Instead, the battle is determined indecisive, there is no ‘impressive kill and capture list’ indicating the host was not captured or killed (as opposed to routed), and Mace has this massive potentially war-ending host not doing much because Robert is in retreat before it arrives. Furthermore despite all this, Tarly very nearly won the day at Ashford. Robert suffered a serious – but nonfatal wound that seemingly took months (and at least weeks) to recover. The fact that a seriously wounded Robert was able to escape despite distinctive armour and weaponry raises questions of its own. Finally, when Robert was wounded and hidden in the aftermath whilst he recovered, narratively it allowed JonCon to lay siege to the stony sept. As a parallel, one of the themes I will later touch on is how Tarly changes after this battle, and we know JonCon swears to kill more and become Tywin 2.0. as a direct result of the events at the sept. We see a similar change in Tarly. It’s also of note that Tarly and Tyrell at this point were on the Targaryen side. This crops up later when we look into other motivations and goals. Aftermath So we know that Robert suffers wounds and is somewhat detached from his host (be it they left him in the stoney sept or he scattered off from the main host). We know this as he ends up wounded in the Stoney Sept. After this, the battle of the bells and all the great victories that ended the war occur. Notably, Tarly has no major military achievements after this battle. Since Mace Tyrell was invested in the siege of Storms end, it can be presumed Tarly was positioned with the main force. The next time we see him is in the battle of 5 kings – Discussion with Renly – The Siege of Stannis
Battle of the BlackwaterA Clash of Kings - Sansa VIIThey came up the roseroad and along the riverbank, through all the fields Stannis had burned, the ashes puffing up around their boots and turning all their armor grey, but oh! the banners must have been bright, the golden rose and golden lion and all the others, the Marbrand tree and the Rowan~, Tarly's huntsman~ and Redwyne's grapes and Lady Oakheart's leaf. All the westermen, all the power of Highgarden and Casterly Rock! ~Lord Tywin himself had their right wing~ on the north side of the river, with Randyll Tarly commanding the center and ~Mace Tyrell the left,~ but the vanguard won the fight. They plunged through Stannis like a lance through a pumpkin, every man of them howling like some demon in steel. And do you know who led the vanguard? Do you? Do you? Do you?"A Storm of Swords - Catelyn II"I told you to hold Riverrun," said Robb. "What part of that command did you fail to comprehend?""When you stopped Lord Tywin on the Red Fork," said the Blackfish, "you delayed him just long enough for riders out of Bitterbridge to reach him with word of what was happening to the east. ~Lord Tywin turned his host at once, joined up with Matthis Rowan and Randyll Tarly~ near the headwaters of the Blackwater, and made a forced march to Tumbler's Falls, ~where he found Mace Tyrell and two of his sons waiting with a huge host and a fleet of barges~. They floated down the river, disembarked half a day's ride from the city, and took Stannis in the rear." We know tywin likes to put his strength on his flanks and in the reserveInterestingly, Mace is there too, and it’s a tyrell van this time, not tarlyLord Tywin himself had their right wing on the north side of the river, with Randyll Tarly commanding the center and Mace Tyrell the left, but the vanguard won the fight. They plunged through Stannis like a lance through a pumpkin, every man of them howling like some demon in steel. ACOK 62: SANSA VII AnalysisFirst the parallels. Mace Tyrell is paralleled to Tywin on the two flanks. It is a tyrell in the van who decides the day. Randyll commands the center.Logistically, the battle is won by Mace Tyrell (whom I love as a character) with a fleet of barges and a huge host already in position (allowing the army to cross quickly enough to intercept the battle of the blackwater). Also the messenger that draws in Tywin’s host comes from Bitterbridge – Tyrell Lands. Given the van wins the battle, there’s a fair argument that Mace could have won the battle alone, albeit with all the support he wins a crushing victory instead. So Randyll is relegated to an important, but ultimately ancillary position. Whether the battle is won by Tywin or Mace (and by all logistical accounts, it’s Mace), is another question, but the ‘finest soldier in the seven kingdoms’ is once again, somewhat ineffectual. He still commands the center in such a battle, but he displays no logistical or battle prowess in this fight either, just being a renowned commander in the right place at the right time. Battle of Duskendale· Lord Randyll defeats a northern army. The army is mostly foot and misplaced· This time, few excape – XXXX cuts off the retreat. · Some theories say he was tipped off by Roose Bolton. · This time he gets the commander · Figth occurs in FIELDS AND FARMS. Bad terrain for a retreat. Glover TRAPPED against blackwater bay · Note that Glover had to be captured lest bolton treachery be revealed. Cannot be allowed to send raven. · Strong implication of a trap and tipoff A Storm of Swords - Catelyn IVWhen they brought him word of the battle at Duskendale, where Lord Randyll Tarly had shattered Robett Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart, he might have been expected to rage.A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIIIBut who would be mad enough to contest Joffrey's rule now, after what had befallen Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark? There was still fighting in the riverlands, but everywhere the coils were tightening. Ser Gregor Clegane had crossed the Trident and seized the ruby ford, then captured Harrenhal almost effortlessly. Seagard had yielded to Black Walder Frey, ~Lord Randyll Tarly held Maidenpool, Duskendale, and the kingsroad.~A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III"No," their father said. "With the war. Varys."The eunuch smiled a silken smile. "I have such delicious tidings for you all, my lords. Yesterday at dawn our ~brave Lord Randyll caught Robett Glover outside Duskendale and trapped him against the sea. Losses were heavy on both sides, but in the end our loyal men prevailed. Ser Helman Tallhart is reported dead, with a thousand others. Robett Glover leads the survivors back toward Harrenhal in bloody disarray, little dreaming he will find valiant Ser Gregor and his stalwarts athwart his path."~ A Storm of Swords - Tyrion I"Until Lord Redwyne brings his fleet up, we lack the ships to assail Dragonstone. It makes no matter. Stannis Baratheon's sun set on the Blackwater. ~As for Stark, the boy is still in the west, but a large force of northmen under Helman Tallhart and Robett Glover are descending toward Duskendale. I've sent Lord Tarly to meet them, while Ser Gregor drives up the kingsroad to cut off their retreat.~ Tallhart and Glover will be caught between them, with a third of Stark's strength."A Storm of Swords - Catelyn IVWhen they brought him word of the battle at Duskendale, where ~Lord Randyll Tarly had shattered Robett Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart,~ he might have been expected to rage. Instead he'd stared in dumb disbelief and said, "Duskendale, on the narrow sea? Why would they go to Duskendale?" He'd shook his head, bewildered. "A third of my foot, lost for Duskendale?""The ironmen have my castle and now the Lannisters hold my brother," Galbart Glover said, in a voice thick with despair. Robett Glover had survived the battle, but had been captured near the kingsroad not long after. A Feast for Crows - Brienne IILord Randyll Tarly had commanded Joffrey's army, made up of westermen and stormlanders and knights from the Reach. Those men of his who had died here had been carried back inside the walls, to rest in heroes' tombs beneath the septs of Duskendale. The northern dead, far more numerous, were buried in a common grave beside the sea. Above the cairn that marked their resting place, the victors had raised a rough-hewn wooden marker. HERE LIE THE WOLVES was all it said. Brienne stopped beside it and said a silent prayer for them, and for Catelyn Stark and her son Robb and all the men who'd died with them as well.AnalysisFirstly we start with the obvious comparison. Tarly lets Robert escape when Mace otherwise very nearly won the war. Given another chance, Randyll pins his enemy against the sea and plans to not let a man escape. Having somewhat surrounded the opponent on known land, with reinforcements (Clegane) behind him, he still manages to suffer heavy casualties, and the target (XXXX) escapes.What a colossal mistake. The only good news is he intercepted enough of the force that it seems no ravens got sent off showing exactly what happened, as if one message got back, the whole red wedding could have been undone. Now prior posts have analyzed duskendale about allowing paths of retreat, and number of losses, but I think there are three key takeaways 1) The stark contrast between this and his tactics at Ashford 2) The fact that he failed to capture the host and Gregor Clegane had to clean up the mess 3) The fact he suffered heavy losses when by all rights he had every advantage (and still failed to capture the army) Interestingly, the message that gets to Robb is that Tarly shattered glover. The actual message from Varys is only 1000 were killed, with Tallhart. Now its difficult to say how many foot there were, but it’s not unreasonable to assume that 1000 is less than to around half the force. Clegane captures Glover in the aftermath (thankfully), and Robb gets the report that Tarly shattered the force, when in actuality a good chunk of it was Clegane. As a sidenote- this is indicative that Clegane actually isn’t a bad commander, and in turn this makes the fact that Edmure Tully threw him back more impressive. We also don’t hear of any captives other than the ones taken by Clegane. It appears Tarly is putting men to the sword (SEE EARLIER). Now before we get into conspiracy theories, we see Glover in ADWD conspiring with Madderly to help the starks and Stannis, so it seems this was not some cunning scheme where he secretly got himself captured. Interestingly, the graves Brienne sees seem to indicate a crushing victory for Tarly, like the one described by Robb. This however is at odds with the report of Varys, and the fact Clegane had to mop up the leftover army. Now there are a few possibilities for this. Varys could be wrong/lying, heavy losses is being thrown around as a relative term (but that seems suspect), or the total of Tarly dead and Clegane’s role is being hidden. The last seems the most likely, Robb hears of a crushing defeat led by Tarly not Clegane (which we know is at least partially false), the dead he kills don’t add up, and there’s no mention of Clegane whom definitely did some of the work. Also even assuming the whole situation is true and Tarly killed men at a 2/1 ratio, this assumes there are 500 heroes tombs under the septs at Duskendale. Simply put, there may not be that many. The whole aftermath stinks of a coverup. Tarly is getting Cleganes credit (and interestingly, it’s around now that Tywin decides not to give Clegane to oberyn). Finally we get to the tinfoily bit. Helman garrisoned with Walder Frey to make sure he kept peace. Of the two lords, Helman is arguably more problematic, he knows more of Frey habits (when Tywin is scheming a betrayal) and his nephew is a possible hornwood claimant (cough Roose cough). If there was a conspiracy to kill one and ransom the other – I can see a world where Talhart is the one to be killed. In all reality though, this is a bit too ambitious, and in reality one just died and one escaped – without some super scheme that Tarly was involved in. So in summary – once again Tarly fails his mission. At best, he bloodies an out of position army whilst taking heavy casualties, with his reinforcements on the way, and half the army breaks free (admittedly into Clegane). This is not a great display of prowess. We also know its possible to capture these men as hostages, as Clegane successfully does so – and Tarly fails to once again. Now it’s not catastrophic as the Northerners are bleeding men and trading troops tit for tat is beneficial, but the battle itself (the thing Randyll is in charge of) is highly unimpressive. The strategic victory goes to Tywin, whom in truth entrusts it as much to Gregor Clegane as to Tarly. As it so happens, Clegane delivers and Tarly doesn’t. A summary as a commanderTalk about failing upwards· Charging ahead, he is able to turn a crushing win into an indecisive one which ultimately leads to Roberts Rebellion succeeding · He gives counsel to Renly about the sun when renly knows that the sheer strength of his cavalry makes the issue moot. Renly all but ignores him. · He doesn’t appear to do much during the battle of the blackwater · He manages to mess up essentially an ambush at Duskendale despite reinforcements being on the way · As a result of the 4 above points, he is given, lands, titles, honors and a position on the small council. Upon actually reviewing his achievements and each individual battle, I’ve 180’d on Tarly. George RR Martin does a great job building him up, and having everyone describe him as a great commander, but actually unpacking his battles, he looks pretty underwhelming. The most important battle he won was Ashford, but that was a strategic catastrophe which otherwise could have potentially let Mace Tyrell win the war. Afterwards he’s carefully managed, with Renly outright dismissing him, Mace keeping the key positions of command in other people’s hands and Tywin going so far as to dispatch a trusted force behind him in the event he fails again – WHICH HE DOES. Politicks, Loyalties and ConspiraciesThere’s a lot to get through so I’m not going to source everything here. Rather, I’ll list dot points, and we will be collecting everything under theories. In time it may be worth sourcing this all, but for now, I want to get something out – so it’ll be shortform· Historically house is blackfyre · Renly Sworn NOT STANNIS · Joined at bitterbridge to Renly · Shadowbaby and killing others · VIEWS ON MAESTERS · Killing Stannis supporters at bitterbridge · Saving Brienne · Helping Brienne / Bewilderment · Views on Women and Strongmen · Sam, Maesters, the Marches and Strength · Maidenpool Rulership · Renown amonst common men · Downplaying the Golden Company · Bravosi Debts · Taking the QUEEN ahead of Mace Tyrell Theoreis Stemming off Data The Blackfyre TheoryLet’s assume that Randyll supported the Blackfyres because his house traditionally were Blackfyre Loyalists. This is a little thin on evidence, but quite a few of his actions also support this, lending some credence to the theory1) He swore to Renly not Stannis. a. Stannis was 17 or 18 when he held storms end. He is approximately 13 years older than Renly, making Renly 5 at the time. This means that during Roberts Rebellion, for all relevant purposes, Renly was a non-participant, whilst Stannis actively fought against the dragons. If Randyll is a dragon supporter, his repulsion at joining Stannis is apparent. b. In fact, he goes as far as to kill stannis supporters at bitterbridge to consolidate the reach forces. This is interesting as it contrasts stannis whom takes pains to not kill the karstarks to a man once he realizes their treason. 2) He downplays the golden company a. At the end of AFWC, Randyll is downplaying the golden company as much as he can. If we assume he is pro-dragon, this gives time for the blackfyre cause to swell, as he delays Kevan Lannister to the best of his ability 3) He hates the Maesters a. Between the Grand Maester Conspiracy [LINK], lady Dustin’s general hatred of Maesters and Marwyn’s comments about Maesters and Dragons, it seems credible that dragon supporters may have cause to mistrust Maesters. Indeed, we get hints of this from Doran, and a general mistrust of Maesters by some of the lesser lords. i. "I would need a bucket, with this pain. Thank you, but no. I want my wits about me. I'll have no more need of you tonight." b. This explains also why he is so determined Sam will not become a Maester and why he drives him to the nights watch. If he is a loyalist, he’s never going to let a member of his family into an enemy order. If Sam is given any sort of free reign in a role other than lord, he’s going to end up a Maester (indeed even at the nights watch he ends up there, despite his protests and fears of his fathers wroth). 4) Do we actually see any trouble in the marches. I don’t think we do and it’s only STANNIS who fears dorne through the marches, not Tarly or Tyrell. In fact, this area is left undefended when they march on the blackwater. a. I have a sub-theory that despite complaining a lot, we don’t see any real antagonism between Dorne and the reach throughout the series, just some loud complaining that makes us think of antagonism. Oberyn hints at this to Tyrion. 5) Killing Florents a. Florents have ties to Stannis b. Florents are Tyrell rivals c. Florents instantly defect to stannis. Note they were set aside by dragons over highgarden d. Their protests were denied by King Aegon I, perhaps because the Florents had fought House Targaryen when the Tyrells did not. e. https://www.reddit.com/asoiaf/comments/3tr6gx/spoilers_all_house_of_the_week_house_florent/ i. Theories florents Green 6) This is of course also consistent with him racing Ahead of Mace Tyrell’s army and having the Tyrell queen taken into his personal custody. Unfortunately, this bodes badly for our lovely doe-eyed Margery. Oh well. 7) ~If it were up to me, I would send them all to the Night's Watch, and Connington with them. The Wall is where such scum belong."~ He’s setting it up so the only legitimate claimant of JonCon’s lands is in fact, JonCon. Obviously a new lord can be appointed, but this suggested move adds legitimacy to the blackfyre cause, removing the heir apparent and putting JonCon back in his ancestral lands without a real challenger. 1) The ‘show of strength / toxic masculinity theory’ a. This theory has to do with Tarly appearing competent millirarily rather than being competent. He doles harsh justice and havy discipline, which in some ways hides his lackluster results as a commander. I should note this is the weakest of the three theories, but it sort of feeds into the other two. b. This would be indicative of his hatred for Sam. The moment the ‘veil’ of masculinity and strength is lifted, his actual achievements are lackluster c. After ashford he appears much more brutal than before. We have no indication he was brutal pre Ashford, and post ashford he’s executing enemies, cornering and murdering northmen to a man (as best he can at least) and doling out harsher justice than his peers d. Every character who speaks of Tarly speaks of his millirary accolades. I think his ‘larger than life’ persona has played at least a part in this, and Tarly looks the part as the veteran commander. e. I ought to note this theory doesn’t stop Tarly from playing the game of thrones, it just suggests he isn’t an exceptional tactical commander. Logistically, he has always been with the winning side as a vassal, he’s been able to spin every battle to gain honors and accolades, and he has a knack for being in the right place at the right time (declaring for renly early, being in the van at ashford etc.) f. All that aside, this theory also doesn’t stop Tarly from being a jerk. Given how he acts to Sam and both towards and around Brienne, we are naturally inclined to mislike him as a harsh leader. 2) Not as dumb as he looks theory a. He’s taken the queen into his personal Custody. We literally heard from Renly back in book 1 – he who holds the XXXX holds the crown. With all the chaos in the recent books, it’s easy to miss, but this is a huge move in the game of thrones. The Tyrells do not have the queen. Tarly does. b. As far as I can tell, he’s never been at real risk in a battle since Ashford. He had backup and numbers at duskendale, a massive host at the blackwater, The Siege of Storms End was just a great big preservation of army by Mace whilst Roberts rebellion raged, and the Siege on Stannis was totally lopsided but for magic shadow-baby. c. Dorne does not seem to have acted against him once nor demanded concessions. [CHECK]. For a lord in the Dornish Marches which have been tumultuous for years, this is somewhat of a big deal. He also seems to be unafraid of moving his forced forward – we have no indication he left levies to protect himself from Dorne, hinting that he wasn’t afraid of Dorne misbehaving (even if only to harry border towns, a bit like Bolton grabbing up the hornwood lands). d. He sucks up to the bravosi Banker when all the debts are being called in. We have this picture of this strong, just, military man, but the banker scene shows he’s not just a sword arm, and he knows when to suck up. This is important as it shows he is at least considering the wider world and the future outside of the battles, as opposed to a certain dwarf whom never actually meets the bankers. e. He has turned a bunch of mediocre achievements into being renowned as the greatest soldier in the realm. By all rights, Stannis and Robb are much better commanders (with the caveat that Robb was only good tactically). If we want to get nasty, Mace Tyrell has only won crushing victories – with the exception of ashford (messed up by Tarly) and storms end (where he lost no troops in a rebellion that depleted most of the realm). i. The most competent appearing thing he said was to not charge into the sun, which was largely irrelevant when plated heavy cavalry is charging into boiled leather. As Renly said to Stannis, his force wouldn’t survive first impact, so this whole sun business is a bit silly. ii. Arguably the most competent thing was executing all the soldiers considering going over to Stannis, but I’m not sure if this is truly competent or just brutality – Stannis did not do the same with the Karstarks in a similar position. f. He’s bypassed succession laws. By getting rid of Sam he has set himself up with his chosen heir. Look at the thorny knot Tywin tied himself with Tyrion, whom still arguably is the rightful heir to Castelry Rock (which he made full use of with the Second Suns). We know Maesters can be kicked out of the order (see our favourite necromancer), and can be used to play with succession (Aemon is a good example, albeit he said no) and I don’t really see Sam as a priest. i. There’s actually a good question as to whether he would have killed Sam. The gods hate kinslayers, and the threat sufficed. If we assume tarly isn’t an idiot, he would have realized the threat likely sufficient. g. Given how he sets himself up at Maidenpool, its hinted that the Maidenpool land is part of his reward for the blackwater. We never hear of exactly ‘what’ Tarly’s reward is, except in the aftermath he’s patrolling Duskendale (still seemingly with house Rykker),, Maidenpool and the kings road, and seems to be setting himself up in Maidenpool for the long haul. In AFFC, Tarly’s heir is married off to Eleanor Mooton (the seeming heiress to maidenpool) and Tommen pardons Moonton. Maidenpool is a major port in the world of Ice and Fire, which would make it a fine reward[[1]](#_ftn1). 1. Other key takeawaysBRIENNE THINGA Feast for Crows - Brienne IIIRandyll Tarly solved the mystery the day he sent two of his men-at-arms to summon her to his pavilion. His young son Dickon had overheard four knights laughing as they saddled up their horses, and had told his lord father what they said.… "The gods made men to fight, and women to bear children," said Randyll Tarly. "A woman's war is in the birthing bed." Someone was coming down the cellar steps. Brienne pushed her wine aside as a ragged, scrawny, sharp-faced man with dirty brown hair stepped into the Goose. He gave the Tyroshi sailors a quick look and Brienne a longer one, then went up to the plank. "Wine," he said, "and none o' your horse piss in it, thank'e." JUSTICE THINGBattle of the Blackwater – a step SidewaysIn short Randyll Tarly is a shrewd Blackfyre loyalist who now has custody of the queen, a position on the small council and whom is not considered a political threat. He’s not half the commander he’s made out to be, probably has anti-maester sentiment and is possibly friendly with Doran Martell. And he has an army. This has been quite a ride and I’m sure I got many details wrong so let’s end on a high note. Given all this, I expect Randyll to sacrifice Margery and prove ser pounce’s lineage to the age of conquest. Tommen will blindly stamp a document marrying himself to the cat, the white walkers will be appeased (their problem is only humans), and everyone lives happily ever after except for Danerys who dies. Maidenpool https://preview.redd.it/4gfx1jxsbd1d1.png?width=217&format=png&auto=webp&s=a6c648fe2853a80f249aeae5546a21b38b4123e9 |
2024.05.19 13:21 Federal_Machine692 I work as a security guard in a secret government facility, and this is what happened (Part 1)
Buster growled softly, baring his teeth at me as he stood in defiance. His stance rigid and unyielding, his tail stiff, and ears pinned back - he watched my every move with alert eyes.
My 3-year-old German shepherd had intuitively figured out the prospect of an upcoming bath when he saw me reach for the towel, and decided to give me a hard time over it.
“I know buddy. I am not happy about it either. But I will make it quick. I promise,” I tried to reason, holding up both hands to reassure him.
‘But it’s not even been a week…’ I could almost imagine him saying those exact words to me when he growled back in protest.
“You’re right...But listen, man. You’re dirty. I can feel your presence from here,” I said, standing ten feet away and pretending to cover my nostrils with my finger.
Buster, of course, didn’t care and continued to defy without hesitation.
I put my hands on my hip and sighed. My glance immediately shifted to a hose attached to a tap outside my quarters.
“Tell you what. I’ll make it worth your while. You don’t mind the jet spray, right? In fact, you even tolerate it sometimes,” I said, pointing to the hose located only a few feet away.
“How about a little cooperation now, and I’ll make you your favorite meal a little later?” I asked him, while reaching out to pick a can of chicken liver from the kitchen.
As I dangled the can in my hand, I could see it slowly chipping away at his resolve, his mind grappling with the pros and cons of my new proposal.
A moment later, Buster barked at me twice and slowly made his way out of the house. He sat by the garden tap, ready to receive his bath.
I took a handful of lotion and began to rub it against his torso to remove all the muck and grime that was sticking to his body. We had been quite busy lately, guarding the base and conducting multiple patrols along the perimeter every day. The rain a few hours ago certainly didn't help matters, with Buster leaping over puddles of water and actively rolling in the mud to escape the desert heat. I had to use a brush to remove the layers of dirt that had caked all over his body.
It’s been a strange week, to say the least. The days were busy but peaceful, while the nights brought scattered, random sounds. Their origins were a mystery, as they appeared not to originate from the base. But I wasn’t too worried about it, not yet anyway.
There is an air base located a couple of hours away from the facility, and it wasn’t unusual for them to conduct sorties at odd hours in the night. I assumed they were probably testing out some new technology.
My colleague Joe thought the same thing as well. But we couldn’t take any chances, and we both had a job to do. So we conducted regular patrols around the base just as a precautionary measure.
But deep down, I felt something nagging at me, like I was being watched by someone or something. I couldn’t exactly put it into words.
For a second, I wondered if Buster too felt the same way when I saw him suddenly lift his head up, listening intently with his ears up in attention.
I quickly turned back to check if there was anybody standing behind me, but I found no one. When I turned around to face him again, I saw him looking up at the night sky, his gaze focused and unwavering.
“What’s it buddy? You see something?” I asked him as I cleared away the foam from his face. Moments went by slowly. And then, just like that, as if nothing had happened, he put his head down and began pawing my leg, urging me to finish his bath. I sighed again and turned on the hose, to wash off all the soap.
He finally looked presentable and I have to admit, his coat glistened beautifully under the moonlight.
Before I could reach for his towel, Buster swiftly moved in to close the gap between us and looked me in the eye dead serious. He then shook his body vigorously, much like a wet dog trying to rid itself of wetness, and trotted off without bothering to look back.
I laughed out loud as I sat there, drenched in water. I knew I should have seen that coming. However, my smile quickly faded, as it also reminded me of Jessica, my ailing wife.
Before another thought could take shape in my mind, I heard a familiar voice blare across the radio.
“Mike, I need you down here. Get to the post quick.”
It was my colleague Joe and I replied back in the affirmative. I quickly grabbed my gear and signaled Buster to follow after me.
When I reached the post, I saw Joe standing there armed with his rifle. As a seasoned war veteran with two tours under his belt, Joe was a dangerous man and not to be trifled with. But he was also compassionate and wise beyond his years.
“What’s up Joe?” I inquired, as I approached him near the entrance of the base.
“I am not sure yet. I thought I heard something at a distance. It could well be nothing.” he replied, after a brief pause.
‘Well, we’ve had a lot of that going around all week’, I thought to myself.
He then turned around to look at me. “I want you to run a perimeter sweep first. Then go on patrol again. Take Buster with you” he said, before heading back to his post.
I started the jeep and drove out towards the perimeter. The engine hummed softly as I navigated the rough terrain, with Buster sitting alertly beside me. After finding nothing suspicious during my initial sweep, I decided to broaden my search radius.
A mile into the drive, Buster suddenly started barking, prompting me to stop the jeep immediately. He leaped onto the ground and dashed towards a boulder located a short distance away. I picked up my rifle and cautiously followed after him.
When I reached the spot, I keyed the mic attached to my shirt and said, "Boss, you need to come see this."
I knew he wasn’t going to be happy about leaving the guard post unmanned, but I thought he would prefer to come and inspect this himself.
Joe arrived ten minutes later, parking his vehicle next to mine. He walked towards the boulder overlooking a small pond, and switched on his torch to get a better look at the skeletal remains of an animal dumped nearby. Three other animal remains lay next to it, all appearing to be in a similar condition.
“These look like coyotes, probably stopping by to drink water from the pond before they were killed,” he observed, his voice expressing concern. “Did you find them like this?”
“Yes”, I replied. “And they weren’t here when I drove through the same place this morning. I thought it was quite odd to be honest, to find four of them out here all at once in the middle of the desert, that too at this hour.”
Joe simply nodded in agreement.
“What sort of creature do you think did this Joe?”
“I mean it must have a ravenous appetite to chew every sinew of flesh from the bone, and lick it this clean.” I said, leaning in take another look.
“Do you think it could be the Chupacabra or something similar?” I continued, knowing fully well my question was a bit far-fetched, but I had to still get it off my chest.
Joe finally stood up, switched off his torch, and looked around the vast open desert in quiet contemplation.
“This is in fact the fifth sighting in less than a week, Mike, and all have occurred in close proximity to secure government installations. The one before this was even stranger, and happened near a military base, where an old buddy of mine continues to serve.”
“He told me in that instance, the remains belonged to a dog. There were no signs of flesh or connecting tissue from the nasal region to the abdominal section, while the region spanning from the abdominal cavity to the tail bone was left fully intact. The whole thing was carried out with surgical precision, and drew morbid praise from even the medic back at the base.”
"But how is that even possible? What are you suggesting, Joe?" I asked, surprised by the tone of my own voice and my inability to hide my disappointment upon hearing about it for the first time.
“This is not a hunt for prey, Mike. This is a hunt for attention. Somebody is trying to make a point. And I’d say they are accomplishing their objective.” Joe said.
submitted by Federal_Machine692 to nosleep [link] [comments]
My 3-year-old German shepherd had intuitively figured out the prospect of an upcoming bath when he saw me reach for the towel, and decided to give me a hard time over it.
“I know buddy. I am not happy about it either. But I will make it quick. I promise,” I tried to reason, holding up both hands to reassure him.
‘But it’s not even been a week…’ I could almost imagine him saying those exact words to me when he growled back in protest.
“You’re right...But listen, man. You’re dirty. I can feel your presence from here,” I said, standing ten feet away and pretending to cover my nostrils with my finger.
Buster, of course, didn’t care and continued to defy without hesitation.
I put my hands on my hip and sighed. My glance immediately shifted to a hose attached to a tap outside my quarters.
“Tell you what. I’ll make it worth your while. You don’t mind the jet spray, right? In fact, you even tolerate it sometimes,” I said, pointing to the hose located only a few feet away.
“How about a little cooperation now, and I’ll make you your favorite meal a little later?” I asked him, while reaching out to pick a can of chicken liver from the kitchen.
As I dangled the can in my hand, I could see it slowly chipping away at his resolve, his mind grappling with the pros and cons of my new proposal.
A moment later, Buster barked at me twice and slowly made his way out of the house. He sat by the garden tap, ready to receive his bath.
I took a handful of lotion and began to rub it against his torso to remove all the muck and grime that was sticking to his body. We had been quite busy lately, guarding the base and conducting multiple patrols along the perimeter every day. The rain a few hours ago certainly didn't help matters, with Buster leaping over puddles of water and actively rolling in the mud to escape the desert heat. I had to use a brush to remove the layers of dirt that had caked all over his body.
It’s been a strange week, to say the least. The days were busy but peaceful, while the nights brought scattered, random sounds. Their origins were a mystery, as they appeared not to originate from the base. But I wasn’t too worried about it, not yet anyway.
There is an air base located a couple of hours away from the facility, and it wasn’t unusual for them to conduct sorties at odd hours in the night. I assumed they were probably testing out some new technology.
My colleague Joe thought the same thing as well. But we couldn’t take any chances, and we both had a job to do. So we conducted regular patrols around the base just as a precautionary measure.
But deep down, I felt something nagging at me, like I was being watched by someone or something. I couldn’t exactly put it into words.
For a second, I wondered if Buster too felt the same way when I saw him suddenly lift his head up, listening intently with his ears up in attention.
I quickly turned back to check if there was anybody standing behind me, but I found no one. When I turned around to face him again, I saw him looking up at the night sky, his gaze focused and unwavering.
“What’s it buddy? You see something?” I asked him as I cleared away the foam from his face. Moments went by slowly. And then, just like that, as if nothing had happened, he put his head down and began pawing my leg, urging me to finish his bath. I sighed again and turned on the hose, to wash off all the soap.
He finally looked presentable and I have to admit, his coat glistened beautifully under the moonlight.
Before I could reach for his towel, Buster swiftly moved in to close the gap between us and looked me in the eye dead serious. He then shook his body vigorously, much like a wet dog trying to rid itself of wetness, and trotted off without bothering to look back.
I laughed out loud as I sat there, drenched in water. I knew I should have seen that coming. However, my smile quickly faded, as it also reminded me of Jessica, my ailing wife.
Before another thought could take shape in my mind, I heard a familiar voice blare across the radio.
“Mike, I need you down here. Get to the post quick.”
It was my colleague Joe and I replied back in the affirmative. I quickly grabbed my gear and signaled Buster to follow after me.
When I reached the post, I saw Joe standing there armed with his rifle. As a seasoned war veteran with two tours under his belt, Joe was a dangerous man and not to be trifled with. But he was also compassionate and wise beyond his years.
“What’s up Joe?” I inquired, as I approached him near the entrance of the base.
“I am not sure yet. I thought I heard something at a distance. It could well be nothing.” he replied, after a brief pause.
‘Well, we’ve had a lot of that going around all week’, I thought to myself.
He then turned around to look at me. “I want you to run a perimeter sweep first. Then go on patrol again. Take Buster with you” he said, before heading back to his post.
I started the jeep and drove out towards the perimeter. The engine hummed softly as I navigated the rough terrain, with Buster sitting alertly beside me. After finding nothing suspicious during my initial sweep, I decided to broaden my search radius.
A mile into the drive, Buster suddenly started barking, prompting me to stop the jeep immediately. He leaped onto the ground and dashed towards a boulder located a short distance away. I picked up my rifle and cautiously followed after him.
When I reached the spot, I keyed the mic attached to my shirt and said, "Boss, you need to come see this."
I knew he wasn’t going to be happy about leaving the guard post unmanned, but I thought he would prefer to come and inspect this himself.
Joe arrived ten minutes later, parking his vehicle next to mine. He walked towards the boulder overlooking a small pond, and switched on his torch to get a better look at the skeletal remains of an animal dumped nearby. Three other animal remains lay next to it, all appearing to be in a similar condition.
“These look like coyotes, probably stopping by to drink water from the pond before they were killed,” he observed, his voice expressing concern. “Did you find them like this?”
“Yes”, I replied. “And they weren’t here when I drove through the same place this morning. I thought it was quite odd to be honest, to find four of them out here all at once in the middle of the desert, that too at this hour.”
Joe simply nodded in agreement.
“What sort of creature do you think did this Joe?”
“I mean it must have a ravenous appetite to chew every sinew of flesh from the bone, and lick it this clean.” I said, leaning in take another look.
“Do you think it could be the Chupacabra or something similar?” I continued, knowing fully well my question was a bit far-fetched, but I had to still get it off my chest.
Joe finally stood up, switched off his torch, and looked around the vast open desert in quiet contemplation.
“This is in fact the fifth sighting in less than a week, Mike, and all have occurred in close proximity to secure government installations. The one before this was even stranger, and happened near a military base, where an old buddy of mine continues to serve.”
“He told me in that instance, the remains belonged to a dog. There were no signs of flesh or connecting tissue from the nasal region to the abdominal section, while the region spanning from the abdominal cavity to the tail bone was left fully intact. The whole thing was carried out with surgical precision, and drew morbid praise from even the medic back at the base.”
"But how is that even possible? What are you suggesting, Joe?" I asked, surprised by the tone of my own voice and my inability to hide my disappointment upon hearing about it for the first time.
“This is not a hunt for prey, Mike. This is a hunt for attention. Somebody is trying to make a point. And I’d say they are accomplishing their objective.” Joe said.
2024.05.19 13:02 Akranea [F4M] Longterm Overwatch RP!
Hey Roleplayers and Reddit users!
I've been wanting to do this for a while now and I am looking for people who want to play a character of the game (male only) to pair with me (female only character of the game) for some fun longterm RP. I have several plots prepared and ideas to share depending on what character you'd want to write/write with and I am happy to discuss more details and possible plots.
Heroes I am willing to write for this RP would be:
My preference is Gency, but I am terribly terribly picky about this and made a lot of horrible experiences. This is something I kind of want done right and if I don't see that happening, I am not willing to write this. If you are equally interested in building their relationship from the longterm point of view, I'd like to discuss.
Other than that I'll gladly play :
One of my ideas as example is as follows: Both our characters are on a mission. The two need to work together to gather information, perhaps rescue a fellow agent. It is tense. The alarm is going off, red lights are filling corridors and guards begin to flood the building. They will have to hurry to complete their goal without being caught.
Another idea could be more about the slice of life part, what is happening behind the scenes, maybe even the mental toll these missions and the huge pressure has on the involved people. They could build a proper relationship, work on conquering their fears as well as work on themselves to become better and greater heroes! Naturally, I am in for all the action as well. Let's go beat up some bad (or good) guys!
I am pretty active but I only RP on discord so please keep that in mind. Also, I want to speak out a content warning for mature content. Please send the word hero to me so I know you've read this all in your first message.
I usually write 3 paragraphs as the least amount and would like for my partner to match me.
The following will be a roleplay sample of mine which depicts a semblance of my literacy:
____________________________________________________________________________
Their escape through the ventilation system was not the greatest exit strategic, additionally, it was flawed and their position easily compromised. Amelie had already begun to lead the way towards what she figured was the very edge of the fortress where they'd be able to slither away into the night, but he was certainly not making this any more pleasant with his urgent request to hurry. "I am going as quick as I can, but as you are aware, wet clothes stick to these smooth surfaces perfectly well," and indeed it made it quite difficult to shift along the metal of the shafts. She felt the heat too, though for her the very start was certainly only comforting, drying both their bodies and clothes just a little before they'd soon face the consequences and most likely either burn to charcoal or get some lovely burn marks along their skin. That was what she expected, just until his larger frame pushed and squirmed past her before he could even see the glare she was shooting at him. "What do you think you are doing?" She asked lowly, and watched him repeatedly smack his arrow against the relatively thin wall of the ventilation shaft, that soon bulged and began to give in.
Her attention however was caught by his tattooed arm, which seemed to faintly illuminate the air in bright blue. It was just how the rumors proved. Something about him, about that tattoo he donned on his arm that gave him strength on an unimaginable scale. With great curiosity as she witnessed this did Amelie watch the wall next to them burst open, and him slip outside. No hesitation within her motions she followed, and the both stood shielded from the flames that followed. There was a certain thankfulness within her eyes as she looked upon him, knowing there was no reason for each other to linger. Nodding gently, she bid him a word-less farewell before Amelie too, disappeared into the night.
Months had passed after their run in and the mission report handed to Akande caused him to end up a little displeased over the next few days. He wanted the Shimada to be part of Talon, to have his power under their control and thus, increased the offered amount of money and goods should he ever end up appearing once more. Little did either of them know that the famed spider would soon once more come into the view of the archer.
Brazil, ten in the evening. Music played and echoed through the halls, setting the mood for such a high-class event where drinks were shared, dances were executed and most importantly, deals were made. Amelie attended on behalf of Talon, naturally so as she mostly would serve as informant that very night. As such, her gun was not a piece of her attire tonight.
Amelie stood tall and proud as she always did, and her dress once more proved that she was a confident woman. The black dress vacant of any prints upon it did her body justice. Cutting off high upon her thighs, a slit on the side revealing even more of those long, firm legs, the very front was just as revealing, the V shape cutting a rift between her plump breasts, fitting for a beautiful woman like her while the back was cut deep, revealing that signature spider tattoo on her pale skin that was caressed by the tip of her ponytail.
Her hand was firmly wrapped around a glass of red wine she sipped from while circling the area a little, searching for anyone worth being noted and not quite aware that a familiar archer was in the very same room. She stood with her back towards his direction at first, before she desired to move once more and caught the sight of the archer out of the corner of her eyes. He might have seen her smirk slyly, before she turned away again. Amelie knew when she was the huntress, but she did not approach her prey this time. No, he would need to hunger for a taste of her, and that'd let him approach her while she remained still.
Naturally, her thoughts had wandered to him before, thought back on his warmth he soared her in that locker, and at times she humored the thought of a misses romance, even if she was aware it was foolish and nothing alike her. No, she was the heartless woman that murdered her own husband years back, cold to the touch and emotionless. The perfect weapon that once had a loving heart.
____________________________________________________________________________
If you are interested please message me and let's work something out <3
submitted by Akranea to roleplaying [link] [comments]
I've been wanting to do this for a while now and I am looking for people who want to play a character of the game (male only) to pair with me (female only character of the game) for some fun longterm RP. I have several plots prepared and ideas to share depending on what character you'd want to write/write with and I am happy to discuss more details and possible plots.
Heroes I am willing to write for this RP would be:
My preference is Gency, but I am terribly terribly picky about this and made a lot of horrible experiences. This is something I kind of want done right and if I don't see that happening, I am not willing to write this. If you are equally interested in building their relationship from the longterm point of view, I'd like to discuss.
Other than that I'll gladly play :
- young Ana
- Sombra
- D.va
- Ashe
- Kiriko
- Widow
- Mercy
One of my ideas as example is as follows: Both our characters are on a mission. The two need to work together to gather information, perhaps rescue a fellow agent. It is tense. The alarm is going off, red lights are filling corridors and guards begin to flood the building. They will have to hurry to complete their goal without being caught.
Another idea could be more about the slice of life part, what is happening behind the scenes, maybe even the mental toll these missions and the huge pressure has on the involved people. They could build a proper relationship, work on conquering their fears as well as work on themselves to become better and greater heroes! Naturally, I am in for all the action as well. Let's go beat up some bad (or good) guys!
I am pretty active but I only RP on discord so please keep that in mind. Also, I want to speak out a content warning for mature content. Please send the word hero to me so I know you've read this all in your first message.
I usually write 3 paragraphs as the least amount and would like for my partner to match me.
The following will be a roleplay sample of mine which depicts a semblance of my literacy:
____________________________________________________________________________
Their escape through the ventilation system was not the greatest exit strategic, additionally, it was flawed and their position easily compromised. Amelie had already begun to lead the way towards what she figured was the very edge of the fortress where they'd be able to slither away into the night, but he was certainly not making this any more pleasant with his urgent request to hurry. "I am going as quick as I can, but as you are aware, wet clothes stick to these smooth surfaces perfectly well," and indeed it made it quite difficult to shift along the metal of the shafts. She felt the heat too, though for her the very start was certainly only comforting, drying both their bodies and clothes just a little before they'd soon face the consequences and most likely either burn to charcoal or get some lovely burn marks along their skin. That was what she expected, just until his larger frame pushed and squirmed past her before he could even see the glare she was shooting at him. "What do you think you are doing?" She asked lowly, and watched him repeatedly smack his arrow against the relatively thin wall of the ventilation shaft, that soon bulged and began to give in.
Her attention however was caught by his tattooed arm, which seemed to faintly illuminate the air in bright blue. It was just how the rumors proved. Something about him, about that tattoo he donned on his arm that gave him strength on an unimaginable scale. With great curiosity as she witnessed this did Amelie watch the wall next to them burst open, and him slip outside. No hesitation within her motions she followed, and the both stood shielded from the flames that followed. There was a certain thankfulness within her eyes as she looked upon him, knowing there was no reason for each other to linger. Nodding gently, she bid him a word-less farewell before Amelie too, disappeared into the night.
Months had passed after their run in and the mission report handed to Akande caused him to end up a little displeased over the next few days. He wanted the Shimada to be part of Talon, to have his power under their control and thus, increased the offered amount of money and goods should he ever end up appearing once more. Little did either of them know that the famed spider would soon once more come into the view of the archer.
Brazil, ten in the evening. Music played and echoed through the halls, setting the mood for such a high-class event where drinks were shared, dances were executed and most importantly, deals were made. Amelie attended on behalf of Talon, naturally so as she mostly would serve as informant that very night. As such, her gun was not a piece of her attire tonight.
Amelie stood tall and proud as she always did, and her dress once more proved that she was a confident woman. The black dress vacant of any prints upon it did her body justice. Cutting off high upon her thighs, a slit on the side revealing even more of those long, firm legs, the very front was just as revealing, the V shape cutting a rift between her plump breasts, fitting for a beautiful woman like her while the back was cut deep, revealing that signature spider tattoo on her pale skin that was caressed by the tip of her ponytail.
Her hand was firmly wrapped around a glass of red wine she sipped from while circling the area a little, searching for anyone worth being noted and not quite aware that a familiar archer was in the very same room. She stood with her back towards his direction at first, before she desired to move once more and caught the sight of the archer out of the corner of her eyes. He might have seen her smirk slyly, before she turned away again. Amelie knew when she was the huntress, but she did not approach her prey this time. No, he would need to hunger for a taste of her, and that'd let him approach her while she remained still.
Naturally, her thoughts had wandered to him before, thought back on his warmth he soared her in that locker, and at times she humored the thought of a misses romance, even if she was aware it was foolish and nothing alike her. No, she was the heartless woman that murdered her own husband years back, cold to the touch and emotionless. The perfect weapon that once had a loving heart.
____________________________________________________________________________
If you are interested please message me and let's work something out <3
2024.05.19 12:48 proctactinium Lump back throat
Hi female 23 years old here! has anyone already had this kind of lump in the back of the throat behind the uvula? I had a tonsillectomy when I was a kid so I have no tonsils. I also have a sore throat and pain when I swallow!
I have a lot of other issues my doctor sent me to a rheumatologist because I have petechiae appearing anywhere on my body (under my eyes, in my mouth, back, arms, belly, legs…) as well as nausea sometimes vomiting and a lot of burping (feeling like air is blocked in my throat). Also I have some kind of hot flushes where I have the impression that my forehead, back and neck skin are burning and feel like I have fever but my temperature is normal (max 37,5°C)… I also am extremely tired, never feel rested and need to take a nap during the day even if I slept 10 hours. My doctor tested for vasculitis but it’s negative. I also had an endoscopy in my stomach everything is normal. I had anemia but got ferritin injection so now it should be normal but I have to go get it retested. If anyone has experienced something like this or if you have any idea of what it could be it would be great.
submitted by proctactinium to AskDocs [link] [comments]
I have a lot of other issues my doctor sent me to a rheumatologist because I have petechiae appearing anywhere on my body (under my eyes, in my mouth, back, arms, belly, legs…) as well as nausea sometimes vomiting and a lot of burping (feeling like air is blocked in my throat). Also I have some kind of hot flushes where I have the impression that my forehead, back and neck skin are burning and feel like I have fever but my temperature is normal (max 37,5°C)… I also am extremely tired, never feel rested and need to take a nap during the day even if I slept 10 hours. My doctor tested for vasculitis but it’s negative. I also had an endoscopy in my stomach everything is normal. I had anemia but got ferritin injection so now it should be normal but I have to go get it retested. If anyone has experienced something like this or if you have any idea of what it could be it would be great.
2024.05.19 12:37 ConsequenceSure3063 Best Carpe Deodorant
 | submitted by ConsequenceSure3063 to u/ConsequenceSure3063 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/57zkc7qt2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f13c9d8f3babda357b5b4f9211733f9256fd2eea Sweat no more with Carpe Deodorant, a collection of innovative and effective products designed to keep you fresh all day long. In this roundup, we've compiled the best and most popular options from Carpe, offering you an array of deodorants that cater to various needs and preferences. Whether you're looking for a natural formula, a clinical strength solution, or something in between, find the perfect fit for you as we explore the top-rated deodorants from Carpe. Say goodbye to unpleasant odors and hello to confidence with our carefully curated selection of Carpe Deodorants. The Top 18 Best Carpe Deodorant
Reviews🔗Kopari Brightening Aluminum-Free Deodorant for Odor Controlhttps://preview.redd.it/mn8ls5hu2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0b56b3cff06ff1fcdae114a1f12c7e88dedff194 In my journey to discover the best deodorant, Kopari's Brightening Aluminum-Free Roll On Deodorant caught my eye. I'm happy to report that this deodorant has been a game changer for me. First off, I must say that the fresh melon scent truly transports me to a tropical paradise. It's subtle and not overpowering, which I greatly appreciate. Applying this roll-on is super convenient and mess-free. One thing that sets this deodorant apart is its unique combination of plant-based actives. These ingredients help provide long-lasting odor protection while simultaneously working to brighten the appearance of my underarms. I didn't experience any serious irritation during the transition, which can be common with natural deodorants. However, there are a few minor issues that are worth mentioning. 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I applied it every night before bed for the recommended four weeks, and I must say, it made a noticeable difference. One standout feature of Carpe is its non-irritating nature. Unlike some other antiperspirants I've tried, it did not cause any unpleasant sensations or redness on my skin. The lotion also dries quickly, making it easy to apply throughout the day without leaving any residue on my hands or feet. However, I did experience one minor issue with the foot lotion. When I applied it in the morning right after my shower, it remained sticky for a while, making it a bit uncomfortable to wear shoes. Nonetheless, I found that applying it at night before bed and sleeping in socks worked much better, ensuring that my feet were dry and comfortable come morning. In summary, while there may be some room for improvement with the foot lotion, overall, Carpe Antiperspirant Hand and Foot Lotion has been a game-changer for me. Its gentle yet effective formula has helped control my excessive sweating and boosted my confidence in both social and professional situations. For anyone else dealing with this issue, I would highly recommend giving Carpe a try – it might just change your life too! 🔗Underarm Exfoliation and Odor Control Scrubhttps://preview.redd.it/ad4hew6v2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a8761b2c0acea6be9373242944b589374055e4c6 I recently discovered Carpe Exfoliating Underarm Wash, and it has quickly become a staple in my shower routine. This gentle scrub effectively cleanses and exfoliates my underarms, leaving them feeling refreshed and ready for the day. The natural oils and witch hazel in the formula help to nourish and soothe my skin, while the exfoliating beads work to remove dead skin cells and unclog pores. One of the standout features of Carpe Exfoliating Underarm Wash is its ability to reduce odor and improve the performance of my deodorant. I've noticed that even on days when I forget to apply deodorant, my underarms stay fresh and smell great. The energizing minty scent adds an extra layer of freshness, although some users may prefer a more floral or sweet fragrance. However, some users have reported experiencing mild skin irritation after using the product, so it's essential to perform a patch test before applying it all over your underarms. Overall, I would highly recommend Carpe Exfoliating Underarm Wash to anyone looking for a gentle and effective way to maintain fresh and odor-free underarms. 🔗On-The-Go Sweat-Fighting Wipeshttps://preview.redd.it/zj2lfgiv2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3a23502175e125b27d4b5fe23cef52f352207ef1 Carpe's On-The-Go Antiperspirant Underarm Wipes have been a game-changer in my daily life, making the fight against sweat so much easier and more manageable. From the convenience of having individually wrapped wipes that are easy to slip into my purse or pocket to the impressive effectiveness of keeping me dry all day long, these wipes have made a significant difference in how I feel and function on a daily basis. The 7x9" wipes are not only large enough to comfortably cover the entire underarm area, but they're also incredibly versatile, allowing me to use them on wet, damp, or dry skin with equal ease. The no-residue formula is gentle on the skin, while still providing me with the powerful, refreshing sweat relief I've been looking for. What sets these wipes apart from other antiperspirants on the market is their ability to be used throughout the day when I'm already sweaty and on-the-move. This has been particularly beneficial during long workdays and during travels, where keeping fresh and dry can often seem like an impossible task. Of course, no product is perfect, and some users may experience a slight inconvenience with the product transferring to your hands during application. However, this issue can easily be resolved with a quick wash afterward. Overall, Carpe's On-The-Go Antiperspirant Underarm Wipes have truly been a life saver for me, providing me with the reliable sweat relief and freshness I've been searching for. I highly recommend giving these wipes a try, especially considering the convenient single-use packaging and the affordability of subscribing to a regular supply. 🔗Clinically Proven Antiperspirant Foot Lotion - Plantar Hyperhidrosis Treatmenthttps://preview.redd.it/rfu50vwv2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d38c0f335ff8911be832629e8e5e5b401d170264 Carpe Antiperspirant Foot Lotion has become a game-changer in my daily life. As someone who suffers from excessive foot sweat and odor, I was always on the hunt for a solution that would help me regain my confidence. This lotion has been a lifesaver, giving me fresh, dry feet and keeping odor at bay. The first thing that stood out to me about this product was its smooth, non-greasy texture. Unlike other foot creams I've tried, Carpe doesn't leave a sticky or oily residue on my skin, which is especially important when I'm wearing shoes. The lotion applies easily and dries quickly, making it perfect for busy mornings when I don't have time to wait around for my products to absorb. Another highlight of Carpe is its natural eucalyptus oil and moisturizing ingredients. While the lotion effectively tackles my sweat problem, it also soothes and hydrates my skin, leaving it feeling soft and smooth. The gentle scent of eucalyptus is a welcome addition, providing a refreshing aroma that lingers throughout the day. However, there are a few cons to consider with this product. Firstly, the small tube size may be a concern for some users, especially given the relatively high price point. Additionally, I've noticed that the lotion can leave some residue on socks, which may be unpleasant for some people. Despite these minor drawbacks, I am extremely satisfied with the results I've seen using Carpe Antiperspirant Foot Lotion. It has greatly improved the quality of my life by eliminating embarrassing sweat and odor issues, and I would highly recommend it to anyone struggling with similar concerns. 🔗Carpe Antiperspirant Hand Lotion for Hyperhidrosis (Warm Vanilla)https://preview.redd.it/2oleun8w2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f91eefb9e7990ca68bbc4e12b33e0df439e3d623 Carpe Antiperspirant Hand Lotion has been a game-changer in my daily life. As someone who suffers from hyperhidrosis, I was initially skeptical about its claims to help control hand sweat and make life more comfortable. However, after trying it out for myself, I can confidently say that it works wonders! The first thing that stood out to me was how quickly the lotion dries on my hands. Unlike other moisturizers that leave a sticky residue, Carpe absorbs quickly and leaves no trace of greasiness behind. Its gentle formula is perfect for those with sensitive skin, as it's paraben-free and cruelty-free. One major con is the lingering scent of mint, which might not be everyone's cup of tea. While it's not overpowering, it could be off-putting for some users. Another downside is that the product doesn't seem to have a significant moisturizing effect. So, if you're looking for something that also hydrates your skin, this might not be the best choice. Overall, Carpe Antiperspirant Hand Lotion has made a noticeable difference in my day-to-day life, helping me control my excessive hand sweat and feel more confident in social situations. Its speedy drying time, gentle formula, and effectiveness make it a worthwhile investment for anyone struggling with hyperhidrosis. Just keep in mind that it may not suit everyone's preferences due to its scent and lack of moisturizing properties. 🔗Fast-Absorbing Anti-Chafing Thigh Lotion for Sweat Reductionhttps://preview.redd.it/lbvt5low2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4b0c286bf4f5185c097721ee115492cb61aac168 Carpe Thigh Lotion has been my daily companion since I started using it a few weeks ago. The lotion is so lightweight and non-greasy that I feel like I'm not wearing anything on my thighs at all. Its natural ingredients, especially aloe vera, shea butter, and vitamin E, make my skin feel soothed and moisturized all day long. One of the things that I really appreciate about this product is its pleasant, light scent. Unlike other lotions or deodorants I've tried, Carpe Thigh Lotion doesn't have a strong or overpowering smell, which is perfect for those who are sensitive to strong fragrances. On the downside, I did notice a white residue left behind after application, but it was easy to wash off my hands and didn't leave any stains on my clothes. Another issue for me was the relatively small product size. Given how frequently I apply the lotion, especially during hot summer days, I find myself running out of it quite quickly. In summary, I'm very happy with the performance of Carpe Thigh Lotion. Its lightweight formula, natural ingredients, and pleasing scent make it an excellent choice for anyone looking to reduce chafing and dryness on their thighs, especially those who spend a lot of time outdoors or engage in physical activities. I would recommend this product to anyone in search of a reliable and effective solution for preventing chafing and keeping their skin smooth and comfortable all day long. 🔗Sweat and Odor-Reducing Groin Powder for Menhttps://preview.redd.it/6eqwc11x2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bd4cc127bf56031dde48e1eb9e4801dcddd82859 I recently tried Carpe Sweat Absorbing Groin Powder and I have to say, it's a game-changer! This product has made my daily life so much more comfortable. It's not just about keeping the sweat at bay; it's about preventing that dreaded chafing that can occur when you're on your feet all day. The standout feature for me was the quick absorption time. As soon as I applied it, it disappeared into my skin, leaving no trace of residue or visible white powder. I also appreciated how dermatologist-tested and hypoallergenic it is, making it perfect for sensitive skin like mine. However, there's one thing that could be improved upon. While the powder does an excellent job of reducing sweat, I found that the effect doesn't last quite as long as I'd like. So, if you're planning on being active for a long period, you may need to reapply. All in all, I highly recommend Carpe Sweat Absorbing Groin Powder for men looking for a reliable solution to stay dry and comfortable all day long. It might not be perfect, but its benefits far outweigh any drawbacks. Give it a try and see for yourself! 🔗Carpe Clinical Grade Underarm Wipes - Effective Sweat Management Night Wipeshttps://preview.redd.it/tz560yix2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d5616f46fb22216688de46c1d3cd0a714a7b83f7 I recently incorporated the Carpe Underarm Wipes into my nightly routine and it's been a total game-changer for me. I've struggled with excessive underarm sweating for years and it's finally under control now. After using these every other night along with their exfoliating product and antiperspirant, my underarms stay bone-dry for days. These lavender-scented wipes are such a convenient part of my nightly routine - just rub one on your underarms before bedtime and go to sleep. When you wake up, you'll be pleasantly surprised at how dry and odor-free your underarms remain. One feature that really stands out is their gentle formula that doesn't cause any itching or irritation, unlike some other antiperspirants. Plus, they're incredibly easy to use and don't require any daily application – just remember to use them every other night. However, there is one downside to consider: the thickness of the wipes. While they effectively combat underarm sweating, I wish they were a bit thicker so they lasted longer. Despite this minor inconvenience, I'm absolutely thrilled with the results I've experienced since incorporating Carpe Underarm Wipes into my routine. 🔗Carpe Underarm Antiperspirant and Deodorant Pack of 3 with Free On-the-Go Wipeshttps://preview.redd.it/l686m1ox2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=206905e79d34921a52b64ba15c80b90e2c2e7431 As someone who struggles with excessive sweating, I was excited to give Carpe Underarm Antiperspirant a try. I was blown away by its ability to effectively manage my hyperhidrosis symptoms. The soft-foam applicator is gentle on my skin and the natural eucalyptus scent keeps me feeling fresh throughout the day. This unobtrusive deodorant doesn't make me feel like I'm wearing a cloud of fragrance, which I appreciate. A definite pro is the inclusion of free on-the-go wipes, perfect for a quick freshen up on those particularly sweaty days. The only downside? It might not last as long as other brands, but it's a small price to pay for relief from excessive sweating. Carpe Underarm Antiperspirant is truly a game-changer for those looking to manage their hyperhidrosis symptoms. Its gentle formula and subtle scent make it a joy to use, while the free on-the-go wipes are an added bonus. However, you may find that you need to apply it more frequently than some other brands. Overall, I highly recommend Carpe Deodorant for anyone in need of effective antiperspirant protection. 🔗Advanced Antiperspirant for Excessive Sweating - Carpe Fresh Powder Scenthttps://preview.redd.it/03hyg62y2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e8ce785b5848ef957aae30373c9bce39cd2bd62a As a product review writer, I must say that the Carpe Underarm Antiperspirant has been a real game-changer for me. It's hard to remember life without it. Before discovering this amazing product, I had tried countless deodorants, only to be left with sweat-stained clothes and a lingering embarrassment. But Carpe changed all that. One feature that really stands out is its long-lasting protection against sweat and odor. Whether I'm at the gym or walking around town on a hot summer day, I can trust that my underarms won't betray me. Another highlight worth mentioning is how gentle it is on my skin. Unlike other antiperspirants that leave me feeling irritated, this one leaves my skin feeling soft and comfortable. However, there are some downsides. For instance, the applicator can be a bit tricky to use at first. It took me a few tries to get the hang of it, but once I did, applying the cream became second nature. Additionally, while the scent is quite pleasant, it can be a little overpowering for some people. Overall, I highly recommend Carpe Underarm Antiperspirant to anyone looking for an effective solution to excessive sweating. It's a well-researched and dermatologist-tested product that truly delivers on its promises. Give it a try - your sweaty days might just be over! 🔗Dermatologist-Recommended Hand Lotion for Sweaty Handshttps://preview.redd.it/kdwzs2ly2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=92b81235d76cfedf156a749e55fee70b60a08374 I've been using Carpe Antiperspirant Hand Lotion for a few weeks now, and I have to say, it's been a game-changer for me. As someone who struggles with excessively sweaty hands, I can attest to the effectiveness of this product. This smooth, quick-drying lotion has managed to keep my hands dry and comfortable from morning till night. One of the things that stands out about Carpe is its unique formula. Unlike other antiperspirants that can be harsh on the skin, Carpe is not only dermatologist-recommended, but it's also paraben-free and cruelty-free. This means that not only does it work effectively to control sweating, but it also takes care of your skin in the process. On the flip side, I find that applying Carpe can leave a slightly greasy residue on my hands, which can take a few minutes to absorb completely. While this is a minor inconvenience, the benefits of using Carpe certainly outweigh this small con. In conclusion, if you're looking for a reliable solution to excessive hand sweat, I'd highly recommend giving Carpe Antiperspirant Hand Lotion a try. Its gentle, skin-friendly formula and impressive performance make it a top pick for me. 🔗Carpe Antiperspirant Foot Lotion - 1.35 fl ozhttps://preview.redd.it/1ayp4cry2d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c373fbfad644b3087a812628b91e967878d78229 As a reviewer who's had the chance to use Carpe Antiperspirant Foot Lotion, I couldn't be happier with the results. Before trying this product, I struggled daily with sweaty feet, and it impacted not only my comfort but also my self-confidence. However, Carpe has completely transformed my experience. Not only does it offer protection against blisters, but it also ensures my feet remain fresh all day long, thanks to its essential ingredient enriched formula. Its gentle, paraben-free composition on my skin is another stand-out feature. While this lotion has worked wonders for me, it's worth mentioning that it does leave a somewhat funny film on your feet and can be more expensive than other products. However, if you're tired of trying everything and nothing seems to work, Carpe Antiperspirant Foot Lotion is definitely worth the investment. It's a product I will gladly continue using and recommend to others. Buyer's GuideApply your Carpe Deodorant generously and evenly to clean, dry armpits. Allow it to dry completely before dressing to prevent any potential staining. For optimal results, apply after showering and try not to apply too much, as this may lead to decreased effectiveness. Finally, note that while some consumers report immediate results, others may need to use the product consistently for a few days or weeks to see the desired outcome. https://preview.redd.it/xfgunhj13d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2390a31d3f4f83a71359a0ca99bf4ca84180b91b FAQWhat is Carpe Deodorant?Carpe Deodorant is a brand specializing in clinical-strength deodorants designed for sensitive skin and those seeking effective odor protection. Their products are made with high-quality ingredients and are suitable for both men and women. https://preview.redd.it/kajxv8323d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=77ecbbe59705b8499981b0d215473d38280d788e How does Carpe Deodorant work?Carpe Deodorant uses advanced odor-neutralizing technology to provide long-lasting protection against body odor. Its formula contains potent active ingredients that target and eliminate odor-causing bacteria while soothing and moisturizing the skin.What types of Carpe Deodorants are available?Carpe offers a variety of deodorants tailored to specific needs, such as * Original Scent
https://preview.redd.it/jxw6zdd23d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cb420325db1bdd884068b4bdc4488cae7f03ce5c Is Carpe Deodorant suitable for sensitive skin?Yes, Carpe Deodorant is formulated with skin-friendly ingredients and is suitable for those with sensitive skin. In fact, it is designed to provide clinical-strength protection while soothing and moisturizing the skin, making it an ideal choice for individuals with sensitive skin.How often should I apply Carpe Deodorant?For optimal results, it is recommended to apply Carpe Deodorant once in the morning after showering. However, if you are particularly active or have a more demanding lifestyle, feel free to reapply as needed to maintain protection throughout the day. https://preview.redd.it/eg5puex23d1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=eb3e8ecb02514a4a9cd66ca691a776377879a57a Does Carpe Deodorant leave stains on clothing?No, Carpe Deodorant has a lightweight, clear formula that is less likely to cause staining on clothes. However, it is still a good practice to wait a few minutes after applying before dressing to allow the product to fully absorb into the skin.Are Carpe Deodorants allergen-free?Carpe Deodorants are made with high-quality, allergen-free ingredients. However, as with any skincare product, it is always a good idea to perform a patch test on a small area of your skin before using it regularly.Where can I buy Carpe Deodorant?Carpe Deodorant can be purchased directly from the brand's website or through various online retailers. Some brick-and-mortar stores also carry Carpe products, so it's worth checking with your local stores to see if they stock the brand.How long does a tube of Carpe Deodorant last?The longevity of a tube of Carpe Deodorant depends on individual usage patterns. On average, one tube should last for about 6-8 weeks when applied as directed.What is Carpe's return policy?Carpe offers a 100% satisfaction guarantee, allowing customers to return their products within 30 days of purchase if they are not completely satisfied. Simply contact their customer service team for assistance with the return process.As an Amazon™ Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. |
2024.05.19 12:32 ladybuglvrr Truth or Dare
As the last rays of summer sun faded into dusk, I stood at the threshold of a new chapter, my heart racing with anticipation and a touch of apprehension, as I prepared to embark on my first day as a senior in high school. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the crispness of autumn in the air, signaling the end of carefree days and the beginning of a journey filled with new challenges and opportunities. With my backpack slung over my shoulder and butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I took a deep breath, ready to step into the halls of academia, where friendships would deepen, memories would be made, and the path to my future would unfold before me. As I walked down the main hallway to my first period class, a girl I had never seen before bumped into me, as she was walking hurriedly down towards the cafe. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, as she bent down to pick up one of my binders. “Watch where you’re going, good God.” I huffed back. “Geez… it was an acc-“ I cut her off- “You look familiar… have I met you somewhere before?” “Umm. I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” she replied back, annoyed. “Whatever, asshole.” I sighed. “Excuse me?” She said, raising an eyebrow.” I could’ve sworn I had seen her somewhere before… maybe I was losing it. “Look, this is going to sound really, really weird, but in the near further, you’re going to be asked to play a game. You HAVE to say no, or really bad things are going to happen…” I took a step back, looking the girl up and down. “You sound schizophrenic. I’m going to class.” I said, turning back towards my classroom door. As I turned to walk away, her words echoed in my mind, a strange sense of foreboding creeping over me. But dismissing it as nonsense, I pushed through the classroom door, eager to start the day and put the strange encounter behind me. The day passed in a blur of introductions, syllabi, and catching up with friends. Yet, despite my attempts to shake off the odd encounter, the girl's warning lingered in the back of my thoughts like an unsettling whisper. As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I found myself retracing my steps through the bustling halls. Glancing around, I caught sight of the mysterious girl disappearing into a throng of students.Curiosity gnawed at me, and against my better judgment, I followed her, weaving through the crowd until I spotted her slipping into a secluded corner of the school courtyard. Approaching cautiously, I cleared my throat, "Hey, um, sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to come off as rude." She turned to face me, her expression guarded yet somehow relieved. "It's fine," she said, her tone softening. "I understand. It's not easy to believe something so... unbelievable." I frowned, puzzled by her cryptic words. "What do you mean?" Taking a deep breath, she met my gaze squarely. "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to listen to me. That game I mentioned earlier—it's real. And it's dangerous. People are disappearing, and I think... I think you're next." My heart skipped a beat as her words sank in, sending a chill down my spine. "What do you mean I'm next?" “I have to go. It’s Friday, I need to go pick up my little brother from school. We can talk on Monday… just, trust me.” She said, rushing towards the parking lot. As the days passed, I found myself haunted by the girl's warning, the memory of her urgent plea lingering like a ghost in the back of my mind. But try as I might to push it aside, the sense of impending doom only grew stronger with each passing moment, a shadow looming ever larger over my once-ordinary life. Sunday morning rolled around, and I was still as anxious as ever, when suddenly an option appeared in front of me. “Would you like to play Truth or Dare?” It read. I sat there for a second, absolutely dumbfounded, thinking I had completely lost it. The two options, lingering in front of me. If I were to complete all of the dares and truths, I would win.. whole million dollars!? “The dares couldn’t be that bad, especially for a million dollars, right?” I thought to myself, hovering the “yes” option. As the option appeared over her head, my heart pounded in my chest, a sickening sense of dread settling over me like a suffocating blanket. But as the stakes grew higher and the dares more dangerous, I found myself unable to resist the lure of the prize dangling just out of reach. One by one, I completed each dare. Confessing my love to my crush, licking a toilet bowl, chugging a bottle of vinegar… everything seemed, moderately alright.. the thrill of the challenge mingling with the gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of my mind. But as the night wore on and the dares grew increasingly sinister, I began to realize the true cost of my greed. Although, I had more important things on my mind. Friday once again rolled around, and the most popular guy in our school, Jackson, had invented me to his house party. This was absolutely a dream come true, but, how was I supposed to tell my mother I was going to a random frat boys party? As 6:00pm rolled around, I grabbed my keys and told my mother I was going to a movie with my friends. As she was about to reply, a new option for Truth or Dare showed, stating, “tell your mother where you’re really going.” At this point, I knew I was screwed. “Are you sure?” My mother asked. “Actually, I was invited to a party by Jackson, the new football teams quarter back.” I said, shuffling my feet. “Do you think I’m crazy? Absolutely not, you are staying home tonight!” My mother shouted back. Maybe it was for the better, after all, mother knows best, right? As 8:00 rolled around, I was sitting on my bed reading, as a new dare showed. “Sneak out and go to the party.” It read. “Well… shit. I’m screwed either way, at this rate.” I muttered, taking the screen off of my window. I grabbed my keys from my desk, and climbed out into the fresh, cold air. I made it to the party about 15 minutes later. As I took my boots off, and walked through the front door, I noticed my friend Samantha sitting next to Jackson with a group of others, drinking out of shiny, red cups. Jackson came up to greet me, handing me a strange smelling concoction. “Here, I’m sure you’ll like this!” Jackson said, cheerfully. “I’m sorry.. I’m not much of a drinker. It’s not good for you.” I stated, slightly uncomfortable. “Oh come on… look, everyone’s drinking! This is my special, everyone loves this. It has extra lime in it!” He yelled back, trying to make himself heard over the loud music playing from a speaker in the kitchen. “Alright… just a few sips, I guess.” I said, shyly taking the cup from his hand. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, it was quite citrusy, and I love sour things. As the night went on, I continued to drink the mysterious beverages from Jackson. All seemed fine, until around 11:45pm. In a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, it happened. Someone spiked my drink, sending me spiraling into darkness as my world shattered into a million jagged pieces. When I awoke, disoriented and groggy, I found myself trapped in a nightmare of my own making. Bound to a small wooden chair, surrounded by four other girls, each one bearing the same haunted expression of terror etched into their pale faces. As the reality of our situation sunk in, a cold wave of despair washed over me, the harsh truth of my actions crashing down around me like a tidal wave. And as I stared into the darkness, the option still hanging over my head like a cruel taunt, I knew that the game was far from over. But as the hours stretched into days, and the terror of our captivity threatened to consume us whole, I clung to the fragile hope that somehow, someway, we would find a way to escape the nightmare that had become our reality. The only times we had seen the light of day, was when Jackson brought food and water down to us. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, we fought tooth and nail against the forces that sought to break us, forging bonds of strength and resilience that would carry us through the darkest of nights. And though the scars of our ordeal would never fully heal, we emerged from the depths of hell stronger than we ever thought possible, united in our determination to reclaim our lives and rewrite our own destinies. As the days stretched on in our captivity, each one blurring into the next in a haze of fear and uncertainty, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon in the most unexpected way. One day, as I sat huddled in the darkness, my mind drifting back to the events that had led me to this nightmare, a strange option materialized before my eyes, shimmering like a mirage in the desert of my despair. "Lifeline, Time travel: Go back to the first day of school," it read, its words pulsating with an otherworldly glow that seemed to beckon me closer. For a moment, I hesitated, the weight of my past mistakes bearing down on me like a crushing weight. But as I stared into the depths of the option before me, a flicker of determination ignited within me, burning bright against the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. With a trembling hand, I reached out and pressed the option, the world around me fading into a swirling vortex of light and color as time itself seemed to bend and warp around me. Within in the blink of an eye, I found myself standing once again at the threshold of a new chapter, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school washing over me like a balm for my weary soul. “Wait a minute” I thought to myself. “Isn’t it that in all of those time travel movies, doesn’t your past self seeing your future self create some sort of paradox? Or singularity? Or the end of life as we know it…?” I knew then I had to disguise myself before approaching my past self. As I put on glasses, and changed my clothes in the locker room, I scurried around trying to find some sort of hat. “Ugh, finally!” I exclaimed, grabbing a beanie that was left is someone’s open locker. “I have to go find myself.” I said, bolting out of the locker room door. As I ran through the halls, I had accidentally bumped into a girl, walking the opposite direction of me. As I apologized profusely, bending over to hand her one of her purple binders, she looked at me puzzled. “Wait a minute, have I met you before?” My heart sank. “Umm. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” “Whatever, asshole.” She muttered under her breath.
submitted by ladybuglvrr to FictionWriting [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 12:31 Enough-Ad9887 My symptoms
Hi! Does anyone get similar symptoms?
submitted by Enough-Ad9887 to Occipitalneuralgia [link] [comments]
- burning and other nerve pains in the whole occipital area, it’s worst at the back but can extend behind my ears, all over my scalp to the forehead. Sometimes it hurts most behind my ears, sometimes even temples.
- squeezing feeling like my scalp is super tight, like it’s being tightened all the time, trying to relax deliberately is pointless because it tightens by itself right back up, I can see and feel it move, with this comes pins and needles feeling. Sometimes the squeezing is even in my face (nose, eyelids) or throat but less often (I know it’s different nerves)
- my trapezius and occipitals are super tight but most recently also scms and shoulders started bothering me, can’t relax any of the muscles even though I keep trying to release the knots, pressing the knots causes referred pain so it feels like tension is the cause of my symptoms but no way of relaxing them; basically it feels like everything from the armpits back and front is affected, tight, burning
- head pressure, hate this, it also moves like the pain
- when in a bad flare I also feel like I am a bit off balance, feel like somebody is pulling me but it’s just a sensation (no actual movement of these muscles or maybe something subtle not visible to the naked eye)
- burning and tingling goes down my neck, shoulders and even arms, but is worst at the back of my head
- sometimes I feel like it burns deep inside my head and neck, not just skin
- I can sleep well but the moment I wake up it’s back
- being upright makes it all flare up (especially the pressure and pulling sensations) I am better lying down
2024.05.19 11:46 PEPSIPANDORALUNA BOTCHED FILLERS & HYALURONIDASE DAMAGE
It has taken me more than 8 years to finally feel comfortable and confident to post a review about Gavin Chan. In 2015 I went to the Victorian Cosmetic Institute & was talked into having 4mls of filler injected into my cheeks & nasolabial folds to lift my cheeks by self appointed “cosmetic medicine specialist” Dr Somaiye Kadivar. I was told that the filler was temporary & would last anywhere between 12-18 months.
Once the procedure was over I looked in the mirror & noticed one cheek was higher while the other cheek was lower & further out from my nose. My nasolabial folds were arched, crooked, unnatural & everytime I smiled my cheeks would pop out like golf balls. I hated the results because the filler added volume instead of a lift like I was led to believe.
Just the thought of what I would have looked like if I had gone ahead with the 12 month "alternative treatment plan" devised by the “cosmetic medicine specialist" Dr Somaiye Kadivar who recommended 12mls of filler costing me over $9,000 and 60 units of Botox every 3 months for $720 per treatment gives me nightmares.
Soon after I contacted the owner of the Victorian Cosmetic Institute Gavin Chan and complained about the botched filler. He assured me it was easily & instantly reversible by injecting Hyaluronidase which is used off label to dissolve fillers. After several attempts over the coming days & weeks it was quite obvious that the filler was still present.
On one occasion Gavin Chan dissolved my tear troughs via the cheeks yet I never had filler in my tear troughs to begin with. On another occasion while injecting Hyaluronidase he also started to inject filler into my temple without prior warning. When I asked him why he was injecting my temple he told me he was compensating me for my troubles yet never mentioned that the temple is a danger zone & a risky area to inject.
In total I had 6mls of filler injected into my face within 19 days, yet on the Victorian Cosmetic Institute's website it states that 1ml of filler is enough for the entire face. On each occasion Gavin Chan never informed me of the risks, dangers & complications associated with Hyaluronidase & never gave me a consent form to read and sign.
A few years later I had a consultation with Professor Mark Ashton who is an expert in filler complications & he told me that if the filler hadn't dissolved by now then it was permanent. He gave me a referral for an MRI of the head which detects the exact amount of filler & the exact location of the filler. The MRI report stated that I still had upto 4mls of filler in my face even after all the dissolving sessions from many years ago.
On Dec 3rd 2018 I showed Gavin Chan my MRI results who had no idea at the time that MRI scans can detect fillers. His recommendation was more dissolving but in a larger dose so he flooded my face with Hyaluronidase yet never recorded the amount in my clinical notes. When I went back for a follow up consultation on Dec 10th 2018 he contacted radiologist Mobin Master in my presence who also appeared not to be aware at the time that MRI’s can detect filler but suggested I get another MRI anyway.
Not long after, Gavin Chan contacted me via email thanking me for bringing the MRI information to his attention instead of thanking Professor Mark Ashton who he had previously corresponded with via email regarding my MRI results. For some unknown reason it did not occur to Gavin Chan that Professor Mark Ashton deserved all the credit for having known all along that MRI’s can detect dermal filler.
Instead Gavin Chan chose to capitalise on this information by making a YouTube video claiming he had made this discovery after doing quite a few MRI's (not sure how this is possible as he is not a radiologist). He also stated in his email that he wanted to inject a very high dose of Hyaluronidase to try and dissolve the filler again for the 5th time.
In the meantime I noticed that my facial structure had collapsed, I developed deep hollows under my eyes, my cheeks caved in, my marionette lines were deep, long & dragged down. The corners of my lips sunk into my mouth & my skin was extremely loose, saggy & stretchy all the way down to my neck.
Hyaluronidase did not dissolve my fillers but instead permanently dissolved my connective tissue as it can't distinguish between the skin's own HA & the HA in dermal fillers. Hyaluronidase has aged my facial features by 10 years & only a full facelift & necklift can fix this.
In 2019 & 2020 I took Gavin Chan to VCAT, a small claims court requesting a refund & a corrective advertising order because his website falsely advertised that the temporary fillers they use last anywhere between 12-18 months. Gavin Chan was granted lawyers on the grounds that his business reputation was at stake while I had to represent myself.
I cross examined him with over 90 questions & I presented over 100 pages of supporting evidence & documentation while he only had photos & amended clinical notes. Mobin Master was also present in court supporting Gavin Chan. The hearing was held over 2 days & my claims were eventually dismissed by the judge.
Gavin Chan who “specialises” in cosmetic procedures got away with not providing a patch test for Hyaluronidase and not providing a consent form for Hyaluronidase on each occasion amongst other things.
Mobin Master who began posting the first MRI images on his Instagram account 1 week after the first VCAT hearing in Nov 2019 now identifies as an “aesthetic radiologist” and a “world pioneer” in filler longevity.
Gavin Chan, the self appointed “doctor trainer” for various dermal fillers and anti-wrinkle injections and “cosmetic surgeon” as he once claimed to be isn’t even a GP, he is just a medical practitioner with no other formal training. His only qualification is a Bachelor of Medicine/Bachelor of Surgery with a “background in intensive care, anaesthesia and emergency medicine.
Gavin Chan who medically reviews his own articles has provided cosmetic procedures such as anti-wrinkle injections, dermal fillers, liposuction, facial fat transfers, skin needling and laser treatments since 2004 and has held advanced one-on-one injector training workshops for dermal fillers yet has no certificates or credentials listed on his Victorian Cosmetic Institute’s website.
In my opinion Gavin Chan has a special interest in portraying himself as the master of cosmetic injectables in an unregulated industry. He is an injectable junkie, obsessed with the syringe & makes no apologies for ruining my life. I hold Gavin Chan responsible for destroying my looks and my life.
In late 2023 I was threatened on 2 occasions with legal action for posting Google reviews on Gavin Chan. His lawyers instructed me to remove each review within 7 days otherwise I would be sued for defamation in the Federal Court of Australia. I wasn't even given a chance to respond to each email when my reviews were both taken down.
I have no doubt in my mind that Gavin Chan was behind the removal of my reviews. In my opinion, Gavin Chan pays a lot of money to have my reviews removed as he doesn't want anyone finding out about me and the truth about him.
I challenge Gavin Chan to explain to the general public, his patients and to his social media followers what he actually means by "background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" as well as publicly display all his credentials on social media (qualifications, certificates and training) in anaesthesia, liposuction & cosmetic procedures such as cosmetic iniectables & laser treatments.
Update: In early 2024 I received further threats from Gavin Chan's lawyers for posting this Reddit review and a RealSelf review regarding my personal experience and results. “Articles medically reviewed by Dr Gavin Chan" & " Dr Gavin Chan has a background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" have since been quietly removed from the Victorian Cosmetic Institute website.
If you are a cosmetic injectable victim or want to be well informed regarding what can go wrong please join BOTCHED FILLERS & HYALURONIDASE DAMAGE SUPPORT GROUP on FB.
submitted by PEPSIPANDORALUNA to u/PEPSIPANDORALUNA [link] [comments]
Once the procedure was over I looked in the mirror & noticed one cheek was higher while the other cheek was lower & further out from my nose. My nasolabial folds were arched, crooked, unnatural & everytime I smiled my cheeks would pop out like golf balls. I hated the results because the filler added volume instead of a lift like I was led to believe.
Just the thought of what I would have looked like if I had gone ahead with the 12 month "alternative treatment plan" devised by the “cosmetic medicine specialist" Dr Somaiye Kadivar who recommended 12mls of filler costing me over $9,000 and 60 units of Botox every 3 months for $720 per treatment gives me nightmares.
Soon after I contacted the owner of the Victorian Cosmetic Institute Gavin Chan and complained about the botched filler. He assured me it was easily & instantly reversible by injecting Hyaluronidase which is used off label to dissolve fillers. After several attempts over the coming days & weeks it was quite obvious that the filler was still present.
On one occasion Gavin Chan dissolved my tear troughs via the cheeks yet I never had filler in my tear troughs to begin with. On another occasion while injecting Hyaluronidase he also started to inject filler into my temple without prior warning. When I asked him why he was injecting my temple he told me he was compensating me for my troubles yet never mentioned that the temple is a danger zone & a risky area to inject.
In total I had 6mls of filler injected into my face within 19 days, yet on the Victorian Cosmetic Institute's website it states that 1ml of filler is enough for the entire face. On each occasion Gavin Chan never informed me of the risks, dangers & complications associated with Hyaluronidase & never gave me a consent form to read and sign.
A few years later I had a consultation with Professor Mark Ashton who is an expert in filler complications & he told me that if the filler hadn't dissolved by now then it was permanent. He gave me a referral for an MRI of the head which detects the exact amount of filler & the exact location of the filler. The MRI report stated that I still had upto 4mls of filler in my face even after all the dissolving sessions from many years ago.
On Dec 3rd 2018 I showed Gavin Chan my MRI results who had no idea at the time that MRI scans can detect fillers. His recommendation was more dissolving but in a larger dose so he flooded my face with Hyaluronidase yet never recorded the amount in my clinical notes. When I went back for a follow up consultation on Dec 10th 2018 he contacted radiologist Mobin Master in my presence who also appeared not to be aware at the time that MRI’s can detect filler but suggested I get another MRI anyway.
Not long after, Gavin Chan contacted me via email thanking me for bringing the MRI information to his attention instead of thanking Professor Mark Ashton who he had previously corresponded with via email regarding my MRI results. For some unknown reason it did not occur to Gavin Chan that Professor Mark Ashton deserved all the credit for having known all along that MRI’s can detect dermal filler.
Instead Gavin Chan chose to capitalise on this information by making a YouTube video claiming he had made this discovery after doing quite a few MRI's (not sure how this is possible as he is not a radiologist). He also stated in his email that he wanted to inject a very high dose of Hyaluronidase to try and dissolve the filler again for the 5th time.
In the meantime I noticed that my facial structure had collapsed, I developed deep hollows under my eyes, my cheeks caved in, my marionette lines were deep, long & dragged down. The corners of my lips sunk into my mouth & my skin was extremely loose, saggy & stretchy all the way down to my neck.
Hyaluronidase did not dissolve my fillers but instead permanently dissolved my connective tissue as it can't distinguish between the skin's own HA & the HA in dermal fillers. Hyaluronidase has aged my facial features by 10 years & only a full facelift & necklift can fix this.
In 2019 & 2020 I took Gavin Chan to VCAT, a small claims court requesting a refund & a corrective advertising order because his website falsely advertised that the temporary fillers they use last anywhere between 12-18 months. Gavin Chan was granted lawyers on the grounds that his business reputation was at stake while I had to represent myself.
I cross examined him with over 90 questions & I presented over 100 pages of supporting evidence & documentation while he only had photos & amended clinical notes. Mobin Master was also present in court supporting Gavin Chan. The hearing was held over 2 days & my claims were eventually dismissed by the judge.
Gavin Chan who “specialises” in cosmetic procedures got away with not providing a patch test for Hyaluronidase and not providing a consent form for Hyaluronidase on each occasion amongst other things.
Mobin Master who began posting the first MRI images on his Instagram account 1 week after the first VCAT hearing in Nov 2019 now identifies as an “aesthetic radiologist” and a “world pioneer” in filler longevity.
Gavin Chan, the self appointed “doctor trainer” for various dermal fillers and anti-wrinkle injections and “cosmetic surgeon” as he once claimed to be isn’t even a GP, he is just a medical practitioner with no other formal training. His only qualification is a Bachelor of Medicine/Bachelor of Surgery with a “background in intensive care, anaesthesia and emergency medicine.
Gavin Chan who medically reviews his own articles has provided cosmetic procedures such as anti-wrinkle injections, dermal fillers, liposuction, facial fat transfers, skin needling and laser treatments since 2004 and has held advanced one-on-one injector training workshops for dermal fillers yet has no certificates or credentials listed on his Victorian Cosmetic Institute’s website.
In my opinion Gavin Chan has a special interest in portraying himself as the master of cosmetic injectables in an unregulated industry. He is an injectable junkie, obsessed with the syringe & makes no apologies for ruining my life. I hold Gavin Chan responsible for destroying my looks and my life.
In late 2023 I was threatened on 2 occasions with legal action for posting Google reviews on Gavin Chan. His lawyers instructed me to remove each review within 7 days otherwise I would be sued for defamation in the Federal Court of Australia. I wasn't even given a chance to respond to each email when my reviews were both taken down.
I have no doubt in my mind that Gavin Chan was behind the removal of my reviews. In my opinion, Gavin Chan pays a lot of money to have my reviews removed as he doesn't want anyone finding out about me and the truth about him.
I challenge Gavin Chan to explain to the general public, his patients and to his social media followers what he actually means by "background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" as well as publicly display all his credentials on social media (qualifications, certificates and training) in anaesthesia, liposuction & cosmetic procedures such as cosmetic iniectables & laser treatments.
Update: In early 2024 I received further threats from Gavin Chan's lawyers for posting this Reddit review and a RealSelf review regarding my personal experience and results. “Articles medically reviewed by Dr Gavin Chan" & " Dr Gavin Chan has a background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" have since been quietly removed from the Victorian Cosmetic Institute website.
If you are a cosmetic injectable victim or want to be well informed regarding what can go wrong please join BOTCHED FILLERS & HYALURONIDASE DAMAGE SUPPORT GROUP on FB.
2024.05.19 11:32 Outrageous-River5987 [25M] Medical mystery, neuro and skin symptoms post infection
My crazy symptoms after strange infection - neurological and flushing
In august last year I had strong infection, I was sweating by month, extreme fatigue, swollen lymph node under armpit.
Since then I have tons of symptons:
https://ibb.co/album/WWw7VS
Bloodwork is ok. Is it some kind of long covid? Taking gabapentin, doesnt help too much. Antihistamines doesnt work (ketotifen too) so not MCAS..Please, tell me which lab tests should I take. Please, I feel like a living dead.
submitted by Outrageous-River5987 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
In august last year I had strong infection, I was sweating by month, extreme fatigue, swollen lymph node under armpit.
Since then I have tons of symptons:
- neuropathic pain in back, deep pain in spine
- right shoulder blade is painful and deep itching, extremely weird tingling pain deep, when I move my arm
- my back feels so messed up I feel asymetric when I walk, when I breathe I feel pain in lot of different places in body
- redness on face, flushing, red ears, heatwaves and warm feeling (mostly at night) - when my face is flushed, symptoms of pins needles burning are the worst
- electric, neuralgic pains in face, head, scalp, pain when I move my eyes deep in face
- body itching, itch deep inside ears, face
- skin on face, scalp, eyelids twitch randomly, like electric shocks
- fatigue, brain fog
- brain zaps
- pins needles in feet, body for example when I put my clothes on
- random warm feelings in legs like hot water in legs
- hives which disappeared mostly
https://ibb.co/album/WWw7VS
Bloodwork is ok. Is it some kind of long covid? Taking gabapentin, doesnt help too much. Antihistamines doesnt work (ketotifen too) so not MCAS..Please, tell me which lab tests should I take. Please, I feel like a living dead.
2024.05.19 11:31 Significant-Tower146 Best Carhartt Balaclava
 | submitted by Significant-Tower146 to u/Significant-Tower146 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/p208gpa2rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5fffa3132c1f6bd9a9089b97f04a24c8a2fc3af8 Welcome to our roundup of the best Carhartt Balaclava options available in the market. It's time to get warm and cozy with this versatile piece of outdoor gear. In this roundup, we'll be exploring the top choices for balaclavas to help you find the perfect fit for your needs. The Top 14 Best Carhartt Balaclava
Reviews🔗Carhartt WIP Storm Chunky-Knit Balaclava - Blackhttps://preview.redd.it/ucekphr2rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c28712cf6dce32e8a29ca75f756672d173657a17 Wearing the Carhartt WIP Storm chunky-knit balaclava in black made me feel like a cool-weather, street-smart daredevil. I'd step out into the frost, ready to conquer the biting cold with this stylish companion on my face. The chunky knit felt soft, keeping me cozy as I braved the winter's icy winds. But what made this balaclava really stand out was the signature box logo on the front. It added a touch of edginess to my everyday look, turning heads wherever I went. But, there was one minor downside - the face opening was slightly more generous than I would have liked. When the wind picked up, or I took a sharp turn, some cold air still found its way in. Overall, though, this balaclava kept me toasty while adding a bit of panache to my style, making it worth the investment. 🔗Carhartt Black Cotton Face Gaiter with Filter Pockethttps://preview.redd.it/vfqmwyh3rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=763c698bc503638fa8abe0ddc5c75abb4e11f1f0 I've been using the Carhartt Black Cotton Gaiter with Filter Pocket for a few weeks now, and I must say, it has been a lifesaver during these pandemic times. As someone who needs to wear a mask at work, I was initially apprehensive about how comfortable the gaiter would be, but boy, was I pleasantly surprised! First off, the fit is just right. It's adjustable, so it's easy to pull it tighter or looser depending on how you want to wear it. The one size fits most, so it's a great option for those who want a gaiter that can adapt to different head sizes without sacrificing comfort. But what really stood out to me is the filter pocket. It's designed to accommodate a filter, and I found that it actually works quite well. With just a small piece of filter, the gaiter provides a great level of protection without feeling too claustrophobic or uncomfortable. However, there were a couple of things that I wasn't particularly fond of. First, the stitching seemed a bit flimsy at times. I had to be extra careful when washing it to avoid any unraveling, which was a bit of a bummer. Overall, though, it held up pretty well despite its slightly weak stitching. The other downside was that it wasn't as easy to get on and off as some other gaiters I've tried. It took a bit of fumbling around to get the elastic cord to secure itself properly, which was a bit of a hassle. Despite these minor issues, I still highly recommend the Carhartt Black Cotton Gaiter with Filter Pocket. It's comfortable, effective, and a great option for anyone looking for a reliable mask alternative during these challenging times. 🔗Carhartt Force Mask: Fast-Dry Winter Balaclavahttps://preview.redd.it/8taciqm3rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=afed3ca32fa711fc68e2a9dfbdee8330c7109920 I've been using the Carhartt Men's Force Helmet Liner Mask for a while now, and it has been a game-changer during my outdoor adventures. The full-face protection that extends below the neckline is a fantastic feature, as it shields me from the biting cold and howling winds. I particularly love the face mask, which can be tucked under the chin when not in use. One of the highlights is the Carhartt Force fabric with Fast Dry technology, which wicks away sweat for added comfort, even during heavy activity. This is perfect for someone like me who tends to sweat a lot during my adventures. The interior of the mask feels incredibly soft and cozy, thanks to the fleeced material. However, there are a few cons to this product as well. First, the mask can get a bit rank due to my persistent breathing through it. I've ended up washing it a hundred times or more and it still shows very little wear. Another feature that could be improved is the neckline. If it were two inches longer, it would provide better coverage and feel even more comfortable. Overall, the Carhartt Men's Force Helmet Liner Mask has been a crucial addition to my wardrobe for those cold outdoor days. It strikes a perfect balance between comfort and functionality, although there is always room for improvement. 🔗Carhartt WIP Black Mission Balaclavahttps://preview.redd.it/b87skly3rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=169b7ad4f9f639775f4ec1319d589988bd6c3b9a Ever find yourself shivering in the chilly outdoors, needing something to keep your face warm without blocking your view of the world? That's where the Carhartt WIP Mission Mask comes in. Made of 100% polyester with a thickness of 220g/m², this mask effortlessly covers your head, face, and neck. The best part? It lets you see the world around you without obstruction. Now, let's talk about the pros. The polyester material is durable and comfortable, perfect for a range of activities from hiking to city exploration. The mask itself is a solid black, giving it a sleek and modern look, which can blend in most outdoor settings. The military label adds an element of ruggedness, perfect for those outdoor enthusiasts. However, there are a few cons to mention. While the mask effectively keeps the chill at bay, the 39 cm height might not be enough for those with a taller stature. Also, some users might find it slightly heavy on the face over extended periods. Overall, the Carhartt WIP Mission Mask is a reliable and fashionable solution for those looking to withstand the cold without compromising their view. Just remember, it's primarily designed for cooler weather, so you might want to opt for another solution in extreme-cold situations. 🔗Carhartt Flame-Resistant Force Balaclava for Comfort and Protectionhttps://preview.redd.it/jzqa4fg4rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=dfbbf328251fb7ad19761a050d9bea5b5f2d9f26 The Carhartt Flame-Resistant Balaclava proved to be a reliable companion on chilly days at work. I loved the full face coverage that extended below the neck. The FastDry technology kept me comfortable throughout the day as the sweat was wicked away, and I felt cool despite the heavy tasks on hand. I appreciated the force technology that pulled the mask down below my chin when needed. However, the drawback of this balaclava was its thickness - it was not as ample warmth on my face as my expectations. Despite this, I would recommend it for those who prioritize comfort and functionality while working in risky environments. 🔗Stay Warm in Extreme Conditions with Carhartt's Fast-Dry Helmet Liner Maskhttps://preview.redd.it/v0h7dfr4rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9770ea30cf71da1711bc574bb4e03ffaeeaa8063 The Carhartt Men's Force Helmet Liner Mask is a reliable companion for those harsh, freezing days. Just like the name suggests, it really does force out the chill. It's a bit like a superhero cape for your neck - you can tuck it into your clothing or wear it loose, and it's always ready to deploy when the winds come howling. The face mask has a nice feature that pulls down under the chin when not in use. It's a little bit like a superhero who can change shapes - it turns from a full-facial protection into a handy scarf for your winter stroll. When it comes to comfort, it uses technology that's akin to a superhero's invisibility cloak. The material wicks away sweat, keeping you dry and cozy. The mask is made from a blend of fabric that's more like a superhero's suit than a simple piece of cloth. It's made from 88% polyester and 12% spandex. This strong blend ensures the mask fits snugly without feeling too tight, and it makes it durable enough to last through many winters. There's a thing about this mask which reminds me of Batman's utility belt - it's full of surprises. It has a full-facial protection that extends below the neckline, which ensures that no icy wind will catch you off guard. And for those times when a little extra chin protection is needed, it has a nifty feature that can pull the front end up, but it still allows enough breathing room. The material is quite breathable but remember, it’s not designed or medically certified to stop airborne disease or protect from viruses. However, it does a commendable job of keeping out dust during winter, which is a relief when you're working in an environment that's full of dusty snow drifts. The design of the mask is simple yet effective. Its quick-dry technology, the antimicrobial finish, and its flat-seam construction all make it an excellent choice in a pinch. Just like a trusty sidekick or a sleek racecar, its one size fits most, and it can be easily washed. The face mask will fit perfectly snug under a helmet, providing extra warmth. The material is quite breathable, but it can get a bit rank from your own breathing, especially after a long workday. But, it shows very little wear after many washes. However, one thing to note is that you won't be stopping an actual criminal with this mask, it’s not designed or medically rated to provide protection from viruses or airborne disease. So, while it may not be a James Bond-style gadget, it's still a pretty decent investment for a warmer, comfier winter experience. This Carhartt Balaclava isn’t just a protective gear; it’s like a superhero's secret weapon that you can tuck under your shirt during those cold and harsh winter days. It’s like wearing a little bit of warmth right under your nose while you go about your day. 🔗Cozy Carhartt Balaclava for Outdoor Adventureshttps://preview.redd.it/esaefni5rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b85f915ed468c58757ea3eb2bec49ae349426c9a I recently had the opportunity to test out the Carhartt WIP Remi Hood Balaclava, and I'm excited to share my experience with all of you. I decided to give it a try as a versatile piece of clothing to keep me warm during those chilly outdoor activities. The very first thing I noticed when I opened the package was the high-quality materials used to create this hood. At 100% acrylic and 5-gauge, it certainly felt luxurious to the touch. It's a great choice for those cold days and nights out. In terms of its design, the Remi Hood delivers a minimalist, yet sleek look. I particularly loved the script logo on the hood, which added a touch of elegance without being too overpowering. The soft acrylic backdrop made it incredibly comfortable to wear, and it fit perfectly despite only having one size. Despite being so comfortable, I couldn't help but notice the occasional itchiness from the acrylic material. However, this trade-off was well worth the overall warmth and comfort the Remi Hood provided. Overall, I highly recommend the Carhartt WIP Remi Hood Balaclava for anyone looking for a practical, stylish, and comfortable way to stay warm during those chilly outdoor adventures. 🔗Carhartt Balaclava: Durable Rib-Knit Insulated Face Maskhttps://preview.redd.it/gj9lfir5rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f7e7d6656d46b2b43307d3dfded31d30cdcfbe9d I recently had the chance to try out the Carhartt Black Knit Insulated Face Mask, and let me tell you, it's a game-changer when it comes to staying warm in cold weather. The highlight of this face mask is its long neck, which provides not only enhanced protection from chilly winds but also a greater sense of comfort and security. One of the things I appreciated most about this face mask is its acrylic rib-knit fabric. It offers just the right amount of insulation, keeping you cozy during those frigid winter days. The softness of the material also ensures that it's comfortable to wear, even for extended periods. However, there were a couple of drawbacks I noticed while using the mask. Firstly, the overlock stitching, which is designed to resist abrasion, can sometimes be a bit annoying as it tends to catch on clothing and other surfaces. Secondly, the mask can become quite wrinkled after washing, which may affect its overall appearance and effectiveness. Overall, the Carhartt Black Knit Insulated Face Mask is an excellent choice for anyone looking for a reliable, warm, and comfortable winter accessory. Its unique features and high-quality materials make it a standout option in the market, even if there are a few minor drawbacks to consider. 🔗Carhartt WIP Brown Balaclava for All Seasonshttps://preview.redd.it/id7fcmg6rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f45bce00e88e154dcb8aa4af22b574e0f9497442 I recently gave the Carhartt WIP Storm Mask a try, and I must say, it's been a game-changer for me during these chilly months. Made of a cozy, warm acrylic fabric, its comfort is unparalleled. The stretchy rib knit construction makes it fit like a glove, and the Carhartt WIP logo on the cuff gives it that classic touch. One downside I noticed was the color of the mask appearing more reddish-brown in the picture than what I received, but that didn't affect my overall experience. Overall, it's a great tool to protect against the winter's harshness and make my commutes more enjoyable. 🔗Off-White Remi Balaclava by Carhartt WIP - Rib Knit, 100% Acrylic, 5 Gaugehttps://preview.redd.it/t8k4v1r6rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3ec1401ffe1d9a8134fe08c6e476090ecf88f412 The Carhartt Work in Progress Off-White Remi Balaclava was a game-changer for my daily routine. As someone who's always on the go, the height of 36.5 cm was a perfect fit, allowing me to stay comfortable and protected. The 100% acrylic and 5-gauge material proved to be both durable and cozy. The label with the script logo added a touch of class to the overall design. However, the one downside was the balaclava's trim, which felt somewhat too tight and constricting. Despite that minor hiccup, the Remi Balaclava has undoubtedly become a staple in my wardrobe. 🔗Carhartt WIP Storm Mask: Winter Gear for Full-Face Protectionhttps://preview.redd.it/6ntcq297rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8d077cbb519f5e84cb91b15237ebc6d65ea45366 I recently tried the Carhartt WIP Storm Mask in black - a snug little warm-up you might want to explore this winter. Made of a stretchy, four-gauge rib-knit acrylic fabric, it feels soft and cozy against your skin. The one-size-fits-all approach means it's perfect for all genders and head sizes. Although it covers the entire face, it still has a subtle see-through pattern over the eyes. If you live in a chilly area, this might be the right piece for you. It's perfect for keeping your face warm, shielding you from the harsh winter cold. However, be aware that it may get a bit itchy after a long time of use. Overall, it's a pretty handy, comfortable and stylish bit of winter attire. So far, so good! 🔗Carhartt Men's Washed Duck Insulated Hood: Adjustable Balaclava with Quilted Nylon Lininghttps://preview.redd.it/g5qxtck7rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7c7bd9ddc99fadbd852c698827597d34b74f3a04 I recently purchased the Carhartt Men's Washed Duck Insulated Hood for my coat, and I must say I am quite impressed. The quilted-nylon lining provides warmth and comfort, while the three-piece hood construction and draw cord adjustable with cord lock allow for a perfect fit. Although I have faced some difficulty with the triple-stitched main seams coming undone after a few months, overall, I am satisfied with my purchase. The hood has come in handy during those windy days, providing adequate coverage on the sides and top. However, the snaps on the hood may not align perfectly with the coat, causing a minor inconvenience. In summary, the Carhartt Men's Washed Duck Insulated Hood offers a decent fit and warmth, but the snaps may require a little tweaking to work correctly. 🔗Carhartt Camo Balaclava with FastDry Technologyhttps://preview.redd.it/nqi4js08rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a1ded5d332ed60b3e8d30c87e512cda58869f03c As a seasoned outdoor enthusiast, I recently tried the Carhartt Camo Fleece 2 in 1 Headwear, and I was thoroughly impressed. The headwear not only provides adequate warmth but also offers excellent protection from the elements. The 2 in 1 design, with a pull-down face mask, truly makes this product stand out. One of the most noteworthy aspects of the Carhartt Camo Fleece Headwear is its FastDry technology. This feature really comes in handy when I'm out in the cold for extended periods, as it ensures my face mask dries promptly after use, maintaining its effectiveness. The fact that the mask can be tucked up into the hat when not in use is a simple yet effective design that adds convenience. The Carhartt leatherette label sewn on the front is a thoughtful touch that adds a certain elegance and authenticity to the headwear. It makes the product stand out from others in the market, giving it a unique identity. However, there are a couple of minor drawbacks with this product. While I appreciated the face mask, it could have been slightly longer to ensure better coverage and tuck-in capabilities. Additionally, I found that the fit around the ears could be slightly better, as I experienced some slippage with my current headwear size. Overall, the Carhartt Camo Fleece 2 in 1 Headwear combines comfort and protection in one convenient package. It's perfect for those who spend time outdoors, hunting, or simply need to keep their face and ears warm in cold weather. With its unique 2 in 1 design and FastDry technology, this headwear is definitely a worthwhile investment. 🔗Carhartt Fleece 2-in-1 Winter Protection Balaclavahttps://preview.redd.it/tkgj8ru8rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=78d6640d793379f00c819f877e88ca7394318a76 When I was using the Carhartt Fleece 2-in-1 Headwear, I noticed how versatile it was. With the ear flaps and pull-down face mask, I felt like I had complete control over my level of warmth. As one reviewer mentioned, the hat really delivers warmth during the coldest of winter days, and it's perfect for when you need that extra protection. However, there were a couple of cons that I came across during my experience. Firstly, the size seemed to be a bit small, especially for those with larger heads or those who wear glasses, as mentioned by some users. While it was a small issue for some, others reported having cold necks when using the headwear. Lastly, the face mask was not detachable, even though it's very useful in cold weather. This made it a bit inconvenient for wearing while engaged in lighter activities, like working around the house. Overall, I found this product to be a really useful tool for the unpredictable winter weather. It offers both warmth and comfort, and the moisture-wicking backing helps keep any moisture away from your skin. Despite the minor cons, I would definitely recommend the Carhartt Fleece 2-in-1 Headwear to others looking for all-weather protection. Buyer's GuideWelcome to our comprehensive buyer's guide for Carhartt Balaclavas. In this section, we'll provide you with essential information to help you make an informed decision when purchasing one of these versatile headwear pieces. The Carhartt brand is renowned for its durable and high-quality products, and their Balaclavas are no exception. Without further ado, let's dive into the details. https://preview.redd.it/pzx7zba9rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=22ed36641608bd48a97f5284b90ed38db1990280 What is a Carhartt Balaclava?A Carhartt Balaclava is a multi-functional head covering that's designed to protect the wearer from cold weather and harsh conditions. Balaclavas are typically made of a warm insulated material, and their unique design allows the wearer to expose only the face or mouth while covering the entire head and neck. Due to their adaptability and versatility, they are a popular choice among outdoor enthusiasts, athletes, and workers.Material and InsulationThe quality of the material and insulation is a crucial factor when considering a Carhartt Balaclava. Make sure to choose a model that made of a durable, moisture-wicking, and insulated material. Common materials used in Carhartt Balaclavas include polyester, fleece, and acrylic knits. Look for proper insulation in the form of fillers or lining to help maintain body heat and prevent cold temperatures from affecting your comfort. https://preview.redd.it/jv7yrjw9rc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7dd991411c6f7a34302fd414bc29c38206d80900 Fit and ComfortWhen shopping for a Carhartt Balaclava, ensure that it fits well and is comfortable. A snug, yet not too tight, fit will provide optimal heat retention and protection from wind and snow. The Balaclava should be easy to adjust and wear, with minimal bulkiness around the face.StylingWhile styling may not be the first priority when choosing a Carhartt Balaclava, it's still worth considering. Look for designs that match your personal style or the needs of a specific activity or occasion. Some Carhartt Balaclavas come with adjustable necklines and face openings, allowing you to customize the look to your preference. https://preview.redd.it/qctx02carc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=52a9dbda5bc1596dc7771a50698f434d6f3f7bb0 Brand Reliability and ReputationCarhartt is a reputable brand known for their high-quality, durable, and practical designs. By choosing a Carhartt Balaclava, you can rest assured that you're investing in a product that's built to last and will provide you with excellent protection from harsh weather conditions.Customer Reviews and RatingsBefore making a purchase, take a look at customer reviews and ratings for the Carhartt Balaclava you're considering. This will help you gain insight into the product's performance, durability, and fit from real-world users.A Carhartt Balaclava is an essential item for those who love spending time outdoors in cold and windy conditions. By considering the features, materials, fit, and style, you can find the perfect Balaclava to meet your specific needs. Remember to always read product descriptions, reviews, and ratings before making a purchase to ensure satisfaction. https://preview.redd.it/ibqc6gwarc1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=311db60b0998783857050c9c94e55d68e44bbe24 FAQWhat is a Carhartt Balaclava?A Carhartt Balaclava is a type of face mask designed to provide both warmth and protection from harsh cold weather conditions. It is typically made of durable materials, like Carhartt's signature rugged fabric, making it suitable for outdoor activities.Why should I choose a Carhartt Balaclava over other brands?Carhartt is known for its high-quality products that are built to withstand the toughest conditions. When you choose a Carhartt Balaclava, you can expect it to be both comfortable to wear and resistant to wear and tear. Additionally, the brand has a long-standing reputation for crafting reliable and durable workwear, making it a trusted choice for many consumers.How do I choose the right Carhartt Balaclava for me?
Are Carhartt Balaclavas suitable for various activities?Yes, Carhartt Balaclavas are versatile and suitable for a variety of activities, including outdoor sports, winter hiking, skiing, and snowboarding. The choice of balaclava will depend on the specific activity and weather conditions you expect to encounter.How do I care for and store my Carhartt Balaclava?
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2024.05.19 11:18 PowerMinute1922 The Man who screams at Daybreak
My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reachhis its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.
submitted by PowerMinute1922 to nosleep [link] [comments]
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.
2024.05.19 11:14 HealthyYard6559 Revelation 1:12-17
"And I looked back to see the voice that spoke to me; and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks, And in the midst of the seven candlesticks the likeness of the Son of man, clothed in a long robe, and girt about his chest with a golden belt. And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes like a flame of fire; And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace; and His voice like the roar of many waters; And He held in His right hand seven stars, and from His mouth issued a sword sharp on both sides, and His face was like the sun shining in its power. And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead, and He laid His right hand on saying to me: Fear not, I am the First and the Last."
Rev. 1:12-17
John heard a voice behind him and when he turned around he saw a vision of the glorified Lord Jesus Christ who is the Lord and head of the church.
"... Christ is the head of the church,"
Eph. 5:23
However, let's go in order. When John turned around, he first saw seven candlesticks, "and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks". First, let's see why "seven candlesticks". verse.
"and the seven candlesticks which you saw are seven churches."
Rev. 1:20
So John sees a vision of the church which is represented as a candlestick. These candlesticks were made of gold and could be transferred from one place to another olive oil was put in them and they served to light. The fact that they are made of gold speaks of indestructibility and the same John writes, "seven golden candlesticks" and the Lord said that the church is indestructible, so the symbolism is clear.
"And I also say to you: you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it."
Matt. 16:18
We saw that the candlesticks were used to give light and here the symbolism is very clear, in this corrupt and dark world the church should shine because it has knowledge that is from the Lord that shines compared to what Satan and the world offer. In Matthew we can read about these topics:
"You are a vision to the world; a city cannot be hidden when it stands on a mountain. Nor is a candle lit and put under a judge, but on a candlestick, and it gives light to all who are in the house. So that your light shines before people, so that they can see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
Mt. 5:14-16
And now John says, "And amid the seven lampstands as the Son of Man" Since John last saw the Lord Jesus, many years have passed, even about 60, and now he sees a glorified Jesus in the middle of the church, as he had not seen him before. John saw Him as a man. while he was on earth and now he is both man and God, the God-man, and in the middle of the church because he promised it.
"I will not leave you destitute; I will come to you"
John 14:18
,, and here I am with you all the days until the end of the century. Amen."
Matt. 28:20
Here is what else was said about the relationship between God the Father, Jesus and the church:
"Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he is the one who loves me; and whoever has love for me, my Father will have love for him; and I will have love for him, and I will speak to him myself"
John 14:21
"Whoever loves me will keep my word; and my Father will have love for him; and we will come to him, and we will dwell in him."
John 14:23
Although they killed Jesus, He is alive in the midst of His church and gives it the power to shine in the darkness, and this is possible because every member of the church can say:
"And I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And now that I live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, whom I loved, and who gave himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
,, dressed in a long robe, and girded across the chest with a golden belt." Long robes were worn by kings, prophets and high priests in the Old Testament. Here Jesus is probably represented in the high priest's robe, and we conclude that based on the verses:
"Having, therefore, a great High Priest, who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the son of God, let us hold on to confession. Because we do not have a High Priest who cannot suffer with our weaknesses, but who has been tempted in everything like us, except for sin."
Hebrews 4:14-15
Jesus went through suffering and was tempted far more than we are and then he triumphantly took his high priestly robe and now we see that he is among the church he loves because he offered his blood for her.
"who loves us and washes us from our sins with his blood"
Rev. 1:5
We further see that he has a gold belt on his chest, the belt is a symbol of the winner and gold also symbolizes victory and the winner, we know that today the winners in various sports receive gold medals and in some also belts that are proof that they are winners and we do not have athletes here but the Lord Jesus Christ who defeated sin and death and who redeemed his church and with them can "celebrate the victory" in sports jargon.
"And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow." Here John describes Christ's holiness and purity, which is "white".
this is used here so that we can understand at least a little part of the fullness, part of the holiness of God which is not soiled or stained by anything, and "white" is the best description. In support of this is a part of the verses that talk about the blinding light which again is "white" " so we see that this is a symbolic representation of God's eternal holiness. This is what happened to Paul as a result of God's holiness.
"At noon, king, I saw on the way from the sky a light greater than the brightness of the sun, which illuminated me and those who were going with me."
Acts 26:13
"And when I became blind from the strong light of it, those who were with me led me by the hand, and I came to Damascus."
Acts 22:11
"and His eyes are like a flame of fire" The Lord is with the church, but He watches and sees everything that happens in the church:
"whose eyes are like a flame of fire"
Rev. 2:18
"And there is no substance unknown before Him, but everything is naked and exposed before the eyes of the One to whom we speak."
Hebrews 4:13
and is ready to burn everything impure in the church. We know from experience that during burning, all objects that are not, say, metal or stone, are burned and only they "survive" the flame, while something that is paper, cloth, grass or something else with a low at the point of ignition they are turned into ashes, that's how all the impurities must be burned here and the church must be as clean as "metal" that passed through the flame where only the corrosion was burned, which means that the metal has become cleaner.
The church should be clean, and it is written about that:
"Because I am jealous for you with God's zeal, because I vowed you to one husband, to bring a pure girl before Christ."
2 Cor.11:2
,,...Christ loves the church, and gave himself up for her, to avenge her by cleansing her by bathing in the word; To put it in a glorious church, which has no blemish or wrinkle, or anything like that, but that it should be holy and without blemish."
Eph. 5:25-27
"And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace;" This refers to God's chastisement for sin. We have probably all had the opportunity to see what molten metal looks like, either in a factory or we have watched videos of lava burning from a volcano and moving on he burns and burns all sides and everything in front of him so that nothing remains. Something similar is also here, Lord Jesus is very merciful and full of grace, but he is also a flame that can trample and burn everything in front of him.
"and He treads on the cauldron of wine and hearts and the wrath of God Almighty"
Rev. 19:15
,, and His voice is like the roar of many waters; "This is the voice of authority, the voice of God who is speaking and you can only hear him because when you are next to a big water or a waterfall of roaring water you cannot hear anything else. Here it is the voice of Jesus speaking to the church and to all of us through his word and revelation by the Holy Spirit .
"And he held in his right hand seven stars," We have an explanation of what these stars are in the following verse:
"seven stars are the angels of the seven churches"
Rev. 1:20
These seven "stars" are the preachers of the seven churches and this testifies that the churches and the preachers are under the control of the Lord Jesus and He holds them in his right hand. This does not apply to angels because nowhere are angels leaders in churches, angels have other tasks while they are leaders in the churches of the people.
"Thus says He who holds seven stars in His right hand"
Rev. 2:1
"And out of His mouth came a sword sharp on both sides," and here we have verses that refer to chastisement and judgment because Jesus defends His church and opposes the Gentiles who tried and will try as long as they can to destroy the Church and the work God's. They are followed by a warning:
"And out of His mouth came a sharp sword, to slay the Gentiles with it;"
Rev. 19:15
..And to the angel of the church of Pergamum write: Thus says He who has a two-edged sword:"
Rev. 2:12
but there is not only judgment but before that mercy, the last warning:
"Repent therefore; if not, I will come to you soon, and I will fight with them with the sword of my mouth."
Rev. 2:16
"and His face was like the sun shining in its power" This is a complete continuation of the description that was earlier and it referred to the hair and eyes. If the hair and eyes were as in the description earlier, it is logical that the face should be like that, that the face shines. The face of Jesus as the head of the church shines in the church, but Jesus also wants to shine through the church that is in the world and in that way so that the Gentiles see the power of God and come to repentance. The Lord is patiently waiting.
"The Lord is not late with His promise, as some think He is late, but He is patient with us, because He will not let anyone perish, but all come to repentance"
2 Peter 3:9
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead..." John, at this announcement of the Lord Jesus, "was shocked, speechless" maybe he was so scared that he simply fell as if dead when he saw part of the astonishing glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.
submitted by HealthyYard6559 to u/HealthyYard6559 [link] [comments]
Rev. 1:12-17
John heard a voice behind him and when he turned around he saw a vision of the glorified Lord Jesus Christ who is the Lord and head of the church.
"... Christ is the head of the church,"
Eph. 5:23
However, let's go in order. When John turned around, he first saw seven candlesticks, "and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks". First, let's see why "seven candlesticks". verse.
"and the seven candlesticks which you saw are seven churches."
Rev. 1:20
So John sees a vision of the church which is represented as a candlestick. These candlesticks were made of gold and could be transferred from one place to another olive oil was put in them and they served to light. The fact that they are made of gold speaks of indestructibility and the same John writes, "seven golden candlesticks" and the Lord said that the church is indestructible, so the symbolism is clear.
"And I also say to you: you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it."
Matt. 16:18
We saw that the candlesticks were used to give light and here the symbolism is very clear, in this corrupt and dark world the church should shine because it has knowledge that is from the Lord that shines compared to what Satan and the world offer. In Matthew we can read about these topics:
"You are a vision to the world; a city cannot be hidden when it stands on a mountain. Nor is a candle lit and put under a judge, but on a candlestick, and it gives light to all who are in the house. So that your light shines before people, so that they can see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
Mt. 5:14-16
And now John says, "And amid the seven lampstands as the Son of Man" Since John last saw the Lord Jesus, many years have passed, even about 60, and now he sees a glorified Jesus in the middle of the church, as he had not seen him before. John saw Him as a man. while he was on earth and now he is both man and God, the God-man, and in the middle of the church because he promised it.
"I will not leave you destitute; I will come to you"
John 14:18
,, and here I am with you all the days until the end of the century. Amen."
Matt. 28:20
Here is what else was said about the relationship between God the Father, Jesus and the church:
"Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he is the one who loves me; and whoever has love for me, my Father will have love for him; and I will have love for him, and I will speak to him myself"
John 14:21
"Whoever loves me will keep my word; and my Father will have love for him; and we will come to him, and we will dwell in him."
John 14:23
Although they killed Jesus, He is alive in the midst of His church and gives it the power to shine in the darkness, and this is possible because every member of the church can say:
"And I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And now that I live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, whom I loved, and who gave himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
,, dressed in a long robe, and girded across the chest with a golden belt." Long robes were worn by kings, prophets and high priests in the Old Testament. Here Jesus is probably represented in the high priest's robe, and we conclude that based on the verses:
"Having, therefore, a great High Priest, who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the son of God, let us hold on to confession. Because we do not have a High Priest who cannot suffer with our weaknesses, but who has been tempted in everything like us, except for sin."
Hebrews 4:14-15
Jesus went through suffering and was tempted far more than we are and then he triumphantly took his high priestly robe and now we see that he is among the church he loves because he offered his blood for her.
"who loves us and washes us from our sins with his blood"
Rev. 1:5
We further see that he has a gold belt on his chest, the belt is a symbol of the winner and gold also symbolizes victory and the winner, we know that today the winners in various sports receive gold medals and in some also belts that are proof that they are winners and we do not have athletes here but the Lord Jesus Christ who defeated sin and death and who redeemed his church and with them can "celebrate the victory" in sports jargon.
"And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow." Here John describes Christ's holiness and purity, which is "white".
this is used here so that we can understand at least a little part of the fullness, part of the holiness of God which is not soiled or stained by anything, and "white" is the best description. In support of this is a part of the verses that talk about the blinding light which again is "white" " so we see that this is a symbolic representation of God's eternal holiness. This is what happened to Paul as a result of God's holiness.
"At noon, king, I saw on the way from the sky a light greater than the brightness of the sun, which illuminated me and those who were going with me."
Acts 26:13
"And when I became blind from the strong light of it, those who were with me led me by the hand, and I came to Damascus."
Acts 22:11
"and His eyes are like a flame of fire" The Lord is with the church, but He watches and sees everything that happens in the church:
"whose eyes are like a flame of fire"
Rev. 2:18
"And there is no substance unknown before Him, but everything is naked and exposed before the eyes of the One to whom we speak."
Hebrews 4:13
and is ready to burn everything impure in the church. We know from experience that during burning, all objects that are not, say, metal or stone, are burned and only they "survive" the flame, while something that is paper, cloth, grass or something else with a low at the point of ignition they are turned into ashes, that's how all the impurities must be burned here and the church must be as clean as "metal" that passed through the flame where only the corrosion was burned, which means that the metal has become cleaner.
The church should be clean, and it is written about that:
"Because I am jealous for you with God's zeal, because I vowed you to one husband, to bring a pure girl before Christ."
2 Cor.11:2
,,...Christ loves the church, and gave himself up for her, to avenge her by cleansing her by bathing in the word; To put it in a glorious church, which has no blemish or wrinkle, or anything like that, but that it should be holy and without blemish."
Eph. 5:25-27
"And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace;" This refers to God's chastisement for sin. We have probably all had the opportunity to see what molten metal looks like, either in a factory or we have watched videos of lava burning from a volcano and moving on he burns and burns all sides and everything in front of him so that nothing remains. Something similar is also here, Lord Jesus is very merciful and full of grace, but he is also a flame that can trample and burn everything in front of him.
"and He treads on the cauldron of wine and hearts and the wrath of God Almighty"
Rev. 19:15
,, and His voice is like the roar of many waters; "This is the voice of authority, the voice of God who is speaking and you can only hear him because when you are next to a big water or a waterfall of roaring water you cannot hear anything else. Here it is the voice of Jesus speaking to the church and to all of us through his word and revelation by the Holy Spirit .
"And he held in his right hand seven stars," We have an explanation of what these stars are in the following verse:
"seven stars are the angels of the seven churches"
Rev. 1:20
These seven "stars" are the preachers of the seven churches and this testifies that the churches and the preachers are under the control of the Lord Jesus and He holds them in his right hand. This does not apply to angels because nowhere are angels leaders in churches, angels have other tasks while they are leaders in the churches of the people.
"Thus says He who holds seven stars in His right hand"
Rev. 2:1
"And out of His mouth came a sword sharp on both sides," and here we have verses that refer to chastisement and judgment because Jesus defends His church and opposes the Gentiles who tried and will try as long as they can to destroy the Church and the work God's. They are followed by a warning:
"And out of His mouth came a sharp sword, to slay the Gentiles with it;"
Rev. 19:15
..And to the angel of the church of Pergamum write: Thus says He who has a two-edged sword:"
Rev. 2:12
but there is not only judgment but before that mercy, the last warning:
"Repent therefore; if not, I will come to you soon, and I will fight with them with the sword of my mouth."
Rev. 2:16
"and His face was like the sun shining in its power" This is a complete continuation of the description that was earlier and it referred to the hair and eyes. If the hair and eyes were as in the description earlier, it is logical that the face should be like that, that the face shines. The face of Jesus as the head of the church shines in the church, but Jesus also wants to shine through the church that is in the world and in that way so that the Gentiles see the power of God and come to repentance. The Lord is patiently waiting.
"The Lord is not late with His promise, as some think He is late, but He is patient with us, because He will not let anyone perish, but all come to repentance"
2 Peter 3:9
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead..." John, at this announcement of the Lord Jesus, "was shocked, speechless" maybe he was so scared that he simply fell as if dead when he saw part of the astonishing glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.
2024.05.19 10:58 jenajiejing The Secret of Human Bodies – Examples Proving the Existence of the Greatest Creator
Xue Feng Though the modern medicine has limited knowledge of human bodies, what we have known is enough for us to admire the excellent human body structure and functions. Each system and organ in the human body is designed by the Greatest Creator. Even those trivial body parts have great functions. For example, there are several types of hairs on human bodies with distinct forms and functions. The head hair is designed to protect and beautify the head. It can grow long. According to the Bible, “But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” The eyebrows can divert sweat and rain, preventing them into the eyes. That’s why they are lined above the two eyes. Eyelashes can prevent the dust and other things from entering the eyes. That’s why they are lined on the sides of the eyelids. Also they stand forward in a special curve because it wouldn’t hinder the eyesight or pierce into the eyes when closing the eyes. If the eyebrows and eyelashes are too long, they will hinder the eyesight. That’s why they wouldn’t grow as long as the hair or beards. The nasal hairs can filter the inhaled air. That’s why they grow inside the nostril and stand sideways and outwards. If they stand inwards, the other things will find it easy to come into the nostrils and difficult to go out. The armpit hairs can prevent the partial friction and help the sweat evaporate. Without the armpit hairs, we have to raise our arms. Otherwise the skin under the arm will become inflamed because of the friction and moist. Required by the function, the armpit hairs cannot grow as long as the head hairs, or as short as the eyebrows. Besides, they are soft and curving. If they are rigid and coarse, they will hurt the skin. And cilia grow on the intestinal epithelium. The cilia grow downward and vibrate together. The vibrating waves move downward from upward to help move down the intestinal contents. Cilia also grow on the airway and bronchus epithelium. However, they grow and vibrate in the opposite direction as those on the intestinal epithelium. Only in this way can they move the sputum upward to the throat and spit them. If they grow downward, the airway and bronchus would get stuck by the sputum and the humans would die from it. Now I wish to take two simple reflections of human bodies as an example. When foreign matters enter the nostrils or airways, they will arouse two protective reflections, sneeze or cough, which is designed to repel the foreign matters. But due to different situation, these two reflections differ in their approaches. The foreign matters in the nostrils are not urgent so the sneeze reflection can be prepared in a composed way. First, inhale slowly; open the mouth, and the soft place move upward to block the nostril. Then breathe in enough air through the mouth, and the pleural body contracts sharply to emit the air in the lungs quickly. When the emitting reaches its peak, the tongue rises abruptly to block the mouth to repel the air to go out swiftly through the nostrils. In this way the foreign matters in the nostrils are driven out. However, if the foreign matters enter the airway, it is an emergent situation. If the foreign matters are not driven out timely, the life will be put at risk. The inhaling is strictly forbidden because it will make the foreign matters go deeper and cause suffocation. So the cough doesn’t include the inhaling. Instead, the glottis closes immediately. At the same time, the pleural body contracts suddenly and adds the lung air pressure extremely. When the pressure is at its strongest point, the glottis opens suddenly and the lung air sends out explosively, compelling the foreign matters in the airway to the throat via the glottis. At this time, the soft place rises to block the nostrils. The foreign matters are spit out through the mouth. If the tongue and the soft place perform the same way as in the sneeze, the foreign matters emitted out of the airway will enter the nostrils, causing another trouble. In these two reflections, the body parts must cooperate closely. Any failure in the coordination will lead to the failure of the reflection, causing serious consequences. So these activities are not done freely. Instead, they are done as required by their functions and set procedures. These procedures are not learnt or practices. The program has been rooted in our brain nerve structure (nerve nucleus) when we are born. Otherwise, the babies will not survive. The advanced computer science has made it possible to simulate these activities. However, the simulation requires 3 conditions: 1. Device simulating the inhale and exhaling of human mouth, nose, throat, pleural and the sensing device; 2. The central control equipment simulating nerves and body system (compute, input and output devices). The above two devices are hardware. And software is also needed, namely (3). A program composed in strict compliance with the requirements to control the performance and procedure of each link, and arrange them in perfect coordination. All the three conditions are imperative. Otherwise the reflections can’t be realized. The program itself is not a substance structure. Instead, it is a smart use and spiritual result. There will be no such a thing as the program without the smart use. So we have to ask, the program is composed by the humans and stored in the computer, how about the control program in the human brain. Is it also composed by someone and stored in the human brain? Sneeze and cough are the simplest examples. There are numerous automatically controlled physical, bio-chemical and pathological human body activities, which are even more sophisticated than reflections of cough. Even today, some of them remain mysteries to us. So how are these sophisticated control programs composed? And where do they come from? Now let’s have a look at the sensory organs on human bodies. Why do we have two ears? The reason is that one ear is not able to identify the direction. With the ears lying on two sides of the head, the sound reaches the ears in sequence of time. Based on the slight receiving time difference, the brain can judge where the sound comes from. The auricle is the most outward component of the ear. It can introduce the sound into the external auditory canal. Within the auricle there is a thin layer of cartilage helping to retain the form of auricle, giving it wonderful elasticity and protecting it from the clashes. Without the cartilage, the auricle is just two useless pieces of skin hanging on the head side. If the thin bone is inside the auricle, it will break easily even if when you are sleeping on your side, damaging the auricle. There is fuzz on the outer segment of the external auditory canal preventing the sand and dust. The inner segment secretes cerumen to prevent insects. When foreign matters enter the external auditory canal, it will trigger head shaking, instead of sneeze or cough, to get the matters out. Because the external auditory canal is a blind passage, it is impossible to repel the foreign matters with air. Why don’t the foreign matters in the nostrils arouse the head-shaking reflection to repel them? That’s because the nostrils of humans almost lie in the middle of the head. The shaking is not able to produce enough centrifugal force. Besides, the human nostrils face downward and it is improper to repel the foreign matters by shaking the head. The sound is produced by the mechanical vibration of objects and is transmitted by the air fluctuation, or the sound waves. The human ears are actually working like a precise mechanical vibration monitor. In the inner ear there are a number of keyboards with different sizes, producing nerve impulses produced by echoing with corresponding frequencies. The brain, in accordance with the features of these impulses, identifies the strength, tunes and timbre of the sounds. We must note though there are many sensory organs in human bodies, only the inner ear is protected by the most solid and firm bones. In fact, it lies in the cave part of the temporal bone. Of all the sensory organs, only the ears monitor the mechanical vibration, which needs a relatively fixed position. Otherwise, it is not able to monitor the sound. If the inner ear lies in the soft tissues, when the sound wave arrives, the inner ear will vibrate with it. Thus it can hear nothing. Now the inner ear lies in the firm bone and it can’t sense the air vibration. So it is imperative to reduce the density waves to the mechanical vibrations before sending them to the inner ear. And there is such a reduction device at the middle bottom of the external auditory canal, which is called the eardrum. The eardrum has enough space to receive the air pressure. It is thin enough to vibrate when the sound wave arrives. Meanwhile, the eardrum is strong enough to push the transmission device. The long handle of the middle ear cartilage is attached to its inner side, the tensile force of which makes the eardrum sink inside slightly to maintain certain tension. This allows the eardrum to accurately reduce the arriving sound waves into the mechanical vibrations. No matter what the temperature is, the vibration function is not impacted. After the sound waves are reduced into the mechanical vibration, some rigid objects are needed to transmit the vibration to the inner ear. Of all body tissues, the most rigid objects are the bones. However, the bones are heavy in general and covered by the soft tissues, which are not suitable for the audio vibration. However, in the tympanic cavity between the eardrum and the inner ear, there are three unique tiny bones with delicate forms measured in millimeters. They are almost completely exposed to the air in the tympanic cavity. These three tiny bones are connected by ligament and form a transmission chain in curve with excellent audio vibration function, able to transmit accurately the vibration of the eardrum to the inner ear. The transmission device can properly multiply the weak vibration and reduce the strong sound wave. All of these structures are the super designs required by the acoustics. There are even smarter designs in the hearing organ. For example, to make the eardrum vibrate freely following the arriving sound waves, the two sides of the eardrums must be exposed to the air. As a result, there is a tympanic cavity full of air in the middle ear. If the cavity is filled by liquids, just as other cavities are, the eardrum is not able to vibrate because the liquids can’t contract. Besides, the cavity does not only need to be filled with air, but also needs to be connected to the outside world with a proper passage, to balance the static air pressure in the cavity with the outside air pressure. Otherwise, the air in the cavity will gradually be absorbed, causing the eardrum to sink excessively or damaging it. When the outside air pressure changes, (such as in mountain climbing, diving, the airplane takeoff or climate change), it will arouse uncomfortable feelings or lead to hearing malfunction. But the middle ear can’t be opened to the outside world directly, just like the external auditory canal or nostrils can. The reason is that the direct exposure will make the arriving waving sound reach the two sides of the eardrums at the same time via the external auditory canal and middle ear passage, counteracting the sound pressure. Thus the eardrums will not vibrate at all, unable to produce the hearing. So it is a difficult problem to connect the middle ear and the outside world. However, the human body, with a smart design, solves this problem. The middle ear is opened at the two sides in the upper rear of the pharynx via a half-opened passage (the so-called auditory tube). The auditory tube is locked in common times and only opened temporarily when taking the swallowing actions, balancing the air pressure in the middle ear shortly. After the swallowing action is over, the auditory tube is locked again. Apart from eating, human body would regularly take swallowing action unconsciously, even when he or she is sleeping. Thus the air pressure in the middle ear can be adjusted from time to time and avoid the hearing from being hindered. Besides, when swallowing, the swallowing segment and the soft palate will definitely rise, blocking the mouth and nostrils against the outside world. So on the moment when the ear and throat are opened shortly, though the air in the throat can enter the middle ear, the sound waves from the outside world are blocked against the middle ear. As a result, the hearing will not be interfered and can receive the outside sound and voice. Only the throat in the body can meet the special demand of the hearing organs. The throat is originally designed as part of the digestion and breathing system, it does not belong to sensory system. However, it can cooperate so smartly with the hearing organs. We have to admire the extremely delicate body-wise design. The vestibule in the inner ear controls the balance of the body. In the vestibule there are 3 semicircular canals. When the body loses balance, the mutually-vertical semicircular canals produce the balance impulse, which triggers the corresponding reflection via the balance center in the medulla brain. Why are there 3 semicircular canals instead of 2 or 4? And why are they mutually vertical? The reason is apparent. Humans live in the 3-dimensional space. There are 3 mutually-vertical movement directions, namely, front and rear, left and right, upward and downward. So the 3 mutually-vertical semicircular canals can monitor the movements. The number less than 3 or more than 3 would be insufficient or redundant. We can see the delicate and smart structure and function, and the supreme wisdom in them. They can’t be the accidental results. As the most important perception of human bodies, vision provides more information than that provided by all other perceptions. The vision is the perception of image and space and the visual organs must have the most precise and accurate structure completely different from other sensory organs. As a result, in the perspective of the embryo-genesis or neuro-anatomy, the main structure of the eyes is not just the common receptor. Instead, it is part of the cerebral cortex. The so-called optic nerves are completely different from other cerebrospinal nerves. In essence, the optic nerves are inner structure in the brain, transmitting the most sophisticated visual information. The eyes function like a precise camera. The retina composed of the photoreceptor cells is just like the films. The crystal, iris and the cornea works like the lens, diaphragm and the filter. However, the precision and automatic adjustment of the eyes is no match of any high-quality cameras. For example, the lens in modern cameras is made of special glass or hard plastics with fixed focal distance. When taking pictures for the landscapes with different distances, the lens position must be adjusted. Otherwise, the image will not be produced on the films. But this is an awkward approach. Imagine when the eyes are watching landscapes with different distances, the eyeballs have to protrude or recess alternatively, which looks ugly or damages the health and function of the eyes. However, the crystal in the eyes are transparent and elastic colloid, which can adjust automatically the focal distance in accordance with the distance of the objects to make sure all the objects can be imaged on the retina, without changing the position of the crystal. Such automatic adjustment function can’t be fulfilled by any camera. If we observe the eyes in the perspective of modern TV technologies, the eyes are more like the television camera, but thousands of times more precise than the television cameras. The TV image is composed of dense pixels (the mixed dark or brilliant light spots). Till now, the best TV image only contains less than 1 million pixels. However, the human eyes can produce image containing 20 billion pixels. Only the eyes can see the details of objects. No matter how clear or accurate the image is, it is still a plan view image. Then how the eyes can provide the dimensional image is a key issue of providing the complete vision. But it is not an easy task at all to convert the flat view image into the dimensional one. For a long time, people have been puzzled by how the conversion is done. Of course, we later knew the smartness and delicacy of the human body shown here. The two eyes send the flat view images they receive into the same nerve center, which contrasts and analyzes the images and judges the distance of the objects based on the slight visual angle difference caused by the position difference of the two eyes. Thus the dimensional image is produced. That’s why people have to have 2 eyes to establish the complete vision. Based on such understanding, humans have invented the dimensional movies. But the above is only the external process of how vision is formed. People have little knowledge about how the visual center works inside. We have to admit that the mysteries of human body structure and functions are beyond the intelligence of mankind. As a matter of fact, the distance judgment with two eyes is the triangulation technique which is precise and automatic. The accurate measurement needs two premises. First, the two eyes must focus on one object at the same time. Otherwise, there will be double vision, which means the one objects will be seen as two objects. As a result, the complete neuromuscular system is equipped on the outside of the eyeballs, making the eyeballs the most flexible and accurate organs. The ciliary muscle inside the eyeballs can adjust the conversion rate of the crystal at any time to focus on the object and form the clearest image. Second, the retina of the two eyes must be strictly symmetrical. Otherwise, the image contrast of the two eyes will become impossible. Furthermore, the images received by the two eyes must be transmitted at the same time to the same visual center for contrast and analysis. There are two visual nerves on the left and right side of the brain, supervising respectively the two sides of the vision field. The objects in the left of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the right sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the right side of the brain. The objects in the right of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the left sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the left side of the brain. The two visual nerves contrast the corresponding images coming from the eyes and produce the full-field dimensional images. The pairs of human parts are often symmetrical on the outside. Only the retinas are symmetrical in the same position. Namely, the left side is symmetrical to the left side and the right side symmetrical to the right side of the two retinas. That’s because the light rays come in directly. Otherwise, the visual centers can’t receive the corresponding images or get the coordinated vision. The structural symmetry of the retinas in the two eyes must be accurate to the utmost. Otherwise the images in the two eyes will not comply with each other and the ambiguity will occur. Besides, the corresponding images from the two eyes must be sent to the same visual center. Thus the optic nerves must have the corresponding special structure to realize the cross-transmission of the images. This is the unique “chiasma opticum” unique to the optic nerves. This function is not possessed by any other nervus cerebrospinalis because they don’t handle the information of images and space. If we use the computers and monitoring cameras to simulate the process of human vision, the input network of the computers has to have a similar chiasm. No other design can do it. Judging from the above, we can find all the human organs, structures and functions have shown the supreme wisdom. And these are the ways they should be. Some people think that human body has some useless organs, such as the thymus gland, appendix, tonsil and coccyx, in order to prove the human structure is imperfect. Some people used to believe that these organs were not that useful. Instead, they tend to arouse diseases such as appendicitis and tonsillitis. If these organs are cut off, it will not have much impact on the human body. In the past, people used to classify spleens and other organs into the useless organs. There was a list of useless organs in the past which included over 100 organs. But the list was long not because these organs are useless but because people at the time were ignorant. As more we know about the organs, most of them have been deleted from the list and there are only a few still remain in the list. Some people think that these organs are the leftovers of human evolution, which are called the “waste back organs” and use them as one of the evidences of evolution theory. This is a complete misunderstanding. Till not we have understood there are no such things as the “obsolescent organs”. It is simply the lack of knowledge of these organs. Take the thymus gland as an example. In the past, people didn’t know its function. Now we have understood it is the warning device of the human body against the inner and outer infection sources. As a result, the thymus gland contributes a lot to the human health. Another example, if the coccyx fractures, it will cause serious functional disturbance. So the coccyx is also an imperative part of human body. Some people might say these organs can trigger diseases. Then all human organs can lead to diseases, even brain and heart are of no exceptions. Why don’t we say the brain and heart are useless? Some organs, though they are not as important as the heart and brain and wouldn’t endanger life immediately when eliminated, are also useful. Just like if the hands or feet are lost, though not fatal, the human body is handicapped. After knowing the supreme and smart design of human structures and functions, you might want to know how they come into being. Who has designed and made such sophisticated and precise organs? We cannot avoid the question. Any truth-seeking person would admit that the extremely delicate organs and structures are not produced naturally or accidently. For instance, if someone gives you a top-class camera and tells you it is a natural one without designer or manufacturer; do you think his words are scientific and acceptable? The human body, which is even more delicate, accurate, flexible and practical, must have a supremely wise and capable creator behind it. On a spring Sunday morning in 1954, I saw a young stranger sitting in the chamber of a Church. When we started to talk, I knew that he was a student at Peking Union Medical College. He said to me, “Since I studied anatomy and physiology, I have felt the human body is really a wonder. It is not possible to understand it unless we interpret the wonder with a God.” He came to the church to seek an answer. The wonder of this young man is not the only example. I remember that when I was studying anatomy and physiology in school, some students surrounded our physiology teacher and kept asking him questions. Finally, the teacher, annoyed by so many questions, told us, “Please stop the questions because they will lead to religion in the end.” Because of the special political background at the time, the teacher’s warning silenced all the students. But his warning impressed me deeply and remained in my memory till today. My thought at that time was that the teacher was right because all the things were created by the God. Though he was not a Christian, he had to admit the truth and the further probe into the human body mysteries (part of the Universe mysteries) would definitely lead to the existence of the God (religion) in the end. Otherwise, it would be impossible to explain the wonders of the human body. The Bible says, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.”(1:20 Romans 1) Was the teacher demonstrating his scientific spirit? No. The scientific spirit means the truth and boldly pursuit of the truth without avoiding any controversy. The teacher knew very clearly that one more step forward would lead to the God but he dared not move onto the path towards the truth. Instead, he asked his students to stop there. It has shown that many people refuse to admit the existence of God not because they don’t have the scientific spirit but because of the social pressure, individual consideration for their interest and prospect, just as what the teacher was doing at that time. Nevertheless, the existence of the God would not change. And we cannot live in such considerations for the reality forever. One day in the future, when we have to face the ultimate choice, we will have to face the supreme master who has created the Universe and the human beings. The Bible says, “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” If we don’t accept the immoral God now, we have no excuse when it comes to the day. When we talk about the origin of all things in the Universe, some young people often ask, “You have said the humans are created by the God, then who has created the God?” The analogizing logics seem to be reasonable. But it is not true. Because the God is the creator instead of the created, you can’t link these together. The table is made by the carpenter. But you cannot say the carpenter and the table have the same origin. Human benings’ understand of the God is only limited to the enlightenment from the God to the humans. Otherwise, humans cannot understand the mystery of God’s nature. The God says, “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.” (Exodus 3:14 and Revelation 1:8). For the God, there is only the eternality, and there is no time, beginning or ending. Even in the scientific field, too many analogizing questions won’t be tolerated. One scholar was talking about the belief in the God with his students. One student asked suddenly and proudly, “Where does the Universe come from?” The scholar answers, “The Universe is created by the God.” The student continued to ask, “Who has created the God?” The scholar answered, “The God is Alpha and Omega and I am not created.” The student said, “This is not scientific at all.” The scholar then asked the student, “Where does the Earth come from?” The student answered, “The Earth comes from the Sun.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the Sun come from?” The student answered, “The Sun comes from the Galaxy.” The scholar asked again, “Where does the Galaxy come from?” The student hesitated and answered, “The Galaxy comes from the nature.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the nature come from?” The student couldn’t answer this question and said in anger, “The nature is the nature and comes naturally.” The scholar then laughed, “This is not scientific at all.” So we can conclude that the “scientific” answers are not scientific. Another example is that the sciences tell people that substances are composed of the molecules. Then what are the molecules composed of? The molecules are composed of the atoms. But what are the atoms composed of? They are composed of the electrons, protons and neutrons. Then what are the electrons, protons and neutrons composed of? Till now, we cannot find an answer to this question. The atomic physicists are now working hard to find the “elementary particle”. They are called “basic particles” because the scientists don’t expect the substances to be divided limitlessly. So they believe that one day they will find the ultimate component, the “elementary particle”. Of course, the scientists will not ask such question of “what is something composed of?” This is the extremity and everything ends here. The materialists claim that the Universe is limitless and that the materials are eternal and can be divided limitlessly, etc. They are simply the groundless conclusion of the philosophers. And there is an extremity in their logics, the materials. They say that the materials are Alpha and Omega but can’t tell where the materials come from. Now let’s have a look at the math. All numbers come from 1, followed by 2, 3…. You can’t ask what the 1 is because 1 is 1, and not other numbers. It means that 1 is the origin of all numbers. The Greatest Creator has created all things and the Greatest Creator is the origin of them. It will be meaningless to ask where the Greatest Creator comes from.
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2024.05.19 10:57 jenajiejing The Secret of Human Bodies – Examples Proving the Existence of the Greatest Creator
 | submitted by jenajiejing to primordialtruths [link] [comments] Xue Feng https://preview.redd.it/inye2mb6lc1d1.jpg?width=606&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=91a7161a35c1824c81442d04ca1efb17d2cbda20 Though the modern medicine has limited knowledge of human bodies, what we have known is enough for us to admire the excellent human body structure and functions. Each system and organ in the human body is designed by the Greatest Creator. Even those trivial body parts have great functions. For example, there are several types of hairs on human bodies with distinct forms and functions. The head hair is designed to protect and beautify the head. It can grow long. According to the Bible, “But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” The eyebrows can divert sweat and rain, preventing them into the eyes. That’s why they are lined above the two eyes. Eyelashes can prevent the dust and other things from entering the eyes. That’s why they are lined on the sides of the eyelids. Also they stand forward in a special curve because it wouldn’t hinder the eyesight or pierce into the eyes when closing the eyes. If the eyebrows and eyelashes are too long, they will hinder the eyesight. That’s why they wouldn’t grow as long as the hair or beards. The nasal hairs can filter the inhaled air. That’s why they grow inside the nostril and stand sideways and outwards. If they stand inwards, the other things will find it easy to come into the nostrils and difficult to go out. The armpit hairs can prevent the partial friction and help the sweat evaporate. Without the armpit hairs, we have to raise our arms. Otherwise the skin under the arm will become inflamed because of the friction and moist. Required by the function, the armpit hairs cannot grow as long as the head hairs, or as short as the eyebrows. Besides, they are soft and curving. If they are rigid and coarse, they will hurt the skin. And cilia grow on the intestinal epithelium. The cilia grow downward and vibrate together. The vibrating waves move downward from upward to help move down the intestinal contents. Cilia also grow on the airway and bronchus epithelium. However, they grow and vibrate in the opposite direction as those on the intestinal epithelium. Only in this way can they move the sputum upward to the throat and spit them. If they grow downward, the airway and bronchus would get stuck by the sputum and the humans would die from it. Now I wish to take two simple reflections of human bodies as an example. When foreign matters enter the nostrils or airways, they will arouse two protective reflections, sneeze or cough, which is designed to repel the foreign matters. But due to different situation, these two reflections differ in their approaches. The foreign matters in the nostrils are not urgent so the sneeze reflection can be prepared in a composed way. First, inhale slowly; open the mouth, and the soft place move upward to block the nostril. Then breathe in enough air through the mouth, and the pleural body contracts sharply to emit the air in the lungs quickly. When the emitting reaches its peak, the tongue rises abruptly to block the mouth to repel the air to go out swiftly through the nostrils. In this way the foreign matters in the nostrils are driven out. However, if the foreign matters enter the airway, it is an emergent situation. If the foreign matters are not driven out timely, the life will be put at risk. The inhaling is strictly forbidden because it will make the foreign matters go deeper and cause suffocation. So the cough doesn’t include the inhaling. Instead, the glottis closes immediately. At the same time, the pleural body contracts suddenly and adds the lung air pressure extremely. When the pressure is at its strongest point, the glottis opens suddenly and the lung air sends out explosively, compelling the foreign matters in the airway to the throat via the glottis. At this time, the soft place rises to block the nostrils. The foreign matters are spit out through the mouth. If the tongue and the soft place perform the same way as in the sneeze, the foreign matters emitted out of the airway will enter the nostrils, causing another trouble. In these two reflections, the body parts must cooperate closely. Any failure in the coordination will lead to the failure of the reflection, causing serious consequences. So these activities are not done freely. Instead, they are done as required by their functions and set procedures. These procedures are not learnt or practices. The program has been rooted in our brain nerve structure (nerve nucleus) when we are born. Otherwise, the babies will not survive. The advanced computer science has made it possible to simulate these activities. However, the simulation requires 3 conditions: 1. Device simulating the inhale and exhaling of human mouth, nose, throat, pleural and the sensing device; 2. The central control equipment simulating nerves and body system (compute, input and output devices). The above two devices are hardware. And software is also needed, namely (3). A program composed in strict compliance with the requirements to control the performance and procedure of each link, and arrange them in perfect coordination. All the three conditions are imperative. Otherwise the reflections can’t be realized. The program itself is not a substance structure. Instead, it is a smart use and spiritual result. There will be no such a thing as the program without the smart use. So we have to ask, the program is composed by the humans and stored in the computer, how about the control program in the human brain. Is it also composed by someone and stored in the human brain? Sneeze and cough are the simplest examples. There are numerous automatically controlled physical, bio-chemical and pathological human body activities, which are even more sophisticated than reflections of cough. Even today, some of them remain mysteries to us. So how are these sophisticated control programs composed? And where do they come from? Now let’s have a look at the sensory organs on human bodies. Why do we have two ears? The reason is that one ear is not able to identify the direction. With the ears lying on two sides of the head, the sound reaches the ears in sequence of time. Based on the slight receiving time difference, the brain can judge where the sound comes from. The auricle is the most outward component of the ear. It can introduce the sound into the external auditory canal. Within the auricle there is a thin layer of cartilage helping to retain the form of auricle, giving it wonderful elasticity and protecting it from the clashes. Without the cartilage, the auricle is just two useless pieces of skin hanging on the head side. If the thin bone is inside the auricle, it will break easily even if when you are sleeping on your side, damaging the auricle. There is fuzz on the outer segment of the external auditory canal preventing the sand and dust. The inner segment secretes cerumen to prevent insects. When foreign matters enter the external auditory canal, it will trigger head shaking, instead of sneeze or cough, to get the matters out. Because the external auditory canal is a blind passage, it is impossible to repel the foreign matters with air. Why don’t the foreign matters in the nostrils arouse the head-shaking reflection to repel them? That’s because the nostrils of humans almost lie in the middle of the head. The shaking is not able to produce enough centrifugal force. Besides, the human nostrils face downward and it is improper to repel the foreign matters by shaking the head. The sound is produced by the mechanical vibration of objects and is transmitted by the air fluctuation, or the sound waves. The human ears are actually working like a precise mechanical vibration monitor. In the inner ear there are a number of keyboards with different sizes, producing nerve impulses produced by echoing with corresponding frequencies. The brain, in accordance with the features of these impulses, identifies the strength, tunes and timbre of the sounds. We must note though there are many sensory organs in human bodies, only the inner ear is protected by the most solid and firm bones. In fact, it lies in the cave part of the temporal bone. Of all the sensory organs, only the ears monitor the mechanical vibration, which needs a relatively fixed position. Otherwise, it is not able to monitor the sound. If the inner ear lies in the soft tissues, when the sound wave arrives, the inner ear will vibrate with it. Thus it can hear nothing. Now the inner ear lies in the firm bone and it can’t sense the air vibration. So it is imperative to reduce the density waves to the mechanical vibrations before sending them to the inner ear. And there is such a reduction device at the middle bottom of the external auditory canal, which is called the eardrum. The eardrum has enough space to receive the air pressure. It is thin enough to vibrate when the sound wave arrives. Meanwhile, the eardrum is strong enough to push the transmission device. The long handle of the middle ear cartilage is attached to its inner side, the tensile force of which makes the eardrum sink inside slightly to maintain certain tension. This allows the eardrum to accurately reduce the arriving sound waves into the mechanical vibrations. No matter what the temperature is, the vibration function is not impacted. After the sound waves are reduced into the mechanical vibration, some rigid objects are needed to transmit the vibration to the inner ear. Of all body tissues, the most rigid objects are the bones. However, the bones are heavy in general and covered by the soft tissues, which are not suitable for the audio vibration. However, in the tympanic cavity between the eardrum and the inner ear, there are three unique tiny bones with delicate forms measured in millimeters. They are almost completely exposed to the air in the tympanic cavity. These three tiny bones are connected by ligament and form a transmission chain in curve with excellent audio vibration function, able to transmit accurately the vibration of the eardrum to the inner ear. The transmission device can properly multiply the weak vibration and reduce the strong sound wave. All of these structures are the super designs required by the acoustics. There are even smarter designs in the hearing organ. For example, to make the eardrum vibrate freely following the arriving sound waves, the two sides of the eardrums must be exposed to the air. As a result, there is a tympanic cavity full of air in the middle ear. If the cavity is filled by liquids, just as other cavities are, the eardrum is not able to vibrate because the liquids can’t contract. Besides, the cavity does not only need to be filled with air, but also needs to be connected to the outside world with a proper passage, to balance the static air pressure in the cavity with the outside air pressure. Otherwise, the air in the cavity will gradually be absorbed, causing the eardrum to sink excessively or damaging it. When the outside air pressure changes, (such as in mountain climbing, diving, the airplane takeoff or climate change), it will arouse uncomfortable feelings or lead to hearing malfunction. But the middle ear can’t be opened to the outside world directly, just like the external auditory canal or nostrils can. The reason is that the direct exposure will make the arriving waving sound reach the two sides of the eardrums at the same time via the external auditory canal and middle ear passage, counteracting the sound pressure. Thus the eardrums will not vibrate at all, unable to produce the hearing. So it is a difficult problem to connect the middle ear and the outside world. However, the human body, with a smart design, solves this problem. The middle ear is opened at the two sides in the upper rear of the pharynx via a half-opened passage (the so-called auditory tube). The auditory tube is locked in common times and only opened temporarily when taking the swallowing actions, balancing the air pressure in the middle ear shortly. After the swallowing action is over, the auditory tube is locked again. Apart from eating, human body would regularly take swallowing action unconsciously, even when he or she is sleeping. Thus the air pressure in the middle ear can be adjusted from time to time and avoid the hearing from being hindered. Besides, when swallowing, the swallowing segment and the soft palate will definitely rise, blocking the mouth and nostrils against the outside world. So on the moment when the ear and throat are opened shortly, though the air in the throat can enter the middle ear, the sound waves from the outside world are blocked against the middle ear. As a result, the hearing will not be interfered and can receive the outside sound and voice. Only the throat in the body can meet the special demand of the hearing organs. The throat is originally designed as part of the digestion and breathing system, it does not belong to sensory system. However, it can cooperate so smartly with the hearing organs. We have to admire the extremely delicate body-wise design. The vestibule in the inner ear controls the balance of the body. In the vestibule there are 3 semicircular canals. When the body loses balance, the mutually-vertical semicircular canals produce the balance impulse, which triggers the corresponding reflection via the balance center in the medulla brain. Why are there 3 semicircular canals instead of 2 or 4? And why are they mutually vertical? The reason is apparent. Humans live in the 3-dimensional space. There are 3 mutually-vertical movement directions, namely, front and rear, left and right, upward and downward. So the 3 mutually-vertical semicircular canals can monitor the movements. The number less than 3 or more than 3 would be insufficient or redundant. We can see the delicate and smart structure and function, and the supreme wisdom in them. They can’t be the accidental results. As the most important perception of human bodies, vision provides more information than that provided by all other perceptions. The vision is the perception of image and space and the visual organs must have the most precise and accurate structure completely different from other sensory organs. As a result, in the perspective of the embryo-genesis or neuro-anatomy, the main structure of the eyes is not just the common receptor. Instead, it is part of the cerebral cortex. The so-called optic nerves are completely different from other cerebrospinal nerves. In essence, the optic nerves are inner structure in the brain, transmitting the most sophisticated visual information. The eyes function like a precise camera. The retina composed of the photoreceptor cells is just like the films. The crystal, iris and the cornea works like the lens, diaphragm and the filter. However, the precision and automatic adjustment of the eyes is no match of any high-quality cameras. For example, the lens in modern cameras is made of special glass or hard plastics with fixed focal distance. When taking pictures for the landscapes with different distances, the lens position must be adjusted. Otherwise, the image will not be produced on the films. But this is an awkward approach. Imagine when the eyes are watching landscapes with different distances, the eyeballs have to protrude or recess alternatively, which looks ugly or damages the health and function of the eyes. However, the crystal in the eyes are transparent and elastic colloid, which can adjust automatically the focal distance in accordance with the distance of the objects to make sure all the objects can be imaged on the retina, without changing the position of the crystal. Such automatic adjustment function can’t be fulfilled by any camera. If we observe the eyes in the perspective of modern TV technologies, the eyes are more like the television camera, but thousands of times more precise than the television cameras. The TV image is composed of dense pixels (the mixed dark or brilliant light spots). Till now, the best TV image only contains less than 1 million pixels. However, the human eyes can produce image containing 20 billion pixels. Only the eyes can see the details of objects. No matter how clear or accurate the image is, it is still a plan view image. Then how the eyes can provide the dimensional image is a key issue of providing the complete vision. But it is not an easy task at all to convert the flat view image into the dimensional one. For a long time, people have been puzzled by how the conversion is done. Of course, we later knew the smartness and delicacy of the human body shown here. The two eyes send the flat view images they receive into the same nerve center, which contrasts and analyzes the images and judges the distance of the objects based on the slight visual angle difference caused by the position difference of the two eyes. Thus the dimensional image is produced. That’s why people have to have 2 eyes to establish the complete vision. Based on such understanding, humans have invented the dimensional movies. But the above is only the external process of how vision is formed. People have little knowledge about how the visual center works inside. We have to admit that the mysteries of human body structure and functions are beyond the intelligence of mankind. As a matter of fact, the distance judgment with two eyes is the triangulation technique which is precise and automatic. The accurate measurement needs two premises. First, the two eyes must focus on one object at the same time. Otherwise, there will be double vision, which means the one objects will be seen as two objects. As a result, the complete neuromuscular system is equipped on the outside of the eyeballs, making the eyeballs the most flexible and accurate organs. The ciliary muscle inside the eyeballs can adjust the conversion rate of the crystal at any time to focus on the object and form the clearest image. Second, the retina of the two eyes must be strictly symmetrical. Otherwise, the image contrast of the two eyes will become impossible. Furthermore, the images received by the two eyes must be transmitted at the same time to the same visual center for contrast and analysis. There are two visual nerves on the left and right side of the brain, supervising respectively the two sides of the vision field. The objects in the left of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the right sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the right side of the brain. The objects in the right of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the left sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the left side of the brain. The two visual nerves contrast the corresponding images coming from the eyes and produce the full-field dimensional images. The pairs of human parts are often symmetrical on the outside. Only the retinas are symmetrical in the same position. Namely, the left side is symmetrical to the left side and the right side symmetrical to the right side of the two retinas. That’s because the light rays come in directly. Otherwise, the visual centers can’t receive the corresponding images or get the coordinated vision. The structural symmetry of the retinas in the two eyes must be accurate to the utmost. Otherwise the images in the two eyes will not comply with each other and the ambiguity will occur. Besides, the corresponding images from the two eyes must be sent to the same visual center. Thus the optic nerves must have the corresponding special structure to realize the cross-transmission of the images. This is the unique “chiasma opticum” unique to the optic nerves. This function is not possessed by any other nervus cerebrospinalis because they don’t handle the information of images and space. If we use the computers and monitoring cameras to simulate the process of human vision, the input network of the computers has to have a similar chiasm. No other design can do it. Judging from the above, we can find all the human organs, structures and functions have shown the supreme wisdom. And these are the ways they should be. Some people think that human body has some useless organs, such as the thymus gland, appendix, tonsil and coccyx, in order to prove the human structure is imperfect. Some people used to believe that these organs were not that useful. Instead, they tend to arouse diseases such as appendicitis and tonsillitis. If these organs are cut off, it will not have much impact on the human body. In the past, people used to classify spleens and other organs into the useless organs. There was a list of useless organs in the past which included over 100 organs. But the list was long not because these organs are useless but because people at the time were ignorant. As more we know about the organs, most of them have been deleted from the list and there are only a few still remain in the list. Some people think that these organs are the leftovers of human evolution, which are called the “waste back organs” and use them as one of the evidences of evolution theory. This is a complete misunderstanding. Till not we have understood there are no such things as the “obsolescent organs”. It is simply the lack of knowledge of these organs. Take the thymus gland as an example. In the past, people didn’t know its function. Now we have understood it is the warning device of the human body against the inner and outer infection sources. As a result, the thymus gland contributes a lot to the human health. Another example, if the coccyx fractures, it will cause serious functional disturbance. So the coccyx is also an imperative part of human body. Some people might say these organs can trigger diseases. Then all human organs can lead to diseases, even brain and heart are of no exceptions. Why don’t we say the brain and heart are useless? Some organs, though they are not as important as the heart and brain and wouldn’t endanger life immediately when eliminated, are also useful. Just like if the hands or feet are lost, though not fatal, the human body is handicapped. After knowing the supreme and smart design of human structures and functions, you might want to know how they come into being. Who has designed and made such sophisticated and precise organs? We cannot avoid the question. Any truth-seeking person would admit that the extremely delicate organs and structures are not produced naturally or accidently. For instance, if someone gives you a top-class camera and tells you it is a natural one without designer or manufacturer; do you think his words are scientific and acceptable? The human body, which is even more delicate, accurate, flexible and practical, must have a supremely wise and capable creator behind it. On a spring Sunday morning in 1954, I saw a young stranger sitting in the chamber of a Church. When we started to talk, I knew that he was a student at Peking Union Medical College. He said to me, “Since I studied anatomy and physiology, I have felt the human body is really a wonder. It is not possible to understand it unless we interpret the wonder with a God.” He came to the church to seek an answer. The wonder of this young man is not the only example. I remember that when I was studying anatomy and physiology in school, some students surrounded our physiology teacher and kept asking him questions. Finally, the teacher, annoyed by so many questions, told us, “Please stop the questions because they will lead to religion in the end.” Because of the special political background at the time, the teacher’s warning silenced all the students. But his warning impressed me deeply and remained in my memory till today. My thought at that time was that the teacher was right because all the things were created by the God. Though he was not a Christian, he had to admit the truth and the further probe into the human body mysteries (part of the Universe mysteries) would definitely lead to the existence of the God (religion) in the end. Otherwise, it would be impossible to explain the wonders of the human body. The Bible says, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.”(1:20 Romans 1) Was the teacher demonstrating his scientific spirit? No. The scientific spirit means the truth and boldly pursuit of the truth without avoiding any controversy. The teacher knew very clearly that one more step forward would lead to the God but he dared not move onto the path towards the truth. Instead, he asked his students to stop there. It has shown that many people refuse to admit the existence of God not because they don’t have the scientific spirit but because of the social pressure, individual consideration for their interest and prospect, just as what the teacher was doing at that time. Nevertheless, the existence of the God would not change. And we cannot live in such considerations for the reality forever. One day in the future, when we have to face the ultimate choice, we will have to face the supreme master who has created the Universe and the human beings. The Bible says, “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” If we don’t accept the immoral God now, we have no excuse when it comes to the day. When we talk about the origin of all things in the Universe, some young people often ask, “You have said the humans are created by the God, then who has created the God?” The analogizing logics seem to be reasonable. But it is not true. Because the God is the creator instead of the created, you can’t link these together. The table is made by the carpenter. But you cannot say the carpenter and the table have the same origin. Human benings’ understand of the God is only limited to the enlightenment from the God to the humans. Otherwise, humans cannot understand the mystery of God’s nature. The God says, “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.” (Exodus 3:14 and Revelation 1:8). For the God, there is only the eternality, and there is no time, beginning or ending. Even in the scientific field, too many analogizing questions won’t be tolerated. One scholar was talking about the belief in the God with his students. One student asked suddenly and proudly, “Where does the Universe come from?” The scholar answers, “The Universe is created by the God.” The student continued to ask, “Who has created the God?” The scholar answered, “The God is Alpha and Omega and I am not created.” The student said, “This is not scientific at all.” The scholar then asked the student, “Where does the Earth come from?” The student answered, “The Earth comes from the Sun.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the Sun come from?” The student answered, “The Sun comes from the Galaxy.” The scholar asked again, “Where does the Galaxy come from?” The student hesitated and answered, “The Galaxy comes from the nature.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the nature come from?” The student couldn’t answer this question and said in anger, “The nature is the nature and comes naturally.” The scholar then laughed, “This is not scientific at all.” So we can conclude that the “scientific” answers are not scientific. Another example is that the sciences tell people that substances are composed of the molecules. Then what are the molecules composed of? The molecules are composed of the atoms. But what are the atoms composed of? They are composed of the electrons, protons and neutrons. Then what are the electrons, protons and neutrons composed of? Till now, we cannot find an answer to this question. The atomic physicists are now working hard to find the “elementary particle”. They are called “basic particles” because the scientists don’t expect the substances to be divided limitlessly. So they believe that one day they will find the ultimate component, the “elementary particle”. Of course, the scientists will not ask such question of “what is something composed of?” This is the extremity and everything ends here. The materialists claim that the Universe is limitless and that the materials are eternal and can be divided limitlessly, etc. They are simply the groundless conclusion of the philosophers. And there is an extremity in their logics, the materials. They say that the materials are Alpha and Omega but can’t tell where the materials come from. Now let’s have a look at the math. All numbers come from 1, followed by 2, 3…. You can’t ask what the 1 is because 1 is 1, and not other numbers. It means that 1 is the origin of all numbers. The Greatest Creator has created all things and the Greatest Creator is the origin of them. It will be meaningless to ask where the Greatest Creator comes from. |
2024.05.19 10:54 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 was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
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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 was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
2024.05.19 10:48 Amazing-Designer858 Help
 | Sorry for the weird collage, but this was the best I could do. This isn’t even it all, but from all over my body- sides, pelvis area, back of neck, armpit, eyelid, chin, forehead, back of leg. I have had this issue since my 2nd daughter was born almost 5 years ago. My husband has thought it was ringworm or some sort of fungal infection- not sure about that because I’ve had ringworm before. On top of that, I’ve thought it could be eczema or psoriasis but all 3 of these things supposedly are itchy. Mine never itch. Ive had flairups here and there over the past few years but I feel like this is the worst it has ever been. It’s behind my ear, in my hairline, on my back, legitimately the only place it hasn’t been is my hands and feet. I even had it pretty bad in my buttcrack a few months ago (like more than 5). I’ve used tinactin and anti fungal cream which kinda made it better but I also used goldbond eczema cream that kinda made it better. It’s so difficult for me to figure out what this is for so many reasons and I know the only way to know for absolute certain is to go to the dermatologist, but that’s not something I can do right now. Anyone deal with the same thing? Thanks in advance!!! submitted by Amazing-Designer858 to skin [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 10:32 Complex-Addition-513 Shadows and Echoes
In the heart of Chicago, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets pulsed with life, there lived a man named Victor Kane. At 26 years old and a startling 6'3" in stature, Victor commanded attention effortlessly. His piercing gaze seemed to see through the very fabric of one's soul, and his knowing, flirtatious smirk hinted at secrets that few could ever fathom. Victor was a man of many faces, each one carefully crafted and expertly worn to blend into any situation, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. Each interaction with another human was as if it were another painting to be hung in the Art Institute of Chicago, a masterpiece of social maneuvering and charm.
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.
submitted by Complex-Addition-513 to creativewriting [link] [comments]
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.
2024.05.19 10:20 AdvertisingOk9337 Dry skin - Tinea Versicolor?
19M, 90-100kg, from a SEA country.
Got some discolouration and roughness of skin around the chest area last October. It typically presented as a brown-ish color on my skin. However, after exercise, it would be red instead Was diagnosed with Tinea Versicolor and received topical antifungal Mycoban. It helped to control the spread but not eliminate it. Since then, i had tried oral antifungal medication and a special antidandruff shampoo but both are not very effective in their results.
Recently, the nature of my work resulted in me having to wear unclean clothing for days while staying outdoors. The rash spread to the rest of my chest, back, neck, nether regions and arms. They seem to congregate closer to the folds on my body as well as my armpits and belly buttons. Apart from the brown-ish spots, they also present with extremely dry skin which has caused a lot of pain for me. Currently, i require painkillers and loads of moisturiser to be able to sleep, and i only average 3-4hours a day because of the pain.
Under the sun, my skin itches badly. I also develop red patches that have bumps on it. These patches are extremely painful under sun. I have photos but I am not allowed to post under this subreddit. They can be found in my profile (SFW)
Please tell me if this is tinea versicolor and how i could finally save myself
submitted by AdvertisingOk9337 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Got some discolouration and roughness of skin around the chest area last October. It typically presented as a brown-ish color on my skin. However, after exercise, it would be red instead Was diagnosed with Tinea Versicolor and received topical antifungal Mycoban. It helped to control the spread but not eliminate it. Since then, i had tried oral antifungal medication and a special antidandruff shampoo but both are not very effective in their results.
Recently, the nature of my work resulted in me having to wear unclean clothing for days while staying outdoors. The rash spread to the rest of my chest, back, neck, nether regions and arms. They seem to congregate closer to the folds on my body as well as my armpits and belly buttons. Apart from the brown-ish spots, they also present with extremely dry skin which has caused a lot of pain for me. Currently, i require painkillers and loads of moisturiser to be able to sleep, and i only average 3-4hours a day because of the pain.
Under the sun, my skin itches badly. I also develop red patches that have bumps on it. These patches are extremely painful under sun. I have photos but I am not allowed to post under this subreddit. They can be found in my profile (SFW)
Please tell me if this is tinea versicolor and how i could finally save myself
2024.05.19 10:16 ChristLover10 The Last Child (Fanfic)
(Part 2 out now)
I woke up with a cough of blood and pain. I felt something metal with my hands as I looked down. A long stint of rebar poked out of my ribcage and through my chest plate, covered in a mix of my blood and the bile of a bug.
I reached down and grabbed my Senator, feeling its trusty weight in my hands. I haphazardly tried to place the barrel against the portion of rebar sticking out of my back. This had better work, I thought. I pulled the trigger once and with a loud Crack I felt the vibration from the shot in my stomach. I tried to choke down vomit and pulled the trigger twice more Crack, Crack. With the third shot the rebar gave way and I rolled to my side and collapsed on the ground. Agony shot through my body as I hit the dirt.
I realized then, Hmmph, they left me. During Extraction one of the other divers called in a 500kg as we were about to board Pelican 1. She had thrown it over one of those damned chargers in an effort to kill one last bug but... it started charging us. I was the last one in line and just as I was about to board... i was thrown 200 feet away from extraction site. I don't blame them. I'd have left me too. We had successfully evacuated a number of scientists and other military personnel, but we'd lost the planet. No hard feelings I guess.
I tried to pull my mind away from those thoughts and just focused on one. Survive. I pulled myself to my knees and looked at the rebar again. Cant park there bud, I thought tryna cheer myself up. I had dropped my senator when I fell and ended up with two free hands. I reached down and with the assistance of my servo-assited armor prepared to wrench the rebar from my chest. Alright, count of three, I thought. One my heartrate quickened. Two I adjusted my grip ever so slightly. Three I ripped the metal rod out and felt a hot stinging pain shoot through my body. I quickly grabbed a stim and applied it.
I winced as the stim numbed my broken ribs and began rapidly working to heal them and my open chest wound. After a couple seconds, I could stand.
I took quick stock of my inventory. My Senator with 23 rounds left, two ration packs, a canteen of water, 1 stim, a knife, and a bag of oatmeal. Oatmeal? Seriously? I'd rather have ammo but... beggars can't be choosers.
I looked around me. Snow and beaten down rubble surrounded me. This was some kind of research station, I think. Didn't bother grabbing the name. Cold as hell and nothing really around to get my bearings. Great. I thought. Im gonna die inside a freezer. I started looking through the rubble for anything useful. I found a corpse of one of the scientists that hadn't made it to evac. I grabbed the ID card off his jacket. Figured It'd get me inside a building if there were any left standing. I crawled out of the rubble and onto the snowy tundra.
The sun had set and with it most of the light I would've been able to utilize. I scanned the horizon for a blinking light. Blinking like meant beacon. Beacon meant possible radio, maybe some ammo. I clocked one to the southwest and began walking that direction senator drawn.
I spotted a few distant bug patrols illuminated by moonlight but they had no interest in me. I kept my head down and kept moving towards the light. Details started to take shape and I could see this was a research station. Perfect I thought.
I reached the door and used the key card. There was a Beep and the red light flashed green. The door cracked open before jamming. Oh no you dont, I thought and with one hand yanked the door open. I closed it behind me with the same hand to keep the wildlife disinterested.
Inside was dark and damp. I had lost the seal integrity on my suit so there was barely any oxygen regulation. Didn't need it on this planet but still, it's a bitch to fix. I turned my flashlight on and started scanning the room for a light switch. I found one but wouldn't ya know it... dead. At least the beacon had power. I walked over to the radio and pulled off my helmet. I wedged the flashlight in my neck and leaned my head to the side. I started flipping switches and turning dials to see if there was a response. Nothing. Id have to find the master terminal. I grabbed the flashlight and donned my helmet again. I began scanning the room again before I heard it. A little shuffle behind me. I turned quickly and drew my senator raising it at the source of the sound.
It was a small child. At least... thats what it appeared to be. At first glance I could see bindings on its legs and arms. A hospital gown with little ducklings on it and a teddy bear tucked under its arm. I lowered my senator as it spoke.
"Dr. Mehon told me to wait here. He said hed be right back."
Dr. Mehon was probably dead I thought. I knelt down and put my hand on the child's shoulder. "Whats your name kid?"
"3". I felt a rage build up. I swallowed it quickly.
"Well 3, what uh... why.. why do you have bin.." I stopped myself. Whatever those scientists were doing here...
3 looked up at me and I noticed it. A cat like set of eyes. Other little details started to click as well. Four fingers on each hand, slightly pointed ears, a discoloration of skin and a rigid scale-like spine on the shoulder.
"The radio doesnt work mister." 3 seemed to have understood their situation. "Dr Mehon destroyed it before he left."
I realized then that it was unlikely either of us would make it off this planet alive.
EDIT: Part 2 out now! (Part 2's a lil shorter) I Didnt think itd get this many upvotes and comments. Ill keep writing then. Feel free to suggest names for 3!
submitted by ChristLover10 to LowSodiumHellDivers [link] [comments]
I woke up with a cough of blood and pain. I felt something metal with my hands as I looked down. A long stint of rebar poked out of my ribcage and through my chest plate, covered in a mix of my blood and the bile of a bug.
I reached down and grabbed my Senator, feeling its trusty weight in my hands. I haphazardly tried to place the barrel against the portion of rebar sticking out of my back. This had better work, I thought. I pulled the trigger once and with a loud Crack I felt the vibration from the shot in my stomach. I tried to choke down vomit and pulled the trigger twice more Crack, Crack. With the third shot the rebar gave way and I rolled to my side and collapsed on the ground. Agony shot through my body as I hit the dirt.
I realized then, Hmmph, they left me. During Extraction one of the other divers called in a 500kg as we were about to board Pelican 1. She had thrown it over one of those damned chargers in an effort to kill one last bug but... it started charging us. I was the last one in line and just as I was about to board... i was thrown 200 feet away from extraction site. I don't blame them. I'd have left me too. We had successfully evacuated a number of scientists and other military personnel, but we'd lost the planet. No hard feelings I guess.
I tried to pull my mind away from those thoughts and just focused on one. Survive. I pulled myself to my knees and looked at the rebar again. Cant park there bud, I thought tryna cheer myself up. I had dropped my senator when I fell and ended up with two free hands. I reached down and with the assistance of my servo-assited armor prepared to wrench the rebar from my chest. Alright, count of three, I thought. One my heartrate quickened. Two I adjusted my grip ever so slightly. Three I ripped the metal rod out and felt a hot stinging pain shoot through my body. I quickly grabbed a stim and applied it.
I winced as the stim numbed my broken ribs and began rapidly working to heal them and my open chest wound. After a couple seconds, I could stand.
I took quick stock of my inventory. My Senator with 23 rounds left, two ration packs, a canteen of water, 1 stim, a knife, and a bag of oatmeal. Oatmeal? Seriously? I'd rather have ammo but... beggars can't be choosers.
I looked around me. Snow and beaten down rubble surrounded me. This was some kind of research station, I think. Didn't bother grabbing the name. Cold as hell and nothing really around to get my bearings. Great. I thought. Im gonna die inside a freezer. I started looking through the rubble for anything useful. I found a corpse of one of the scientists that hadn't made it to evac. I grabbed the ID card off his jacket. Figured It'd get me inside a building if there were any left standing. I crawled out of the rubble and onto the snowy tundra.
The sun had set and with it most of the light I would've been able to utilize. I scanned the horizon for a blinking light. Blinking like meant beacon. Beacon meant possible radio, maybe some ammo. I clocked one to the southwest and began walking that direction senator drawn.
I spotted a few distant bug patrols illuminated by moonlight but they had no interest in me. I kept my head down and kept moving towards the light. Details started to take shape and I could see this was a research station. Perfect I thought.
I reached the door and used the key card. There was a Beep and the red light flashed green. The door cracked open before jamming. Oh no you dont, I thought and with one hand yanked the door open. I closed it behind me with the same hand to keep the wildlife disinterested.
Inside was dark and damp. I had lost the seal integrity on my suit so there was barely any oxygen regulation. Didn't need it on this planet but still, it's a bitch to fix. I turned my flashlight on and started scanning the room for a light switch. I found one but wouldn't ya know it... dead. At least the beacon had power. I walked over to the radio and pulled off my helmet. I wedged the flashlight in my neck and leaned my head to the side. I started flipping switches and turning dials to see if there was a response. Nothing. Id have to find the master terminal. I grabbed the flashlight and donned my helmet again. I began scanning the room again before I heard it. A little shuffle behind me. I turned quickly and drew my senator raising it at the source of the sound.
It was a small child. At least... thats what it appeared to be. At first glance I could see bindings on its legs and arms. A hospital gown with little ducklings on it and a teddy bear tucked under its arm. I lowered my senator as it spoke.
"Dr. Mehon told me to wait here. He said hed be right back."
Dr. Mehon was probably dead I thought. I knelt down and put my hand on the child's shoulder. "Whats your name kid?"
"3". I felt a rage build up. I swallowed it quickly.
"Well 3, what uh... why.. why do you have bin.." I stopped myself. Whatever those scientists were doing here...
3 looked up at me and I noticed it. A cat like set of eyes. Other little details started to click as well. Four fingers on each hand, slightly pointed ears, a discoloration of skin and a rigid scale-like spine on the shoulder.
"The radio doesnt work mister." 3 seemed to have understood their situation. "Dr Mehon destroyed it before he left."
I realized then that it was unlikely either of us would make it off this planet alive.
EDIT: Part 2 out now! (Part 2's a lil shorter) I Didnt think itd get this many upvotes and comments. Ill keep writing then. Feel free to suggest names for 3!
2024.05.19 09:29 Secret-Tomatillo5044 I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web pt1
I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.
submitted by Secret-Tomatillo5044 to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.
2024.05.19 08:52 Wolfwarrior121892 Poem I wrote
Can anyone tell me if I am the only one . Is it me am I the problem? I don’t know what to believe anymore I wanna know someone give me a reason an explanation fuck give me an excuse for all the moments in my life that pain so white hot and intense has wracked my body and brought me to my knees when my will to live has been brought face to face with my darkest fear. Where the only words i can hear as death whispers in my ear is my name sweetly spoken in promises of a quiet mind and peace. Can anyone hear me is this thing on. My fear is fading out and I know I should be scared at this but I don’t feel fear the same anymore. it is blurring around the edges and starts to look a lot like comfort something I just can’t seem to find or hold in my grasp, and I tell myself I should be scared at this but my soul is battered and bruised and I am running on fumes.I honestly don’t know how many more days I can wake up to this bleakness of my uncomfterably painful existence. Is my pain all in my head. Did I do something that has led the People i love to mishandle me. Do I deserve to be wrecked every day the minute consciousness returns to this weapon that is my brain. Ive torn myself apart so many times ive made myself BLEED. ive let my pain soak into me till I no longer existed in space, gone without a trace. I try so hard to do no harm. As I am falling apart. I pour and pour from my empty cup. Its been empty from my fucking start. My dad was the first to mishandle my fragle new heart. He is where my cracks did start. Home was a battle field amd my skin was where my father’s anger would wage war. I grew up being told I held the golden cup full of my father’s favor. It never would save my skin from his anger. And I was told, no reminded often, how wicked I had been to the first being my heart ever truly let in. I grew up feeling every blow they took wrapped in guilt savagely placed on my heart to go along with my skins own marks. I was Twice whipped but only one would ever heal the other would bleed me every day even till today. At 8 is when death would first whisper my name to me . I never knew never would he ever depart from my mind and heart. At 9 so small and yet already my soul felt so heavy. My wounded little family grew by one. And traveled miles back to where my first cry had taken place. Where I would be born again and die more than one time. 9 taking on a little one. The second soul who would come to know my heart. Cherished and so loved even before air would give raise to his own challenging start. My mother would finish the killing of me without stopping my heart. The tiny soul I had hoped for was ripped away from me unexpectedly. Given away to have a chance, a brand new start , Or so that is what was said. 17 years I would mourn this everyday feeling like a piece of me was lost. By 11 melancholy would already call me home. School the escape from the war at home had become a battlefield of its own. And wounds would be added to the collection that had started. My first brush with a razor and a mans warped desires would fall in this timeframe not too far apart. Ill never know why my mother would make guilt and not love in me grow. Love for my parents I have felt from the start and still with each mark on my heart they would leave on me, the only thing I would ever bleed is my desire that they would want me.that they would love me. Can a child grow up too young? I don’t think I grew up tho. Ive been trapped in the tiny body that never had a real chance to start. By 15 I had lost both parents and one sibling already I was torn apart and bleeding. My wounded heart festering as it began to rot. The razor blades became my closest friends. At least when they marked my skin, I had wanted it then. They always stayed and helped me cradle my already too heavy pain. They knew what I would feel and that it was real. They went in deeper,beneath my surface on purpose. Something no one else wanted to do or so it would seem to me that no one really wanted me. My first love found in a man would be one that would feel much like my dad. Hands too rough and words never in the only shape Ive ever really wanted L O V E He Left more torn up marks on my heart. Heartbreak at 16, you would think i would have welcomed it like an old friend . that I would have tucked it up besides my heart hidden beneath my ribs, where pain was already rattling around in. pain makes us seek out comfort wrapped in deceit. I looked to the arms that made me weep for comfort. I never would find comfort there. for me there all I found are things that broke me. 16 I was 16 when the first piece of me truly died. I watched it die in her eyes. as the words scorching up my throat and heart left my lips. I watched as they connected the dots of things that mothers should not behind her eyes as the piece of me died. I was a daughter never cherished by my father, pain the only thing he gave for me to gain. I was a daughter never loved by my Mother given to men and left to defend alone the monsters my mother let in. Pain separated me from bonds that should have been. I would later see that the monsters I fought inside of me had always really been me . I grew up lonely both on the battlefield I was forced to Fight to survive in real life and inside the prison bar confides of my own mind. I fought and waged war constantly never knowing the enemy I had been fighting the whole time was always me. I don’t know who I am I died before I got the chance to even begin . Love is supposed to fill up your heart and shape you into the person you are. Teach you to swim in the depths of our own emotions. I never learned how to swim in the oceans I hold within. Ive been slowly drowning since I was a kid. Told that the validation I would grow to need like a drug, heroin to a fiend just so that I could feel something good inside the depths of MY being, a liferaft to keep me afloat was wrong of me to ever have a need. But How do I save myself from drowning beneath each giant wave my emotions bring crashing down around me. I cant swim in the ocean beneath my skin. Waves constantly crashing in and dragging me under. My air is running out and the only thing I hear people shout is SWIM!. as water replaces my lungs empty spaces. Blood hurts more than water its true but let love boil the water and it will still hurt you just as much too. Never feeling loved by my makers I searched for it in other spaces. Except the only place it should have been. My children you will never know of the force of love I hold for them. But I am still only a human. Trapped and stunted in the child that has been calling out in pain. So many lessons I have gained I see them now neatly wrapped up in my pain. I have been told by the ones I love both with and without blood, that I am too much because of my pain. Yet when I agree and try to erase me I am told to stay as they then walk away. Why. Why. Why Do I have to stay and everyone else gets to walk away from the darkness that takes my light away. Happiness feels almost like a myth a conjured up dream to dangle just out of my reach. And I have been told that its happiness I thieve from those around me. What kind of monster does that make me. That I would take the thing I so desperately need from someone that I love. It has been told to me that I am the creator of my own misery. That I should be a better human being and stop claiming to be the victim to the things that have brought death to my mind so many times. When I reach for help. Water rushing in as my screams are ripped out. Never a hand has been held out. Only the boots of blame and shame to push me further down. My pleas have begun to fade out. my voice is weakened by the consistent beacon, the sos hanging above my head running down my eyes and out my wrists that everyone claims to miss. No one will hear me if they don’t believe me. How do I convince them my pain is real. it means its me I have to kill. Then everyone will say I had been real and not the ghost I thought I had been when i was drowning and didn’t know how to swim.
submitted by Wolfwarrior121892 to BPDArt [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 08:48 meowzzz4352 Thoughts on my Symptoms
Now that I discovered this community I am pretty confident what is happening to me is all tied back to this lovely little jaw muscle. I see my GP Monday 8am . Hoping for any advice - better details - corrections on my wrong assumptions or statements and ultimately a little reassurance and validation from yall , That what is happening to me right now is all connected and I am not crazy.
10 months ago I had my last 2 upper molars pulled the "ol fashioned" way with the wiggling and the tugging and the ripping and the "Okay now you're going to feel a bit of pressure" followed by the feeling that your jaw is in fact being ripped out of your mouth.
Things started mild 6 months ago intensified around the 3 month mark and now these last 3 weeks I can barely function. I feel the definition of "Malaise" hits perfect. I'm afraid to leave my house the head pain / brain fog has me feeling like I could blackout any second, And the whoosh / vertigo / world spins has me terrified of driving.
So here is what I'm feeling in order of how they hit , everything is on the left side if that matters
Shoulder Blade - Everything is felt along the bottom of the blade.
Jolt of fire and burning on the skin -- A tearing and ripping under the skin on the muscle - Starts to vibrate a tingling fire sensation outward in a semi circle
When I put my tens unit on there the flexing caused pain on the top of shoulder and collarbone.
Always strongest when I lift or carry, random bursts when I'm sitting doing nothing and now even the weight of my phone sends it to 11
Muscles Weakness and Tremors
When the blade pain is bad, I can barely grip anything with my hand, Hands tremble and different arm muscles randomly will twitch and flex.
My jaw is now (2 weeks) shivering / chittering (IDK wtf it is) as if im cold. Digging my fingers into the facial knots will stop it. Always hits when I first get out of bed, then a few times during the day no pattern in the trigger
Eyes/Ears
Couldn't keep my contacts in more than half day , left only felt cloudy hazy blurry - They are brand new lenses and Ive been use the good "eye juice" with no changes. Tried yesterday had to take em out within an hour.
Sharp twinge zap inside the ear - cold trickling sensation down the canal - ends with a punch of pain behind ear on the thick neck tendon
The Whoosh (Is this brain fog? Something else?) Zap / Jolt of electricity on top of my brain but under my skull - The whoosh when i see everything spin a 360 for a second - And ends with me "off kilter' for minutes to hours, As if there is a delay between what my eye sees to when my brain processes. During the spell ill feel "wonky" "Out of body" "tunnelly vision"
The Exploding Head
Its a constant feeling / sensation that my head is filling with sludge.
Forehead & eye have waves of intense dull aches, This part is killing so bad right now, even with NSAIDS it never stops having pressure just relieves it slightly. When it kicks hard and throbs my eyes go really fuzzy and that im going to blackout feeling hits. I have not actually passed or blacked out thank god - my cats would eat me alive in a day -
Jaw/ cheek & gums are twitchy with tightness/fullness and pointy pain shockwaves. The M in the TMJ is a ball of rubberbands and it is so very tender. My face does not appear to have anything swelling outwards from here but poking around in there i find tons of lumps I can break up.. Opening and closing i have full range I think and right now no popping or pains when i do. The area by my ear where the bones connect is so tender, but I dont feel lumps much here. I feel such relief when I hit here with my point tool.
Side of my Neck has small mushy lumps just under the skin and some big daddies deeper in and these ones get stabbyy pains that pulse with my heart.
Back of my neck the bottom half is gravel I can break up pretty easy but I think 3 more come back in their place.
Base of skull I have golf balls burried deep,. They dont throb but when I rub them it is painful but in the best way because I feel such release everywhere else but then they hurt for days. When I rub them to hard and deep oh man sore for days.
All this ends at my upper back and this area is awful. It burns on the surface level 24/7. Icy hot tricks my brain for about and hour. I did some scraping massage here and it sounded like rice krispies and I think hese are adhesions vs knots. .Deeper is full of thick knots, I have the trigger point hook to dig in there and sometimes magic happens and the ache everywhere else gets better for a bit.
The floating bone
It was mild discomfort, odd feelings of tightness inside my actual throat, tingles and a dry feel. It started wiggling around on its own pretty often and when I felt that first water balloon pop inside yikes I was scared AF. Now it just moves whenever it wants. I barely touch it and it "shoots" to the other side. Massaging in here hurts so GOOD! Looking all the way up and feeling from chin towards throat I have many bumps all different sizes. And lastly when I move my head certain ways it feels as if there is a leak happening and almost mucus-y like I could cough but usually dont need to
If you are still with me many apologies this got longer than I thought it would. Today has been my worst day so far, all the pains I mentioned are now hitting at once. Today I was sitting here sobbing in pain it because I was at 13 / 10 and wouldn't ease no matter what I pressed on . 3 Naproxen with 3 ibuprofen gives me about 3 hours of refief right now. I know posture is a part of my pain levels and ive aready ordered some tools so I can correct.
submitted by meowzzz4352 to TMJ [link] [comments]
10 months ago I had my last 2 upper molars pulled the "ol fashioned" way with the wiggling and the tugging and the ripping and the "Okay now you're going to feel a bit of pressure" followed by the feeling that your jaw is in fact being ripped out of your mouth.
Things started mild 6 months ago intensified around the 3 month mark and now these last 3 weeks I can barely function. I feel the definition of "Malaise" hits perfect. I'm afraid to leave my house the head pain / brain fog has me feeling like I could blackout any second, And the whoosh / vertigo / world spins has me terrified of driving.
So here is what I'm feeling in order of how they hit , everything is on the left side if that matters
Shoulder Blade - Everything is felt along the bottom of the blade.
Jolt of fire and burning on the skin -- A tearing and ripping under the skin on the muscle - Starts to vibrate a tingling fire sensation outward in a semi circle
When I put my tens unit on there the flexing caused pain on the top of shoulder and collarbone.
Always strongest when I lift or carry, random bursts when I'm sitting doing nothing and now even the weight of my phone sends it to 11
Muscles Weakness and Tremors
When the blade pain is bad, I can barely grip anything with my hand, Hands tremble and different arm muscles randomly will twitch and flex.
My jaw is now (2 weeks) shivering / chittering (IDK wtf it is) as if im cold. Digging my fingers into the facial knots will stop it. Always hits when I first get out of bed, then a few times during the day no pattern in the trigger
Eyes/Ears
Couldn't keep my contacts in more than half day , left only felt cloudy hazy blurry - They are brand new lenses and Ive been use the good "eye juice" with no changes. Tried yesterday had to take em out within an hour.
Sharp twinge zap inside the ear - cold trickling sensation down the canal - ends with a punch of pain behind ear on the thick neck tendon
The Whoosh (Is this brain fog? Something else?) Zap / Jolt of electricity on top of my brain but under my skull - The whoosh when i see everything spin a 360 for a second - And ends with me "off kilter' for minutes to hours, As if there is a delay between what my eye sees to when my brain processes. During the spell ill feel "wonky" "Out of body" "tunnelly vision"
The Exploding Head
Its a constant feeling / sensation that my head is filling with sludge.
Forehead & eye have waves of intense dull aches, This part is killing so bad right now, even with NSAIDS it never stops having pressure just relieves it slightly. When it kicks hard and throbs my eyes go really fuzzy and that im going to blackout feeling hits. I have not actually passed or blacked out thank god - my cats would eat me alive in a day -
Jaw/ cheek & gums are twitchy with tightness/fullness and pointy pain shockwaves. The M in the TMJ is a ball of rubberbands and it is so very tender. My face does not appear to have anything swelling outwards from here but poking around in there i find tons of lumps I can break up.. Opening and closing i have full range I think and right now no popping or pains when i do. The area by my ear where the bones connect is so tender, but I dont feel lumps much here. I feel such relief when I hit here with my point tool.
Side of my Neck has small mushy lumps just under the skin and some big daddies deeper in and these ones get stabbyy pains that pulse with my heart.
Back of my neck the bottom half is gravel I can break up pretty easy but I think 3 more come back in their place.
Base of skull I have golf balls burried deep,. They dont throb but when I rub them it is painful but in the best way because I feel such release everywhere else but then they hurt for days. When I rub them to hard and deep oh man sore for days.
All this ends at my upper back and this area is awful. It burns on the surface level 24/7. Icy hot tricks my brain for about and hour. I did some scraping massage here and it sounded like rice krispies and I think hese are adhesions vs knots. .Deeper is full of thick knots, I have the trigger point hook to dig in there and sometimes magic happens and the ache everywhere else gets better for a bit.
The floating bone
It was mild discomfort, odd feelings of tightness inside my actual throat, tingles and a dry feel. It started wiggling around on its own pretty often and when I felt that first water balloon pop inside yikes I was scared AF. Now it just moves whenever it wants. I barely touch it and it "shoots" to the other side. Massaging in here hurts so GOOD! Looking all the way up and feeling from chin towards throat I have many bumps all different sizes. And lastly when I move my head certain ways it feels as if there is a leak happening and almost mucus-y like I could cough but usually dont need to
If you are still with me many apologies this got longer than I thought it would. Today has been my worst day so far, all the pains I mentioned are now hitting at once. Today I was sitting here sobbing in pain it because I was at 13 / 10 and wouldn't ease no matter what I pressed on . 3 Naproxen with 3 ibuprofen gives me about 3 hours of refief right now. I know posture is a part of my pain levels and ive aready ordered some tools so I can correct.