How to fill out an adams receipt book
All things NFA
2010.11.29 14:36 Mr45 All things NFA
A community of hobbyists interested in NFA items, history, and news. We seek to expand general understanding of the laws collectively referred to as the National Firearms Act and their implications for gun owners and citizens of today. Silencer, SBR, SBS, DD, AOW, and MG posts are all welcome here. Content suggesting non-compliance or discouraging NFA ownership will not be tolerated.
2009.08.12 08:27 surfwax95 TOMT: When you can't remember that…thing…
For finding the un-googleable things that are on the tip of your tongue... That word... The name of that song... That movie...
2012.07.09 20:09 rdeluca Where the OP always delivers
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.
submitted by PageTurner627 to nosleep [link] [comments]
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter 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 09:13 SnooDrawings8632 Understanding Roles and Responsibilities of each person in your case. How does the injured worker know where to get the correct information? What to do with contradictory information? What if the person you're supposed to talk to is unresponsive?
Besides the questions in the title I tired to elaborate a little and also each question(s) has two, a. and b. sections. Section a. is meant for sort of a broad understanding. Section b. is my personal, specific case example (active claim, CA ~10 months).
I'm sure who you'll see will depend on state law, your injury, among other things. Regardless of who you see, more importantly: How do we (the injured worker) know if who we've been assigned to is doing their job correctly or just having an off day, since we know it's not required to have good bedside manner, what are they required by definition AND law? That said:
Ending note: There is so many more examples I could give which to me paint a picture of neglect. From what I can tell, I either already signed my rights away or it's just not worth the fight. I don't even want to fight, or believed there would be a reason for a disagreement due to my injury but since that bubble of disillusionment has popped, how can I reproach getting the best medical treatment. I was lead to believe that after seeing a specialist I would have the option to get a second opinion before the QME. I haven't even seen the first specialist (I was sent to an office with a specialist in it, but the person I saw was just a family practitioner).and since both my doctor and my adjutor are not helping ---Who the fuck do I talk to?
submitted by SnooDrawings8632 to WorkersComp [link] [comments]
I'm sure who you'll see will depend on state law, your injury, among other things. Regardless of who you see, more importantly: How do we (the injured worker) know if who we've been assigned to is doing their job correctly or just having an off day, since we know it's not required to have good bedside manner, what are they required by definition AND law? That said:
1a. Despite case by case variations; who are personnel that everyone will see no matter what? What should you expect from them, and is there more they can do...but only if you know how to ask? I'm imagining a knowledgeable answer would be a long list of all the possible outcomes within the maximum allowed in WC, but probably more helpful is to address the most common. A small list may only include a companies HR, Claims adjustor, and an Occupational Health doctor for example. Then continuing the list after those essential people is there typically a usual process where if once your case goes for a certain amount of time or ______ happens, you could expect to meet these ______ job title? I'm hoping to help other people at least have an idea of what to expect out of said people.
1b. TLDR: Here's one of the biggest examples of not knowing who to talk to and whether that information is correct. I have not been given crucial test results from 3 months ago. Original test (Neuropathy) doc said to get my results from my doctor, who sends me to therapist, who sends me back to doctor, my adjustor says doctor, doctor sends me to "Specialist", turns out not specialist, who sends me back to my doctor...ummmm....WTF do I do at my next doctors visits in a few days??
1b (cont.) It has come to my attention that I'm completely unaware of exactly what a large majority of the people I've been assigned to see do. In fact, in what capacity do I "have to see them"? Can I request a swap, or how do I make a complaint? I have been MORE than patient, and I've given the benefit of the doubt for so long that I can no longer accept being passed along. I'm already back where I started, for the 3rd time. Uh...so, besides just wanting information for myself, I'd think the test results should help me heal. I've been denied more treatments (Appeal's denied too) where I'd think that those test results could play a crucial role. Where once I thought there has there been a miscommunication, now feels like I'm in an echo chamber, or worse. This is quite alarming as it also shines light into the fact that I am also unaware of how "my doctor" can best help me, if at all. "My doctor", the one I'm required to see at Occupational Health, (I'm told I not allowed to see my family doctor) doesn't seem to do anything other than fill out the "Return to work form". Is that correct? How would I know?? They seem to just write whatever I tell them. Similarly the same goes for what treatments I've gotten. Best I can tell, there is no indication they have reviewed any of the information from other doctors and therapists. It's now going on 3 months where I haven't been given test results.
Unfortunately it's not just my doctor who I'm not getting information from. "Generic Adjustor" Enters the chat. or maybe not, because to top off the confusion, I can't get ahold of my adjustor who so far been the one steering me into the .... direction. Unfortunately I believe I'm waking up too late. I've called multiple times a day for a week straight while leaving messages and follow up emails noting that I've called. They do respond to email, which usually consists of one line stating something like "call anytime, I'll be in the office all week".. Funny thing is I'm not sure what exactly they are even supposed to do or bare minimum required to do. Even when I get ahold of them, I'm questioning if I can even trust them. I'm not saying "it's conspiracy". However due to the most recent info I've gotten, I do think the run around could be very deliberate play. How do I know if they're simply bad at their job or leaving me in the dark. It sure feels like it's purposeful. This all came to a head when after reviewing our last few emails, I see a pattern where they only respond to some of the questions, and even have given verifiably incorrect, contradictory information. How do I check these facts? Should I talk to a supervisor? Is there a system to check and balance these things? Who do I talk to? It all came to a head when I opened mail to find: Request of QME with the reason being "Objection to Primary Treating Physician's determination regarding temporary disability, permanent disability, or the need for future medical care." Aggravating but I'm sure they followed the (rules I was unaware of) book. It's questions like this that have me really, really upset: What is even meant by "Objection to Primary Treating Physician's determination"? 1. Quick sidebar - is that decision made by the "my doctor" that I described earlier - or the "Provider"? > Meaning, those two terms have been used interchangeably, and I fear that, and why I used quotes for "my doctor" earlier, I'm wondering if this other name (who happens to be another doctor at the Occupational Health office) a person I have never met let alone seen is the one calling the shots. Either way I'm pretty worried. 2. Here is another example which shows only a part of the circle of "who do I talk to". Here is a quote from my adjustor 10 days after the letter had been officiated, but before I got it states "you have not seen a specialist, attended a QME, or have a clear treatment plan defined by your primary treating physician.". Am I wrong to have read that to believe I'd still be seeing a specialist? Doesn't it read that the information the specialist decides would be what determines the next step? Isn't it safe to say that by month 10 I'd have a treatment plan --of course unless your not privy to your own test results?Ending note: There is so many more examples I could give which to me paint a picture of neglect. From what I can tell, I either already signed my rights away or it's just not worth the fight. I don't even want to fight, or believed there would be a reason for a disagreement due to my injury but since that bubble of disillusionment has popped, how can I reproach getting the best medical treatment. I was lead to believe that after seeing a specialist I would have the option to get a second opinion before the QME. I haven't even seen the first specialist (I was sent to an office with a specialist in it, but the person I saw was just a family practitioner).and since both my doctor and my adjutor are not helping ---Who the fuck do I talk to?
2024.05.19 08:54 BOfficeStats Domestic BOT Presale Tracking (May 18). Thursday/EA+THU Comps: Furiosa ($4.49M), Garfield ($1.22M/$1.97M), Bad Boys ($3.64M/$5.30M) and Inside Out 2 ($7.66M).
BoxOfficeTheory Presale Tracking
USA Showtimes As of May 17
Presales Data (Google Sheets Link)
BoxOfficeReport Previews
DOMESTIC PRESALES
Furiosa Thursday Comp assuming $5M for keysersoze123: $4.49M
MAY
April 23
April 25
April 27
April 30
May 2
May 4
May 7
May 9
May 11
May 14
May 16
Note: I have removed most tracking data that has not been updated for 2 weeks. I think there is value in keeping data for a week or two but at a certain point they start to lose their value and should not be treated the same as more recent tracking data.
submitted by BOfficeStats to boxoffice [link] [comments]
USA Showtimes As of May 17
Presales Data (Google Sheets Link)
BoxOfficeReport Previews
DOMESTIC PRESALES
Furiosa Thursday Comp assuming $5M for keysersoze123: $4.49M
- abracadabra1998 ($5.46M Thursday comp. GxK obviously really propping the average up but for now I could see that settling at around $5 Million, still good pace! (May 12). Really good stuff in this market (May 9). Reallyyyyyy good day 1 here. I want to note that: NO I do NOT think preview numbers will be that high; it's just highlighting the fact that this is likely a movie that will be running hot in my market, as cinephile blockbusters usually do. Next update I will have T-14 comps, which will be a lot lower due to the short release window (May 8).)
- AniNate (Encouraging to see the weekend fill out a bit. Been seeing a lot of promotion during the basketball playoffs so general awareness has to be getting there now. (May 15). Skimmed through ThuFri and Valley View (Cleveland vicinity) has sold roughly 60 Furiosa tix so far while Tinseltown (Canton) has sold 40. I'm guessing the upfront audience does lean more toward the urban/cosmopolitan sensibilities (May 9). Presales show there's definitely some hype for this. Regal gonna irritate trackers again, offering no upcharge IMAX for Furiosa (May 8).)
- Charlie Jatinder ($3.05M Thursday comp.)
- el sid ($5.8M average Thursday comp (without Exorcist 2) (May 12). Furiosa continues its strong performance in "my" theaters. The movie yesterday had already 1.310 sold tickets (for Thursday, May 23). Up 15% in ca. 24 hours which isn't bad at all after the first rush. Already comfortably in front of The Fall Guy's final sales (it had 1.071 counted on Thursday for Thursday) and almost on par with Civil War's final sales (1.357) and also the Apes finally had not more than 1.657 sold tickets in my theaters (May 11). I also can't complain about Furiosa's presales in my theaters, not at all. Already 1,138 sold tickets (in all of "my" 7 theaters) for May 23. 14 days left. Promising start. Civil War on Thursday of the release week for Thursday had 1,357 sold tickets and The Fall Guy finally had 1,071 sold tickets (May 9).)
- katnisscinnaplex ($3.94M Thursday comp.)
- keysersoze123 (Definitely chugging along. I am feeling good about 5m+ previews (May 15). It has way stronger sales than Garfield and that is expected. I am thinking of 5m previews for now (May 14). I think this is a solid OD presales. With a short PS window its probably looking at 5m+ previews (May 9).)
- TheFlatLannister ($4.71M Thursday comp. Second straight day of weak growth. Not a great sign (May 18). First meh day since presales started (May 17). Keeps climbing at a strong pace (May 11). This continues to grow at an excellent rate (May 10). Really strong day 2. The short presales is for sure a factor (May 9). Not seeing much of a breakout. Still pretty solid start to presales (May 8).)
- vafrow ($3.5M Thursday comp. A bit of a step back today (May 18). It's starting to heat up (May 17). Comps are showing as steady since the last update, but it actually dipped quite a bit this week before rebounding today. Advance ticket buying has been so off in this market recently for some reason. Holding pace with Apes is a good sign (May 16). It had a good day (May 12). Mediocre day 2 (May 10). Not the hottest start. IMAX is the format of choice though, so, ATP will be high (May 9).)
- YM! (Southeast Wisconsin: Pretty solid I guess for Furiosa. Seems that most of it's business is in the Marcus Theaters in Mequon/Waukesha so not really expecting much a diverse showing but there seems to be a fanbase around it. Feel good in everyone's 4.5-5M previews range (May 17).)
- vafrow (Getting a theatrical release up here in Canada, and early signs are that it might get a pretty decent screen count. Not super wide or anything, but a pretty decent amount for a weekend that has a lot of other releases (May 14).)
- abracadabra1998 ($0.72M EA comp and $1.19M Thursday comp. The two comps that are most helpful, Wish and Trolls (not PLF, EA on a weekend, family movies) are both pointing to a lot lower than average, so I'm inclined to give those a lot more weight. I'm thinking $500-600k for EA (May 18). Still not really accelerating, and the EA is falling against comps (May 12). Good EA numbers, but many of these comps were PLF-only EA, which this is not, so I think the ATP will be quite lower and that should be adjusted for (May 9).)
- AniNate (EA screenings are pretty filled to the brim here now for what that's worth. Maybe a surge in family demand will present itself later next week (May 17). EA sales look decent now, but this does feel rather weak compared to the IF presales. Not 100% certain what's going on here but based on this I buy the trades' opening estimates over the forum vibes (May 15). I definitely haven't seen as much of a rush here with Garfield as with IF (May 11).)
- el sid (The very even sales are a good sign (May 7). For Sunday, May 19, I can already report that also in my theaters it looks very good for Garfield. They will for sure add shows soon. It has so far only 1 show/theater and the shows are almost sold out, between 1 and 4 seats are still available. So my guess still is that this movie if it's not totally bad (and first reviews here were quite positive) will become a (big) hit. Seems not much on Thursday but it's a step in the right direction (May 6).)
- katnisscinnaplex ($0.91M EA comp and $1.11M Thursday comp. Lightyear probably the best comp here size-wise for Early Access, probably ends around 750-800k (May 18).)
- keysersoze123 (4 days later. Almost no pace so far. Sunday shows are near sellout and so limited growth. Previews are like 35% of Panda 4 and Friday is under 1/3rd. That said this will under index in MTC1 as Panda also did that. Still struggling to see this as a breakout. Looking at the current state, it looks like half of IF as well !!! Of course that had Reynolds and did not finish that great (May 17). Its definitely weaker than even Elemental. That said these movies tend to finish strong and so I am not writing it off so early. Just that the long PS window is irrelevant for them. They could rather start presales like a week before release and it would be all the same. Meh. We have to wait until next week to gauge where its going to finish. It has very low ATP as well and actual would be even lower as its going to see tons of kids tickets (May 14). Early shows are regular digital shows at 1PM this sunday. So ATP will be very low. I think 500k ish at best. Preview let us see how things go in the final week. Presales at this point are almost non existent (May 13).)
- TheFlatLannister ($2.18M Thursday comp. Not much movement at all in the past week. Probably heading to $2M+ (May 17).)
- vafrow ($0.4M Thursday comp. Comps don't paint a pretty picture though. EA shows are doing okay (May 11). Still no sales for my core sample for previews. But I did the larger sweep, which shows the interest right now is the Sunday early access shows. Looking at sales patterns, it's mainly blocks of 3/4 tickets, so likely families grabbing some. It's worth noting that the May holiday in Canada is the weekend of May 17-20th, not the weekend after with Memorial Day. I can see families prioritizing getting out the holiday weekend when they have more time (May 4).)
- YM! (The combined previews total for Garfield is 35 tickets with 23 tickets coming from EA, which is pretty solid. Still thinking around 2-2.75m previews with EA as while not as widespread, the showings seem like they’re filling up nicely. Think Garfield does about the same as IF though OW as due to the likely lower ATP Keyser hinted at iirc and seemingly little screen space with no PLFs. Meh, kids animation doesn't really make much notion until the Monday for release and Garfield seems indicative of that. Thinking the 1.5-2M Thursday previews range folks were spitting out makes sense. Nothing screams breakout though and the fact it's getting one screen, maybe two at most for previews makes me feel like OW might be similar to IF (May 17).)
- abracadabra1998 ($3.78M Thursday comp. These numbers are from last Thursday, as per my post this morning. This is a more walk-up movie a la Aquaman or Apes so I think it's a pretty good start (May 18). Pretty good start for it honestly (May 16).)
- katnisscinnaplex ($5.30M EA+Thursday comp.)
- TheFlatLannister ($3.68M Thursday comp. Well, this is a pretty good start (May 17).)
- YM! (Again, another solid start-ish. I expect Bad Boys to have the most diverse audience. Can't really predict much on previews but I am feeling confident in the 55-60m OW range for the past few weeks (May 17).)
- vafrow ($3.45M Thursday comp. Comps are not the greatest. One, surprisingly hard to find a comparable film with similar start on sales. Plus, I think ticket buying patterns have changed pretty drastically in my market over the last few months. There's very little up front sales compared to late 2023. Dune was the exception (May 17).)
- BoxOfficePro (Fathom Events has also announced that select Regal Cinemas will present the films in 4DX on June 22/23/24 for Fellowship/Towers/Return respectively (May 14).)
- katnisscinnaplex (Up to ~1,400 shows now with new locations picking it up and others adding a second showing. LotR1 has sold 831 seats OD, LotR2 sold 715 seats OD, and LotR3 sold 735 seats OD. For comparison, Phantom Menace didn't break 800 tickets until T-3 and we're still over a month out. JW3 comp is currently around 9m (it was at 1,670 tickets sold at this point!) (May 6).)
- abracadabra1998 ($3.67M Thursday comp. Holy numbers of shows and seats! Multiplexes are really expecting a lot here. Sales off the bat not amazing here sadly, but we shall see where it goes (May 15).)
- AniNate (It is encouraging that Canton is already giving me something to work with with 12 Thursday preview sales. Same number for Fri-Sun. I do see nine sales for first Thursday at Canton now and I think that's a pretty solid start (May 15).)
- charlie Jatinder ($11.37M Thursday comp at MTC2.)
- katnisscinnaplex ($6.21M Thursday comp. Early sales just haven't been there lately except for the extreme fans. $12.27M Mario comp (May 18). Already at 180 shows for previews in my areas and still has a few theaters left to post. For comparison, Godzilla x Kong finished with 197, Kingdom of Apes 190, and Kung Fu Panda 205 (May 14).)
- keysersoze123 (At least the show counts show Plexes are expecting a big OW. I dont remember when we last had a animation movie start with so many shows. I wont count Mario as that was a fan driven movie. Definitely not great presales but this is not a fan driven movie. Let us see where things are in the final week (May 15). Too early to judge presales as ticket sales just started early this morning. Families dont book tickets on weekday mornings. Wait until evening today to judge it. From a release perspective its way bigger than all animation movies seen recently including Panda 4. Easily the biggest I have seen in a long time. Only movie which is not comparable is Mario but that was not just a family flick (May 14).)
- Porthos (VERY BAD COMPS: $8.06M Thursday comp. What a strange pre-sale pattern. Threw in Shazam 2 and Barbie simply due to having nothing suitable at T-27, and I wanted something that was backloaded in pre-sales. Was prepared to make a smart-aleck comment about the unsuitability of the pre-sale pattern of Barbie, but after today's update... Okay, yeah. Still no. But what a weird pattern. Was there some sort of promo that dropped today that I'm not aware of? Either way, just a great day (for this type of movie at this point in pre-sales) (May 17). Fairly strong day today, actually. Was concentrated at a couple of theaters (including a small group sale at one showing), but still, sales are sales (May 16). I really do not have good comps for this movie. Like, at all. Especially for D1. With that in mind, I did some digging and did manage to get the Elemental D1 numbers out of the old Tracking thread: IO2 = 5.45946x Elemental on D1 [13.10m]. Now will Inside Out 2 be as backloaded as Elemental? Well it's tough to literally sell 5.5x times the amount of tickets on the final couple of days that Elemental did, so perhaps not. But it does show how fracking backloaded purely kids animation is. Anyway, this is 30 days out and it isn't a CBM film (like AtSV) or CBM-adjacent film (like Incredibles 2). The Sonic 2 comp is perhaps a little concerning. On the other hand, nearly a weeks more of pre-sales so not exactly a great comp. 3.5% of presales are 3D and 40.1% are PLF (May 15). On the Saturday of release weekend (ie NOT EA) there is a special event screening for IO2: INSIDE OUT 2: FUNKO FAMILY EVENT! (2024) Sat June 15th. Might boost the OW slightly, depending on how wide this event is and how much more these tickets will presumably cost (May 11).)
- TheFlatLannister ($8.97M Thursday comp. Definitely the biggest rollout in showings since I've started tracking Florida. Bigger than even Dune 2 and it's only T-26 (May 18). This is a super super strong day 2. Probably just Orlando overindexing, but yeah starting to lean towards something big brewing. Florida presales are somehow even crazier. Sold 2357 seats and is getting a blockbuster rollout in terms of showing allocations. Kung Fu panda comp day 2: gives me $8.50M (May 15). Well, I can't really tell if this is a breakout or not yet. Looks very good especially in the first few hours. These are probably terrible comps, but might as well try something (May 14).)
- TwoMisfits (I'm kinda shocked at the opening set from my Cinemarks... 2 screens (1 PLF, 1 not) and 6 showings at my PLF 14 for Thursday (and 11 showings on the same screens once it runs full day - 7 PLF b/c 1 is 3d on the reg screen, 4 not)... 3 screens (.75 3d, 2.25 not) and 9 showings at the non-PLF 12 for Thursday (and 12 showings on 2.25 screens once it runs full day)... So, 2 and 2.25 screens for the weekend presale sets... Disney must be charging a huge % for themselves b/c this is an Elemental opening set at my PLF...a little more generous for Thursday at my non-PLF, but then they too drop to an Elemental opening set after the adult Disney base Thursday rush... (May 14).)
- vafrow (No new sales. Whatever glitches in the system on day 1 didn't push sales to day 2. I still think the lack of base ticket options will push families to wait. Cineplex has jacked up the cost of premium formats, plus they're throwing in an increase for opening weekend of major releases. It adds up quickly for families (May 16). With the site glitching yesterday, it might account for the slow start. But, what's interesting is the format breakdown. Nothing is being made available in anything close to a regular showtime. The one non 3D showing in Dolby is a matinee showing. Everything else is carrying a hefty premium. They'll likely release regular showtimes closer to release, but right now, it's priced to get eager fans to pay the premium formats (May 15).)
- YM! (Seems IO2 is playing more like a kid's animation than a family event in start of presales. However, it is pretty solid for what it is. Do not have comparisons for anything but I like that Majestic is healthy and it about 66% of Garfield T-6. Thinking anywhere from 75m-100m OW rn but can change as we go along (May 17). In fairness it's only been an hour but yeah sales are softer than I expected. However, it is a month out and will largely skew more towards kids than say TLM/Across so wasn't expecting a blitz like them. Here at Marcus theaters are going all out for IO2 with it having the lion share of PLFs with it getting both screens when there is two PLFs with tentpole like levels of screens (May 14). Was taking a look at Marcus Cinemas to see that they have preloaded Inside Out 2 showtimes which seem to start at 3:00 pm on a Thursday. It seems like Marcus is going all out on it as judging from showtimes it's taking away all of Bad Boys’ PLFs in that theaters that have two+ PLFs are giving all to IO2 (May 11).)
- keysersoze123 (Only number that matters is OD presales. after few days it will hit a trough and then it will plod along until social media reactions and reviews hit close to release. I think we can kind of predict its OW after its OD presales (May 18). RESPONSE TO PORTHOS: Captain Marvel had very strong sales on its OD despite early start. So OD is all about fans. It does not matter if you start 2 weeks before or 9 weeks. They will still book. So it would be interesting to compare OD sales not only with CM for @Porthos but also the big openers in 2022/23 period from MTC perspective. 1) DS2 - 230k ish. 2) Thor 4 - 136k ish. 3) Wakanda - 110k. 4) Ant 3 - 88K. 5) Guardians 3 - 70k ish. I wonder where Deadpool 3 will land. Anything is fine as long as it does pull in a Marvels (May 17).)
- Porthos (No point of comparison for a movie starting presales this early (60+ days before release). Only MCU entry which comes close was Captain Marvel back in Jan of 2019 (T-58 start date). Aside from that, the only other Disney release would be TROS starting at T-59. This is gonna be the longest pre-sale window for a major Disney release since The Last Jedi all the way back in 2017 (which looks to be around 70 days if a cursory check of when tickets went on sale is correct). Hell, it's gonna be the longest major release of any studio since Fast X's execrable 99 day pre-sale window. Have had some that came close-ish, but probably the most on-point recent comparison will be Jurassic World 3's 43 day pre-sale window, which is still over three weeks shorter than this one. I mention this because the sheer length of the pre-sale window will very likely depress the D1/D2/D3 sales somewhat. Maybe not much, but you can't tell me there'd be no difference between a T-21 launch, a T-29 launch, a T-35 launch and a T-65 launch. Sure, it's a matter of smaller degrees when comparing something like a BP2 (starting at T-38), but that extra month is probably gonna slice some numbers off the top of the pile, especially after the first day (May 17).)
MAY
- (May 19) Review Embargo Lifts [Garfield 9 PM EST]
- (May 20) Presales Start [Deadpool and Wolverine (9 AM EST)]
- (May 20) Opening Day [Monday: Spider-Man Homecoming Re-Release]
- (May 22) Presales Start [The Watchers]
- (May 23) Presales Start [Summer Camp]
- (May 23) Thursday Previews [Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga + Hit Man + The Garfield Movie + Sight]
- (May 26) Presales Start [Bikeriders]
- (May 27) Opening Day [Monday: Spider-Man Far From Home Re-Release]
- (May 30) Presales Start [A Quiet Place: Day One]
- (May 30) Thursday Previews [Ezra + Haikyu!! The Dumpster Battle + Summer Camp + Robot Dreams]
- (June 3) Opening Day [Monday: Spider-Man No Way Home Re-Release]
- (June 5) Presales Start [Despicable Me 4]
- (June 6) Presales Start [Twisters]
- (June 6) Thursday Previews [Bad Boys: Ride or Die + The Watchers]
- (June 8) 1-Saturday Re-Release (1st day) [The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition]
- (June 9) 1-Sunday Re-Release (1st day) [The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Extended Edition]
- (June 10) 1-Monday Re-Release (1st day) [The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King Extended Edition]
- (June 13) Thursday Previews [Inside Out 2]
- (June 15) 1-Saturday Re-Release (2nd day) [The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition]
- (June 16) 1-Sunday Re-Release (2nd day) [The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Extended Edition]
- (June 17) 1-Monday Re-Release (2nd day) [The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King Extended Edition]
- (June 20) Thursday Previews [The Bikeriders + Janet Planet]
- (June 27) Thursday Previews [Blue Lock The Movie -Episode Nagi- + Horizon: An American Saga Chapter 1 + A Quiet Place: Day One]
- (July 1) Presales Start [Longlegs]
- (July 2) Opening Day [Wednesday: Despicable Me 4]
- (July 4) Opening Day [Thursday: Possum Trot]
- (July 4) Thursday Previews [MaXXXine]
- (July 11) Thursday Previews [Fly Me to the Moon + Untitled New Line Horror movie]
- (July 18) Thursday Previews [Twisters]
- (July 25) Thursday Previews [Deadpool and Wolverine + Didi + Fabulous Four]
- (July 29) Presales Start [Alien: Romulus]
- (August 1) Thursday Previews [Harold and the Purple Crayon]
- (August 8) Thursday Previews [Borderlands + Colleen Hoover’s It Ends With Us + Cuckoo + The Fire Inside + Trap]
- (August 15) Thursday Previews [Alien: Romulus + Horizon An American Saga Chapter 2 + Ryan’s World the Movie: Titan Universe Adventure]
- (August 22) Thursday Previews [Blink Twice + The Crow + The Forge + Slingshot]
- (August 29) Thursday Previews [City of Dreams + Reagan + They Listen]
April 23
April 25
April 27
April 30
May 2
May 4
May 7
May 9
May 11
May 14
May 16
Note: I have removed most tracking data that has not been updated for 2 weeks. I think there is value in keeping data for a week or two but at a certain point they start to lose their value and should not be treated the same as more recent tracking data.
2024.05.19 08:22 LaundryCat69 Rate my gospel thing that i made, Please share it as well.
Hello everyone
Here is why Good Friday is called Good Friday, what sin is and who sinners are.
Why is Good Friday called Good Friday?
In the case you don't know why Good Friday is Good Friday is it's the day that Jesus died for all of humankind’s sin.
What is sin?
Sin is a thing that if done would be in violation of God's law also it is the thing that separates us from God.
Romans 6:23 mentions: “for the wages of sin is death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” there is no such thing as a sin that doesn't result in not going to heaven.
Also, the word death in this context doesn't mean to cease to exist, it is referring to separation from God.
Who are sinners?
all of us! as mentioned in Romans 3:10,23; Isaiah 64:6 and Psalm 51:5. We are sinners because of the fact that Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, this is mentioned in Genesis 3.
What did Jesus go through on the Cross?
He went through unimaginable suffering as he was dying on the cross for our sins. We all deserve what Jesus went through on the cross and we too deserve to pay for our sins in the fires of hell(Psalm 7:11, 9:17; Romans 6:23, Revelation 20:11-15, 21:8; James 2:10; Jude 1:7; 2nd Thessalonians 1:8,9)
Jesus knew that there needed to be a price paid for all of humankind's sin.
the last things that he said before he died was in Luke 23:34 “Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing” and in John 19:30 where he said “it is finished”
After He said that, He bowed His head and gave up His spirit, then, he was then buried in a tomb and 3 days later God with the power of the Holy Spirit rose Jesus from the dead, As mentioned in 1st Corinthians 15:6 “After that, he appeared to more than 500 of the brothers and sisters at the same time most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep.”
In accordance with 1 Corinthians 15: 1-4, John 3:16,17, and Romans 5:8, He shed His precious blood, dying on the cross for our sins, He was buried, and rose again 3 days later.
Someday He will return, when? That I don't know, only God knows when He is going to return as mentioned in Matthew 24:36 which mentions: “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Mark 13:32 has this message as well.
Also, Matthew 24:44 mentions: So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man(Jesus) will come at an hour when you do not expect him” Luke 12:40 carries this message as well.
Furthermore, when Jesus died on the cross he not only paid the price for mankind's sin, he also took the weight of God's Wrath on him as well. He died on the cross so you can be Saved and go to Heaven.
Why did Jesus Christ go through all the suffering that he went through?
It is because he loves you so much, The love He has for you and us all isn't comparable to the love that for instance your parents have for you, John 3:16 Mentions: ”for God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life”
Also, when Jesus Rose again, he defeated Death, Satan, the world, hell and sin. John 15:13 also mentions: “Greater love has no man than this, to lay down one's life for one’s friends”
It is his literal liquid and precious blood that cleanses and washes our sins away(Hebrews 9:12, 24; 12:24; 1st John 1:7; Revelation 1:5, along with Ephesians 1:7, 2:13; Colossians 1:14,20; Hebrews 9:22, 10:19; 1 Peter 1:18&19; 1 John 1:7; Revelation 1:5)
Here are some Important things to know about God, Jesus Christ and Salvation
Jesus was born of a Virgin(Isaiah 7:14 and Matthew 1:23)
He never sinned(2nd Corinthians 5:21 and Hebrews 4: 15,16)
He is the Lord almighty(John 1:1-3,14 John 10:33; Revelation 1:8, 19:13)
The Godhead incarnate(Colossians 2:9 and 1st Timothy 3:16)
The Godhead exists as Three Persons, namely God the father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit(Colossians 2:2, 9; Matthew 28:19-20; Romans 1:20; Acts 17:29; 2nd John 1:3; Matthew 3:16-17; 1st Timothy 3:16)
Now how salvation works it is through Faith you have salvation and works(Faith = Salvation and works), As mentioned in verses such as Galatians 3:2, 1st Corinthians 1:21, Ephesians 2: 8-9, Romans 4:5, 5:1 and 11:6.
Jesus is the only way to Heaven.
He mentioned in John 14:6 “I am the way and the truth and the life no one comes to the father(God) except for me”
Acts 4:12 also mentions: “ Salvation is found under no one else, for there is no other name given under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”
Jesus too mentioned in Matthew 9:12-13 “On hearing disk Jesus said it is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick”(Verse 12) “but go and learn what this means I desire Mercy not sacrifice. For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners”(Verse 13), Luke 5:31 -32 has this message as well
Now, here are some things about Hell
Jesus Christ made it so that you can be saved from hell and so you could be in Heaven with him for eternity.
Who was Hell made for?
Satan and the devils, not for us humans, but the truth is that if someone rejects Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior then there is no other place for them to go.
John 8:24 mentions: “I told you that you would die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins.”,
Luke 13:3 and 5 mentions: “ I tell you, no!, but unless you repent, you too will all perish”
Part of Mark 16:16 states: “.... but, whoever does not believe will be condemned.”
Part of John 3:18 states: “..... but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only son”
Revelation 20:15 states: “Anyone whose name was not found found in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire”
Amongst the kinds of people listed in Revelation 21:8 include the Unbelievers, these kinds of people along with the others listed there will be thrown into the lake of fire.
Here are some things for people who don't think that Hell is real
And now for the people who don’t think that Hell is real, what if you end up realizing that you are wrong? What if Jesus was telling us the truth? Are you really willing to take that risk and gamble with your soul? Please think about it. Because at some point it will be too late. Also, I’m not intending to scare you with this, I’m wanting to have you saved from hell. Furthermore, you only have one life on earth to decide on where you will go for eternity. Hebrews 9:27 mentions: “Just as people are destined to die once and after that to face judgment”
When is the time to repent?
Now!, is the time to repent of unbelief and believe the Gospel, tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone.
God is calling us to repent, Acts 17:30 mentions: “ In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent.”
Acts 3:19 mentions: “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.”,
Acts 2:38 mentions: “Peter replied’ repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit’.
Mark 1:15 mentions,: “The time has come” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and Believe the Good news!” Matthew 3:2 also mentions this.
Luke 15:7 mentions: “I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” Luke 15:10 also has this message as well.
Here are some more salvation related things and a salvation prayer below:
Acts 16:31 Mentions they replied,” believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved you and your household”
John 6:47 mentions: ‘Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life.”
Romans 10:9 Mentions if you declare with your mouth “Jesus is Lord” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead you will be saved.
Romans 10:13 also mentions for, “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved”.
Also, you must be born again as mentioned in John 3:3, 5, and 7.
Now, here is a prayer to say to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior:
The exact words are not what matters in your prayer to accept him, but what you mean is what matters.
This is the prayer to say:
“Heavenly father, God, I know that I am a sinner in need of your forgiveness, I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins and you raised him from the dead 3 days later, I want to turn away from my sins and to live a Godly life, Please come into my heart Jesus Christ, I now accept you as my Lord and Savior, I am willing to follow you as Lord of my life from this day forward, please fill me with your Holy Spirit, in Jesus name I pray Amen.”
Lastly, here are some things that you will need to avoid:
1. Abusing God’s grace, it is not a license to sin,
Romans 6:1-2 mention: “What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?”(Verse 1), “By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?”(Verse 2)
2. Being a lukewarm Christian,
Revelation 3:16 mentions: “ So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”
What luke warm would look like for instance is hardly or never doing the following: Praying, Reading your Bible and going to church service. It can also be like this, spending one hour in the church and another hour in the club, one hour praising and another hour swearing, one hour in the light and another in the darkness, one hour with the Lord and another with Satan. Take both the cup of the demons and the cup of the Lord(1st Corinthians 10:21). It’s either God or Satan or either Christ the king or the kingdom of the world.
3. Denying Jesus before others, Matthew 10:33 mentions: “But whoever disowns me before others. I will disown before my Father in Heaven.
4. Depend on your own works to save you and/or be a false follower of Christ. Matthew 7-21 - 23 mentions “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me that day, ‘Lord, Lord did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’ Luke 13: 25-27 has a similar message.
Here are some reasons that I share my faith with others are these:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FMK14LoH0iKIpMkxNNfSDao35QowJZHxkDEtI_Xuk8A/edit?usp=sharing
submitted by LaundryCat69 to Christians [link] [comments]
Here is why Good Friday is called Good Friday, what sin is and who sinners are.
Why is Good Friday called Good Friday?
In the case you don't know why Good Friday is Good Friday is it's the day that Jesus died for all of humankind’s sin.
What is sin?
Sin is a thing that if done would be in violation of God's law also it is the thing that separates us from God.
Romans 6:23 mentions: “for the wages of sin is death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” there is no such thing as a sin that doesn't result in not going to heaven.
Also, the word death in this context doesn't mean to cease to exist, it is referring to separation from God.
Who are sinners?
all of us! as mentioned in Romans 3:10,23; Isaiah 64:6 and Psalm 51:5. We are sinners because of the fact that Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, this is mentioned in Genesis 3.
What did Jesus go through on the Cross?
He went through unimaginable suffering as he was dying on the cross for our sins. We all deserve what Jesus went through on the cross and we too deserve to pay for our sins in the fires of hell(Psalm 7:11, 9:17; Romans 6:23, Revelation 20:11-15, 21:8; James 2:10; Jude 1:7; 2nd Thessalonians 1:8,9)
Jesus knew that there needed to be a price paid for all of humankind's sin.
the last things that he said before he died was in Luke 23:34 “Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing” and in John 19:30 where he said “it is finished”
After He said that, He bowed His head and gave up His spirit, then, he was then buried in a tomb and 3 days later God with the power of the Holy Spirit rose Jesus from the dead, As mentioned in 1st Corinthians 15:6 “After that, he appeared to more than 500 of the brothers and sisters at the same time most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep.”
In accordance with 1 Corinthians 15: 1-4, John 3:16,17, and Romans 5:8, He shed His precious blood, dying on the cross for our sins, He was buried, and rose again 3 days later.
Someday He will return, when? That I don't know, only God knows when He is going to return as mentioned in Matthew 24:36 which mentions: “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Mark 13:32 has this message as well.
Also, Matthew 24:44 mentions: So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man(Jesus) will come at an hour when you do not expect him” Luke 12:40 carries this message as well.
Furthermore, when Jesus died on the cross he not only paid the price for mankind's sin, he also took the weight of God's Wrath on him as well. He died on the cross so you can be Saved and go to Heaven.
Why did Jesus Christ go through all the suffering that he went through?
It is because he loves you so much, The love He has for you and us all isn't comparable to the love that for instance your parents have for you, John 3:16 Mentions: ”for God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life”
Also, when Jesus Rose again, he defeated Death, Satan, the world, hell and sin. John 15:13 also mentions: “Greater love has no man than this, to lay down one's life for one’s friends”
It is his literal liquid and precious blood that cleanses and washes our sins away(Hebrews 9:12, 24; 12:24; 1st John 1:7; Revelation 1:5, along with Ephesians 1:7, 2:13; Colossians 1:14,20; Hebrews 9:22, 10:19; 1 Peter 1:18&19; 1 John 1:7; Revelation 1:5)
Here are some Important things to know about God, Jesus Christ and Salvation
Jesus was born of a Virgin(Isaiah 7:14 and Matthew 1:23)
He never sinned(2nd Corinthians 5:21 and Hebrews 4: 15,16)
He is the Lord almighty(John 1:1-3,14 John 10:33; Revelation 1:8, 19:13)
The Godhead incarnate(Colossians 2:9 and 1st Timothy 3:16)
The Godhead exists as Three Persons, namely God the father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit(Colossians 2:2, 9; Matthew 28:19-20; Romans 1:20; Acts 17:29; 2nd John 1:3; Matthew 3:16-17; 1st Timothy 3:16)
Now how salvation works it is through Faith you have salvation and works(Faith = Salvation and works), As mentioned in verses such as Galatians 3:2, 1st Corinthians 1:21, Ephesians 2: 8-9, Romans 4:5, 5:1 and 11:6.
Jesus is the only way to Heaven.
He mentioned in John 14:6 “I am the way and the truth and the life no one comes to the father(God) except for me”
Acts 4:12 also mentions: “ Salvation is found under no one else, for there is no other name given under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”
Jesus too mentioned in Matthew 9:12-13 “On hearing disk Jesus said it is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick”(Verse 12) “but go and learn what this means I desire Mercy not sacrifice. For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners”(Verse 13), Luke 5:31 -32 has this message as well
Now, here are some things about Hell
Jesus Christ made it so that you can be saved from hell and so you could be in Heaven with him for eternity.
Who was Hell made for?
Satan and the devils, not for us humans, but the truth is that if someone rejects Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior then there is no other place for them to go.
John 8:24 mentions: “I told you that you would die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins.”,
Luke 13:3 and 5 mentions: “ I tell you, no!, but unless you repent, you too will all perish”
Part of Mark 16:16 states: “.... but, whoever does not believe will be condemned.”
Part of John 3:18 states: “..... but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only son”
Revelation 20:15 states: “Anyone whose name was not found found in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire”
Amongst the kinds of people listed in Revelation 21:8 include the Unbelievers, these kinds of people along with the others listed there will be thrown into the lake of fire.
Here are some things for people who don't think that Hell is real
And now for the people who don’t think that Hell is real, what if you end up realizing that you are wrong? What if Jesus was telling us the truth? Are you really willing to take that risk and gamble with your soul? Please think about it. Because at some point it will be too late. Also, I’m not intending to scare you with this, I’m wanting to have you saved from hell. Furthermore, you only have one life on earth to decide on where you will go for eternity. Hebrews 9:27 mentions: “Just as people are destined to die once and after that to face judgment”
When is the time to repent?
Now!, is the time to repent of unbelief and believe the Gospel, tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone.
God is calling us to repent, Acts 17:30 mentions: “ In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent.”
Acts 3:19 mentions: “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.”,
Acts 2:38 mentions: “Peter replied’ repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit’.
Mark 1:15 mentions,: “The time has come” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and Believe the Good news!” Matthew 3:2 also mentions this.
Luke 15:7 mentions: “I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” Luke 15:10 also has this message as well.
Here are some more salvation related things and a salvation prayer below:
Acts 16:31 Mentions they replied,” believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved you and your household”
John 6:47 mentions: ‘Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life.”
Romans 10:9 Mentions if you declare with your mouth “Jesus is Lord” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead you will be saved.
Romans 10:13 also mentions for, “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved”.
Also, you must be born again as mentioned in John 3:3, 5, and 7.
Now, here is a prayer to say to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior:
The exact words are not what matters in your prayer to accept him, but what you mean is what matters.
This is the prayer to say:
“Heavenly father, God, I know that I am a sinner in need of your forgiveness, I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins and you raised him from the dead 3 days later, I want to turn away from my sins and to live a Godly life, Please come into my heart Jesus Christ, I now accept you as my Lord and Savior, I am willing to follow you as Lord of my life from this day forward, please fill me with your Holy Spirit, in Jesus name I pray Amen.”
Lastly, here are some things that you will need to avoid:
1. Abusing God’s grace, it is not a license to sin,
Romans 6:1-2 mention: “What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?”(Verse 1), “By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?”(Verse 2)
2. Being a lukewarm Christian,
Revelation 3:16 mentions: “ So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”
What luke warm would look like for instance is hardly or never doing the following: Praying, Reading your Bible and going to church service. It can also be like this, spending one hour in the church and another hour in the club, one hour praising and another hour swearing, one hour in the light and another in the darkness, one hour with the Lord and another with Satan. Take both the cup of the demons and the cup of the Lord(1st Corinthians 10:21). It’s either God or Satan or either Christ the king or the kingdom of the world.
3. Denying Jesus before others, Matthew 10:33 mentions: “But whoever disowns me before others. I will disown before my Father in Heaven.
4. Depend on your own works to save you and/or be a false follower of Christ. Matthew 7-21 - 23 mentions “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me that day, ‘Lord, Lord did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’ Luke 13: 25-27 has a similar message.
Here are some reasons that I share my faith with others are these:
- I don’t want to spend eternity without them
- The book of Revelation lists some horrifying things that are to come that I would not wish on anyone, even my worst enemy
- I don't want them to go to hell.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FMK14LoH0iKIpMkxNNfSDao35QowJZHxkDEtI_Xuk8A/edit?usp=sharing
2024.05.19 08:16 AdamLuyan 2 Revelation
 | 2 Revelation：2.0 Preface；2.1 Peach Flower Catastrophe 1；2.2 Vision Test before Revelation；2.3 Peach Flower Catastrophe 2；2.4 Explanation of Peach Flower Catastrophe；2.5 Peach Flower Catastrophe 3；2.6 Troupe Leader Liu；2.7 Peach Flower Catastrophe 4；2.8 Revelation；2.9 Dad and Troupe Leader Liu submitted by AdamLuyan to LifeTree [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/5g14e58trb1d1.jpg?width=1500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1942a4f5309709019e8c25d309d5f518ec98875a One day in September 1972, Fenglong Cui (Uncle Dragon) from the back street of our house came to our home as a guest. I was happy to hear that he worked at Fushun, near to Shenyang. Mom angrily explained to him: "Last year, Baiyang (my father) led home a fortune-teller, who said our Luyan is a monk fate, so Baiyang engaged him to that man’s daughter. Their family is in Shenyang, so Luyan was happy to hear that you live close to them." Uncle Dragon said, "Ah! It is so, but I see that Luyan, and I are destined to be together!" Saying this, he walked into me, took off his hat, and pointing to his head, said to me: "Look! You resemble me! I'm bald, you're bald, and my name is Big Baldy!" He turned to mom and said, "From now on, we'll call him Second Baldy!" https://preview.redd.it/rlkzob3vrb1d1.jpg?width=268&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1b39703b31d4130f4bf373598372e8c6b84cd74a Mom yelled, "His father's nickname is Third Baldy! Doesn't that mess up the generation! If you like, you can call him Second Baldy yourself. Big Brother-in-Law! Who do you think Luyan looks like? Like me or like his father?" Uncle Dragon: "Hmm! This I must take a good look at! I think he looks like big belly Maitreya (see illustration 2.0-1)!" Mom said in surprise, "You see him as a monk too!" Uncle Dragon busily explained, "I don't know how to tell fortunes! I'm just talking about his rich, chubby look and posture!" I asked, "Mom! What thing is a Buddha?" Mom replied, "Buddha is not a thing! Oops! Look at my mouth! I'd better let your Uncle Dragon explain it to you!" Uncle Dragon said, "Let me think of something to say. Buddha was born from a lotus flower." I asked, "What's a lotus flower?" Mom said, "He's never seen a lotus flower. Here, Mom will draw one for you!" I looked at it and said, "It's a peach flower!" Uncle Dragon said, "Peach flower is fine." Mom shouted, "How can peach flower work! Other people's Buddhas are born from lotus flowers, but my son's Buddha grows on a peach tree." Uncle Dragon argued, "He grew up and smoothed himself over; besides, there is indeed a saying that peach flowers can also give birth to Buddhas." Mom pondered for a while and said, "It seems that there are sayings about peach blossom Buddhas, peach wood wedges and peach wood swords. Let's not talk about monks. Luyan! Your Uncle Dragon was a soldier and knows a lot! Let him tell you a story!" I said, “Uncle Dragon, tell me a story!” Uncle Dragon said, “Good! Then I'll tell you a story, ‘Peach Flower Catastrophe’. (Annotation, the story is about a Peach Flower Buddha.) 2.1 Peach Flower Catastrophe 1 Constant Fair is an orphan since childhood in Publican Liu’s pharmacy as a long laborer. He was not smart since he was a child, score of school was not that good, and always made mistakes when he grew up and learned how to do business. However, Publican Liu not only took good care of him in every aspect, but also always tolerated and harbored him, and did not hold him accountable for his faults. Constant Fair had never met Publican Liu since he was a child; he also often wanted to see him to salute and thank him in person, but it was always out of place, and was disrupted by some strange and unexpected arrangements. Constant Fair knows, Publican Liu is eccentric, often go out to travel, leisure time in the study of ancient books, do not like to see people. In addition, Constant Fair also knows that he is not good health, there is a kind of what, no one can say the strange disease. https://preview.redd.it/hkvjoelzrb1d1.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=183a68c205f22b0c434cb202c2e2f17a48e39346 One day, Publican Liu commissioned a matchmaker to propose marriage to Constant Fair, to betroth his daughter, Peach Flower Girl, to him. He heard that Peach Flower Girl is intelligent, beautiful, and her medical skills are even more brilliant, to her matchmaking are more than to kick through the threshold, is not marriage. The matchmakers showed him articles written by Peach Flower Girl, told him what she had done, and created opportunities for him to meet her, so have a chance to see her in person. Constant Fair saw that Peach Flower Girl was beautiful; the articles she wrote were clearly organized, with wonderful words; the affairs she had done were all skillfully arranged. Constant Fair thought he was not worthy of her, so he refused. As a result, he heard later that the Peach Flower Girl was also unwilling and called him stupid. Some days later, again, Publican Liu asked the matchmaker to marry Peach Flower Girl to Constant Fair and tried to persuade him. Constant Fair finally said, "As long as Peach Flower Girl is willing, I am willing." As a result, Constant Fair heard that Peach Flower Girl was not willing again. After some time, Publican Liu asked the matchmaker to marry Constant Fair and Peach Flower Girl again, saying that, this time, Peach Flower Girl had already agreed. Constant Fair heard that Publican Liu and the matchmakers had been trying to persuade Peach Flower Girl to marry him, and that the father and daughter had quarrelled over the matter often recently. He thought to himself, "This is that Peach Flower Girl let me to delay for a few days so as to let her father have a rest and a few days of fun, and then it is me to reject it. Constant Fair then said to the matchmaker, “I'll think about it then”. After a few days, he told the matchmaker: “No.” In this way, Publican Liu and the matchmakers used many ways to set up the marriage between Peach Flower Girl and Constant Fair, which was a long time coming, but just not possible. Time passed, Peach Flower Girl and Constant Fair both passed the age of normal marriage. （2）Death with Eyes Open In one middle night, a matchmaker who had become friends with Constant Fair came running to tell him, “I don't know what's wrong! Old Publican Liu is acting like crazy! He said he would ‘die with eyes open’, until he sees you and Peach Flower Girl get married, and enter honeymoon house. He also secretly let people in the preparation of a small inner courtyard, to you and the Peach Flower Girl locked inside; not married to not let you two out. I thought, ‘What's going on here! I had to tell you!’ I also found out that they know that you and I are friends and have sent someone to watch me, so I found a chance to sneak out. With that said, I must return, in case of that I am discovered.” https://preview.redd.it/gtaf7xh2sb1d1.jpg?width=1216&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cfdd24204119d192b0620215961d75a053a7440e Constant Fair was shocked when he heard this and thought, “This can't be done! Then I ruin Peach Flower Girl for life! No! I must Leave!” That night, he escaped from Publican Liu's pharmacy. He didn't go back to his hometown because he was afraid that Publican Liu would send someone to catch him. Constant Fair lived a life of anonymity, wandering around. Of course, he also needed to make a living, and later he worked as a shopkeeper in a pharmacy. For the first few years, the business did quite well, and the business grew. Later, he realized that someone was working against him in business and went to resign with the proprietor. The proprietor said, "Now, our business is so big that we can fight with them! I trust you, and I don't blame you if you lose money." Constant Fair said, “I don't want to fight with them. To tell you the truth, I suspect those opponents are related to one of my former benefactors”. The proprietor understood the matter well and said: “In that case! I cannot force you.” Constant Fair left the pharmacy and wandered to another place, where he found another job in a pharmacy. Something similar happened to the last job. He found out that there were against him in business, and still thought that those people were related to the former boss Publican Liu, so he voluntarily gave up the job again. In this way, Constant Fair changed job after job, always feeling that someone was struggling with him and unwilling to fight back against his opponents, but his bad reputation spread, and he couldn't find a job. So, he went back home. On his way to his old village, Constant Fair met a messenger. The messenger asked him, "Do you know Constant Fair from Fair Family Village?" He replied, “I am!” The messenger said, “The people in your home asked me to tell you that your father passed away.” Constant Fair thought to himself, “I have been an orphan since I was a child, and replied, “You are mistaken! I'm not the person you're looking for!” The messenger verified, “XXX County, YYY town, Fair Family Village, the name is Constant Fair!” Constant Fair replied immediately, “Yes! It is me!” The messenger added, “The news that the people in your hometown asked me to convey to you is that your father has passed away. I'm just a messenger, and the rest, I don't know!” At this, Constant Fair felt uncomfortable in his heart and sensed that something was wrong. When he arrived home, he inquired if there was anyone else in the village also name Constant Fair. He found out, in his county, only has one Fair Family Village, and in the past 40 years, only his name is Constant Fair in the Village. For several days in a row, he felt a tightness in his chest. （3）Peach Flower Fortune On this day, Constant Fair went to the marketplace for a walk. From a distance, he saw a group of people surrounding a fortune-teller. Constant Fair never believed in ghosts, gods, fortune-telling, and the like. But somehow! That day he stood at the back of the queue and wanted to listen. The fortune-teller saw Constant Fair immediately and said, “The one at the end of the line is in a hurry! Let him come first! Those in front wait a while.” Constant Fair said, "I'm not in a hurry, I can wait." The fortune-teller said, "Come over here if you're told to!" Constant Fair walked up to the fortune-teller, and before he could say anything, the fortune-teller said, “Congratulation! You've got Peach Flower Fortune (Note 1)!” https://preview.redd.it/w7k1s6u4sb1d1.jpg?width=1352&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=88d8961681e9a1da794c9c17bc2d50ffe8f91833 Note 1, what is peach flower fortune? Equivalent to the Western world's "The Chosen One" (i.e., the Golden Boy, Adam), except that the peach flower fortune is expressed in terms of the woman's (Eve, Jade Girl) beauty, talent, rich, and power to express this concept. How did the fortune teller see it? The Chinese fortune-teller profession and the Chinese juristic teacher profession use the same set of books. The Golden Boy and Jade Girl (Figure 2.1-3; see 10.9 Godly Trinity) is the basic model in that book, and the Peach Flower Catastrophe is one of the main cases in that book. Constant Fair replied, “I don't know! I can still have Peach Flower Fortune!” The fortune teller asked, "In the past, when you worked for someone, was there a proprietor who treated you very well, but you never saw him?" Constant Fair replied, "Yes!" The fortune-teller said, “He is dead, and with eyes glaringly open!” Constant Fair heard, feel the head "buzz" a moment, the sky spinning, earth gravity vanishing, organs are moving. When he calmed down, felt his chest clogged, as if pressing a stone, heard the crowd talking about really God's calculations, a look to know! No wonder that he was said to be in a hurry! Constant Fair turned around and started to walk home. The fortune-teller said: “Wait, I haven't finished yet! I think you really don't know! When Peach Flower Fortune comes, no one can stop it, there's no other way. You can only obey the wish of that old proprietor of yours and go to his house quickly. Even if you must spend all your money to pay for the betrothal gift, you still must gain their favor, wed their daughter, and enter honeymoon house, before you can be relieved of this Peach Flower Catastrophe.” Constant Fair reached into his pocket and realized he had no money with him, so he said, "I'll go back to get the money and return it to you." The fortune-teller said, “No need, I don't want your money.” Constant Fair felt strange and asked why he didn't want his money. The fortune-teller said, “To tell the truth! Judging from your face, you won't live more than a hundred days. It's unlucky to spend dead people's money!" Constant Fair said, "Thank you very much! I will definitely repay you when I have the chance in the future." The fortune-teller added, "Wait! On the way, you must drink more water; drinking water will renew your life. Also, you must keep walking; if you fall, you may never get up again!" Thanking again, Constant Fair went home, packed his bags, and went on his way that night. A few days later, Constant Fair felt his chest getting more and more clogged, his stomach gurgling, and problems with his stomach and intestinal motility; sores began to grow on his skin. Whenever he arrived at a place, he first looked for a well, drank his fill, then filled two jugs of water to carry with him, ate something and immediately rushed on. In this way Constant Fair traveled day and night, rushing to Liu's medicine farm. ↪️ Return to Catalog of Layan’s Memoirs |
2024.05.19 08:06 Mantis_Shrimp47 The monster in the sand dunes turned my brother into a bird
"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”
He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”
Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.
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The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”
He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”
Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.
2024.05.19 07:08 Illustrious_Name_904 Lore on how magic was formed
For anyone working on a world where they can use magic and cast spell/ etc, how deep do you get into your lore/ history. I’m filling out my worlds source of magic and how it’s works/lore. Please read and give feedback or ask questions. I might put out the first 3 chapters soon. Everything has been shortened for time sake.
In my book, the universe as created when Good and Evil had a little fight that basically created the Big Bang. God and Evil were blasted light years away from each other, always having a bond to find each other. Out of this event, we got our first Ethereal which is Spiritus. Ethereals are basically where the source of magic comes from. The Spirit Ethereal is what gave life to the universe. Spiritus then gives birth to Space and Time. Then those siblings basically have their own fight, the energy ends up forming planets and the Dark and Light Ethereals are born. Dark and Light fell in love with Earth and the humans that live there. They wanted to help the little humans so they went onto earth. Right now the Ethereals live in the Ethereal Realm, the only way to enter the humans realm is by entering and exiting through the Void Realm (explained later in the series). To enter the human realm; they must transform themselves into titans, as their infinite source of energy cannot leave the Ethereal realm. The Ethereals cannot be on Earth for a long time as their transformation can be permanent, not allowing them to go back to their realm (the max they can be on earth is 1000 years) After a few years, Good and Evil come back to each other now having to abide by the rules of the universe in which they unknowingly formed . They take possession of Light and Dark, entering the Earth Realm, and using humans as their pawns. This then begins the 1000 year war. (Evil and Good fighting is essential as it then ties back in to our main plot/ prophecy)We then jump to 4 humans sacrificing themselves as they were told countless stories and myths that humans spirits can enter the void realm and potentially meet one of the Ethreals. The humans needed the ethereal to stop the war. They meet the mom, Spiritus. Knowing she couldn’t do anything,(as she was just life itself and powerless) the Balance Ethereal was born from her tears. With the brave sacrifice of the humans, the Balance Ethereal and Spiritus combined their energy to make the sacrificed humans into Ethereals, one representing each element found on Earth- Water Wind Fire Earth Once they help stop the war, the Ethereals made a pact to no longer involve themselves with humans unless it has to do with the universe. Still wanting to help, they bestowed the energy onto humans who wanted the power. (Only a handful for Space, Time and Balance) And to keep some kind of leadership they appointed The Chosen, one for each Ethereal minus Spiritus. The Chosen were given finite power and could cast magic matching their Ethereals energy. Really powerful. They would be the connection to the human realm and the ethereal realm, also given the power to enter the void and ethereal realm. Now jumping to the future. Many people starting only using Ice and Nature magic, which then birthed those Ethereals. So now there’s a difference in wate ice and earth/nature magic. There’s more lore on what happens if an enteral dies. But that is the backstory not how they have magic. Let me know if yall have any questions
submitted by Illustrious_Name_904 to worldbuilding [link] [comments]
In my book, the universe as created when Good and Evil had a little fight that basically created the Big Bang. God and Evil were blasted light years away from each other, always having a bond to find each other. Out of this event, we got our first Ethereal which is Spiritus. Ethereals are basically where the source of magic comes from. The Spirit Ethereal is what gave life to the universe. Spiritus then gives birth to Space and Time. Then those siblings basically have their own fight, the energy ends up forming planets and the Dark and Light Ethereals are born. Dark and Light fell in love with Earth and the humans that live there. They wanted to help the little humans so they went onto earth. Right now the Ethereals live in the Ethereal Realm, the only way to enter the humans realm is by entering and exiting through the Void Realm (explained later in the series). To enter the human realm; they must transform themselves into titans, as their infinite source of energy cannot leave the Ethereal realm. The Ethereals cannot be on Earth for a long time as their transformation can be permanent, not allowing them to go back to their realm (the max they can be on earth is 1000 years) After a few years, Good and Evil come back to each other now having to abide by the rules of the universe in which they unknowingly formed . They take possession of Light and Dark, entering the Earth Realm, and using humans as their pawns. This then begins the 1000 year war. (Evil and Good fighting is essential as it then ties back in to our main plot/ prophecy)We then jump to 4 humans sacrificing themselves as they were told countless stories and myths that humans spirits can enter the void realm and potentially meet one of the Ethreals. The humans needed the ethereal to stop the war. They meet the mom, Spiritus. Knowing she couldn’t do anything,(as she was just life itself and powerless) the Balance Ethereal was born from her tears. With the brave sacrifice of the humans, the Balance Ethereal and Spiritus combined their energy to make the sacrificed humans into Ethereals, one representing each element found on Earth- Water Wind Fire Earth Once they help stop the war, the Ethereals made a pact to no longer involve themselves with humans unless it has to do with the universe. Still wanting to help, they bestowed the energy onto humans who wanted the power. (Only a handful for Space, Time and Balance) And to keep some kind of leadership they appointed The Chosen, one for each Ethereal minus Spiritus. The Chosen were given finite power and could cast magic matching their Ethereals energy. Really powerful. They would be the connection to the human realm and the ethereal realm, also given the power to enter the void and ethereal realm. Now jumping to the future. Many people starting only using Ice and Nature magic, which then birthed those Ethereals. So now there’s a difference in wate ice and earth/nature magic. There’s more lore on what happens if an enteral dies. But that is the backstory not how they have magic. Let me know if yall have any questions
2024.05.19 07:07 Stage-Piercing727 Best Canvas Gym Bags
 | submitted by Stage-Piercing727 to u/Stage-Piercing727 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/2pninai3gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=265f4aea2315e62196c9c90b972c1c04b780af35 Looking for a stylish and durable gym bag? Look no further! In this article, we bring you a comprehensive roundup of the best canvas gym bags available today. Whether you're a fitness enthusiast or a casual gym-goer, these bags are designed to provide ample storage, comfort, and convenience during your workout sessions. So if you're in the market for a reliable workout companion, read on to find the perfect canvas gym bag for your needs. From stylish and functional designs to lightweight and spacious options, our selection of canvas gym bags caters to every preferences and requirements. Discover the top-rated options and make an informed decision on the perfect bag to accompany you throughout your fitness journey. The Top 13 Best Canvas Gym Bags
Reviews🔗Premium Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag for Outdoor Adventureshttps://preview.redd.it/vx6u6dy3gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=21ff96d9424931d91ff36ecb6deb90ccdeef3196 I recently had the chance to test out the Readywares Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag on a camping trip, and it truly exceeded my expectations. The first thing that caught my eye was its timeless design and high-quality waxed canvas construction. It's no wonder this bag has a rating of 4.7 out of 5, as users consistently rave about its craftsmanship. Before my trip, I was a little concerned about the stiffness of the waxed canvas, but it quickly softened up as I loaded it with my camping gear. I particularly appreciated the padded handle and base support, which made carrying the duffel bag comfortable and easy, regardless of how heavy it got. The storage options in this Readywares duffel bag are quite impressive as well. With multiple compartments, I had no trouble keeping my items organized throughout my trip. The only downside was the lack of an interior pouch, which would have been beneficial for smaller items. In conclusion, the Readywares Waxed Canvas Duffel Bag is a reliable and stylish choice for anyone in need of a high-quality carryall. Its craftsmanship, storage options, and overall size make it a perfect companion for various activities, ranging from weekend getaways to camping trips. However, it could benefit from the addition of an interior pouch to keep smaller items secure. 🔗Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Baghttps://preview.redd.it/n5hpsm84gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6c29f049e961ac7d16f8e75b3c700d555d923f8e The WHITEDUCK Hoplite Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Bag in Blue is an indispensable travel companion that you can take along no matter where life leads you. This sturdy bag boasts a whopping 204L capacity, perfect for packing all your essentials for a weekend getaway or longer excursions. One of its key features is the high-quality, double-fill cotton canvas with a tight weave, ensuring durability and wear and tear resistance. The weatherproof fabric is reinforced at all stress points too, making it incredibly sturdy. Plus, the fully zipped compartment offers ample space to store larger items without any hassle. A standout feature is the heavy-duty, full-length zippers that can handle oversized and bulky items with ease. The soft and ultra-reliable cotton carry handles equipped with a Velcro tag for quick lifting and carrying add convenience. And let's not forget about the adjustable, removable padded shoulder strap for maximum comfort. The bag's versatility is another significant highlight. Whether you're going camping, using it for gym storage, or during your daily commute, the Hoplite Duffel Bag adapts seamlessly to all your needs. On the downside, some users have mentioned that the bag's dimensions can be a bit confusing initially, but after figuring it out, its performance has exceeded all expectations. In a nutshell, the WHITEDUCK Hoplite Heavy Duty Military Canvas Duffel Bag combines durability, capacity, and versatility to provide a top-notch travel experience. Its excellent workmanship gives it the robustness and longevity you desire in a duffel bag. This product is undoubtedly a worthwhile investment for those seeking a reliable travel companion. 🔗Extra Large Capacity Canvas Duffel Baghttps://preview.redd.it/fudl88o4gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=52537af64f56bfdaa4d1f21e870515ce2e9cdc7e I recently found myself in need of a reliable and spacious bag for a camping trip, and that's when I came across the YoKelly 36 inch Canvas Duffel Bag. I have to say, this high-quality canvas duffel has been a game-changer for all my outdoor adventures since then. I was initially skeptical about the capacity given its light weight of just 1.2 lbs, but boy, was I in for a pleasant surprise. This Deluxe Canvas Duffel Bag truly delivers on its promise of a spacious 100L storage capacity, making it perfect for travel, camping, fishing, and sports as well. The high-quality canvas ensures durability and the solid stitching provides extra strength and resistance against wear and tear. Its dimensions of 36x13x13 inches are just the right size for packing all my essentials without feeling bulky or cumbersome. However, one minor drawback I noticed is that it only has one compartment for organization. While this didn't cause any major issues during my camping trip, I do wish there were additional pockets for smaller items to keep everything more organized. Overall, the YoKelly 36 inch Canvas Duffel Bag has made my life so much easier and more convenient, offering ample storage space in a lightweight, durable, and versatile package. If you're on the hunt for the perfect travel, camping, or sports bag, I highly recommend giving this duffel a try. 🔗Durable Military Canvas Duffle Bag for Long Tripshttps://preview.redd.it/j9z5erz4gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4fbebbd6271366160de8ec3c20d4ae86a9ba5495 When I first laid my eyes on the Rothco Gi Style Canvas Double Strap Duffle Bag, I knew that it was a perfect match for my travel needs. This military-inspired bag checks all the boxes for durability, ample storage space, and versatile carrying options. Made of 22 oz heavyweight cotton canvas material, it's been built with utmost durability, making it the go-to option for all your long and short trips. The generous dimensions of 22 inches x 38 inches allow me to pack plenty of clothes and gear effortlessly. I especially love the adjustable shoulder straps and the sturdy handle for conveniently carrying it like a suitcase or a backpack. This flexibility gives me the freedom to pack even more stuff while ensuring comfort on long commutes. The additional side pocket with a snap closure is a bonus for keeping small items or travel documents organized and easily accessible. I've been using this duffle bag for everything from overnight trips to the gym and it has exceeded my expectations in every way. However, some users have reported a strong odor upon receiving the item. This can be a bit off-putting, but a couple of washes usually do the trick. The Rothco Gi Style Canvas Double Strap Duffle Bag is a smart buy for anyone looking for a reliable, large-capacity bag made from high-quality materials. Its versatile design, durability, and practical features make it an ideal choice for all your travel adventures. 🔗Steeletex Antimicrobial Gym Bag in Navyhttps://preview.redd.it/nulppjb5gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=712cd2feb44222cbb511154d7b66cfff1e3e3e88 I recently got introduced to the Steeletex Gym Bag by Steele Canvas, and I must say, I've been thoroughly impressed with its performance and quality. The first thing that caught my eye was the unique construction material - it's not your regular canvas or nylon bag. This one has an antimicrobial vinyl coating that not only provides water resistance but also ensures easy cleaning. One of the standout features of this bag is its size. It's perfect for holding all my gym clothes, sneakers, and even my favorite water bottle. I've been using it regularly since I got it, and it has shown no signs of wear and tear yet. Speaking of which, the durability of this bag is another highlight. 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Plus, knowing that it's made in America by hardworking American craftsmen adds an extra layer of satisfaction to my purchase. I would highly recommend this bag to anyone looking for a reliable and high-quality gym bag. 🔗Classic Canvas Duffle Bag for Travelhttps://preview.redd.it/9p0zegu5gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=51a81f51f1965da95f5a011d4550b16b3373c90c First off, picture yourself embarking on a weekend getaway with nothing more than this trusty Trailmaker duffel bag at your side. The 30-liter capacity ensures you'll have ample space for all your essentials - be it clothes, shoes, or even your favorite dance attire for weekend classes! And don't worry about wearing it out yet. This durable canvas bag is built to last, so you can make countless travel adventures with it. One thing I noticed about this bag is how versatile it really is. Not only does it serve as an excellent carry-on for flights, but it proved to be quite handy for daily trips to the gym as well. Its lightweight design ensures easy portability, especially when combined with its adjustable shoulder strap. Plus, the simple yet elegant design pairs well with any outfit, whether you're dressing up or down. However, there are some cons to consider. Some users reported issues with the quality of the bag, particularly the zipper which tends to jam often. The lack of compartments inside can also lead to a messy bag when overstuffed. However, considering its affordable price point and high ratings among users, these minor drawbacks seem overshadowed by the overall positive experience most reviewers have had with this bag. Overall, the Trailmaker duffel bag is a reliable choice for individuals seeking a spacious, durable, and affordable bag for travel, gym use, or everyday needs. Despite some reported issues with the zipper and lack of compartments, the majority of reviewers seem satisfied with their purchase, highlighting the immense utility and convenience offered by this bag. 🔗Classic Vintage Duffle Baghttps://preview.redd.it/vnmvuu46gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=59daea38662ad9f1fd7434ad575680f64f8592e7 I recently had the chance to try out the Sweetbriar Classic Weekender Duffel and I must say, it's been a game-changer for my travel needs. The moment I laid my eyes on its vintage-inspired canvas design with retro rucksack vibe, I knew this bag meant serious style. One of the features that really stood out was its spacious interior. It comfortably fit all my essentials for a weekend getaway, including clothes, toiletries, and even some extras like a small travel pillow. Speaking of extras, the bag has several pockets both outside and inside, which are perfect for storing smaller items like wallets or keys. Another thing I appreciated was how easy it was to clean. I'm known for being a bit clumsy, so accidents are inevitable. But with this duffel, a damp cloth was enough to wipe away any spills or stains. However, there was one issue I encountered. The zipper closure, while sturdy and secure, was a bit tricky to navigate at times. It took me a few attempts to get it right, which felt a little frustrating. All in all, I'm quite satisfied with the Sweetbriar Classic Weekender Duffel. It's stylish, practical, and well-built, making it an ideal choice for short trips or gym sessions. It's definitely worth considering if you're in the market for a new bag. 🔗MOLLYGAN Large Capacity Canvas Gym Baghttps://preview.redd.it/dyutqkh6gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=be53c4b16e4f4756fc1e97e0a390a28a28ed4a06 I've never been the type to travel lightly - I've always packed everything but the kitchen sink. But recently, I stumbled upon this MOLLYGAN Travel Duffel Bag, and I must say, my travel game just leveled up! The black exterior made it perfect for both genders, but what really caught my eye was the superior-quality, soft and smooth canvas material. The structure of this bag is quite impressive too. The side zipper pocket provided a separate space for my shoes (goodbye, smelly gym bag! ) whereas the spacious main compartment and small zipper pocket proved that even though the bag was large in capacity, it was well-organized. Its 35 liters capacity was more than enough to accommodate all my laptops, A4 books, clothes, and daily essentials. Whether going for a leisurely trip or a hectic gym session, this bag had my back. Measuring 18.8 x 10.2 x 11 inches, the bag was just the right size for convenience yet offered so much space. However, the product did have one hiccup, the shoulder strap. It was long and adjustable, but at times, it felt a bit too long, and the handles could have been a tad longer, making it a little harder to carry around. In conclusion, the MOLLYGAN Travel Duffel Bag has undoubtedly improved my daily travel experiences. With its large capacity, durable construction, and ample organization options, it has become a necessity for my daily activities. While it could do with a few adjustments (pun intended), it has nonetheless proven to be a reliable companion. 🔗Military-Grade Canvas Duffel Backpackhttps://preview.redd.it/mw7zj5w6gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8834e11142011dbcdc59b5b3aca467f7739586cd I recently embarked on a weekend getaway with just the Military Duffel Backpack in tow. The modern green color added a trendy touch to my outfit, and upon closer inspection, I could see that the canvas duffel was indeed made of high-quality, water-repellent material. I felt confident that my belongings were well-protected, even in a sudden downpour. The adjustable shoulder straps came in handy as I traversed through the crowded city streets, allowing me to find the perfect fit and distributing the weight of my stuff evenly. One feature I particularly appreciated was the heavy-duty cross-stitched carrying handle. I found it incredibly useful when I wanted to switch up my carrying style and convert the backpack into a traditional duffel bag. The stainless eyelets and rugged buckles made the whole process incredibly smooth and secure. However, I did encounter a minor issue with the top clasp that held everything closed. It was slightly smaller than the holes on the flaps, so the bag wasn't completely sealed. While this didn't affect its overall performance during my trip, I did have to exercise a bit more caution to prevent anything from slipping out. To sum it up, the Military Duffel Backpack is a reliable and fashionable bag that offers ample space and thoughtful storage options. The canvas material ensures durability and water resistance, while the adjustable straps offer comfort and convenience. Although the top clasp could be slightly improved, I would definitely recommend this backpack for travelers and everyday adventurers alike! 🔗Extra Large Yoga Mat Duffel Bag with Hammockhttps://preview.redd.it/ru42be77gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c1ca7e587c46f27f4cf6bf689a94a6466b4daee5 I've been using the Kindfolk Yoga Mat XL Duffel Bag Mesa for a few weeks now and I must say, it's been a game-changer for my daily yoga practice. The highlight of this bag is undoubtedly the ample amount of space it provides. After spending days googling 'XL yoga duffel bags', I finally decided to give this one a shot when I saw that it could fit multiple yoga mats, blocks and towels - and boy, was it true! I've never been able to bring everything I need to the studio or gym with such ease. Another thing that I absolutely love about this bag is that it's vegan and environmentally friendly. As someone who's conscious about their impact on the environment, knowing that I'm using a product that aligns with my values gives me peace of mind. Plus, for every unit sold, Kindfolk donates $1 to FITS STANDARD, a charity that helps end slavery worldwide. However, one of the cons I noticed is that the straps could be slightly longer. While it's not a deal-breaker for me, it can be a bit cumbersome when carrying it on top of everything else. All in all, I am thrilled with my purchase and would definitely recommend it to others. Not only is it spacious and stylish, but it also feels well-made and of high quality. For those looking for a reliable and environmentally-friendly bag for their yoga practice, the Kindfolk Yoga Mat XL Duffel Bag is definitely worth considering. 🔗Casual Canvas Travel Gym Bag for daily jog or triphttps://preview.redd.it/028p45j7gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5a4272acaf25dc3fd3b5fbc710c447805a213524 Imagine this: I'm strolling down the bustling city streets, and my trusty Vagabond Traveler Casual Canvas Bag is by my side. This bag isn't just a carry-all for my gym gear; it's a statement about my sense of style and practicality. The first time I used this bag, I was blown away by its spacious interior. It holds everything I need for a workout and more, from my sneakers to my sweat towel, and even a spare change of clothes. The multiple pockets (and there are plenty) kept me organized and efficient, making my mornings just a little bit easier. The Vagabond Traveler bag's construction is a testament to its craftsmanship. This bag isn't just made to last; it's made to look good while doing it. The canvas is a beautiful shade of khaki, and the vintage brass hardware adds a touch of class. The cotton fabric is incredibly comfortable to carry, and it's clear that it's been washed and worn to achieve its classic, old-school appearance. Now, every time I strap this canvas bag onto my shoulder, I'm reminded of its many merits. It's the perfect blend of practicality, durability, and visual appeal. However, some users may find the strap too long or the lack of waterproofing a concern. But for me, these minor quibbles don't detract from the overall quality and utility of this amazing gym bag. In conclusion, the Vagabond Traveler Casual Canvas Bag has become an indispensable part of my daily life. Its combination of space, organization, and style makes it the ideal choice for anyone looking for a reliable gym bag that's both functional and fashionable. 🔗Durable Waxed Canvas Duffle Baghttps://preview.redd.it/8d14r128gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=00e1e6a80d0c05de04d77a435dd45950627c8ac8 I recently purchased the Steele Canvas Waxed Canvas Duffle Bag for an upcoming travel adventure, and I must say, it has surpassed all of my expectations. As soon as I laid my eyes on it, I was impressed by its sleek and sturdy appearance, which instantly made me feel confident about its durability. The adjustable shoulder strap and brown leather grip handles felt comfortable against my shoulder and hands, making it a pleasure to carry around. The moment I unzipped the bag, I noticed the generous space inside, perfect for holding all of my essentials without any clutter. The two interior pockets are an added bonus, allowing me to keep my smaller items organized and easily accessible. The exterior side and end pockets have also proven to be quite useful for storing my frequently needed items. One of the key features I truly appreciated is the nickel plated zipper and pull, making it easy for me to secure my belongings without any worry about potential malfunctions. Steele Canvas has truly created a high-quality, durable bag that is sure to withstand the test of time. Despite the minor inconvenience of needing two hands to secure the zipper on the outside pocket, I believe this duffle bag is a perfect addition to my travel collection. The Steele Canvas Waxed Canvas Duffle Bag has definitely made a lasting impression on me, and I am already looking forward to using it on countless more adventures. 🔗Durable and Versatile Military-Grade Canvas Gym Baghttps://preview.redd.it/ndwsbla8gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=23a77d45be6c0b639381d50961e59b04f7aff422 As a product reviewer, I recently got the chance to try out the Medium Duffle Bag in black, and my experience has been nothing short of exceptional. I've been using it for everything from weekend trips to gym sessions, and it's truly become a staple in my daily routine. The bag's most striking feature, hands down, is its heavy-duty construction. The double and triple-needle-stitched reinforced design not only gives it a sleek look that fits any environment but also ensures that it can handle even the heaviest loads without a hitch. I've noticed its durability in various situations - from transporting bulky sports gear to storing off-season clothing, this duffel bag has never let me down. One of the things I love about this duffel bag is how versatile it is. Made from lightweight yet durable cotton canvas, it's perfect for travel, sports, and leisure activities. Its convenient collapsible feature when not in use makes storage a breeze, and it's been especially useful during my many camping trips. Despite its size, the bag is surprisingly easy to carry around. Reinforced handles and adjustable shoulder straps make sure that I can handle even the heaviest loads comfortably. Plus, the two-way zipper and key-locking mechanism offer extra security for my belongings. However, one small area of improvement could be the weight of the bag itself. While it's definitely not a deal-breaker, considering the durability and high-quality materials used, some users might find it slightly heavier than desired. All in all, I'm extremely satisfied with my Medium Duffle Bag. Its combination of sturdy construction, versatility, and ease of use make it a worthwhile investment for anyone in need of a reliable bag for travel, sports, or everyday use. Buyer's GuideCanvas gym bags are a versatile and stylish choice for active people who prioritize functionality and quality. With the right features and construction, these bags can become an essential part of your fitness routine, ensuring that your gear stays organized and protected during workouts and commutes.Important Featureshttps://preview.redd.it/2z69m8r8gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0448721c5b560ead176ce13e8bed48e6c0f4d72e
Considerations
General Advice
https://preview.redd.it/84isyv89gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=eeb51bbcc7b25a80254804c73a4ddc9fbd802018 FAQWhat are Canvas Gym Bags and what are they used for?Canvas Gym Bags are sturdy, versatile, and environmentally friendly bags designed for carrying sports and workout clothing, shoes, and accessories. Made from high-quality canvas material, they are suitable for various activities, including gym workouts, swimming, yoga, and outdoor sports.Why should I choose a Canvas Gym Bag over other materials?https://preview.redd.it/8g3ow8p9gb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=539d40a4189e82fcaf7dc4dfded681d3fa308f5f Canvas Gym Bags are eco-friendly and have multiple benefits compared to other materials. They are lightweight, durable, and easy to maintain. Canvas is a breathable material that ensures items inside stay fresh and odor-free. Additionally, canvas is moisture-resistant, making it perfect for storing damp towels and swimsuits. How do I know if a Canvas Gym Bag is waterproof?High-quality Canvas Gym Bags are often treated with water-resistant coatings and may include waterproof zippers or compartments. Check the product description or contact the manufacturer for specific information about water resistance.Do Canvas Gym Bags have compartments for organizing my workout gear?Yes, most Canvas Gym Bags come with multiple compartments and pockets designed to organize your workout essentials. Many bags feature separate shoe compartments, a wet pocket for storing damp items, and small pockets for storing smaller items like keys, wallets, and phones. https://preview.redd.it/h9utri5agb1d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=adb8b5cc01275872e0fe1543270afe579eb34bd4 How do I clean a Canvas Gym Bag?Cleaning a Canvas Gym Bag is easy and can be done at home. Simply remove any dirt or debris with a soft brush or cloth. Then, mix a few drops of gentle detergent with water and gently clean the bag's interior and exterior. Rinse thoroughly and air dry away from direct sunlight. It is recommended to consult the manufacturer's care instructions for specific cleaning guidance.How do I choose the right size for a Canvas Gym Bag?Selecting the right size depends on the type and amount of workout gear you'll be carrying. Consider the dimensions of the bag and the volume it can hold. If you're unsure, read reviews from other customers or consult the manufacturer's recommendations for size guidance.Are Canvas Gym Bags suitable for travel?Yes, Canvas Gym Bags are versatile and can be used for travel. Their durability and lightweight nature make them suitable for short trips and weekend getaways. Some Canvas Gym Bags even come with additional features, such as luggage tags or straps, to make traveling easier.Can Canvas Gym Bags be personalized or customized?Yes, many manufacturers offer customization options for Canvas Gym Bags. This can include adding your name or initials, choosing a specific design or pattern, or even selecting custom colors. Personalized or customized bags make great gifts and can help you easily identify your bag amidst a crowded gym or locker room.What is the price range for Canvas Gym Bags?The price range for Canvas Gym Bags varies depending on factors such as size, quality, and additional features. Prices can range from $20 for basic models to over $100 for high-end, designer options. Consider your budget and specific needs when selecting a Canvas Gym Bag to ensure you get the best value for your money.As an Amazon™ Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. |
2024.05.19 06:56 Illustrious_Name_904 Omnes Academy -Creation of Magic (Magic Fantasy/ 605 words)
For anyone working on a world where they can use magic and cast spell/ etc, how deep do you get into your lore/ history. I’m filling out my worlds source of magic and how it’s works/lore. Please read and give feedback or ask questions. I might put out the first 3 chapters soon. Everything has been shortened for time sake.
In my book, the universe as created when Good and Evil had a little fight that basically created the Big Bang. God and Evil were blasted light years away from each other, always having a bond to find each other. Out of this event, we got our first Ethereal which is Spiritus. Ethereals are basically where the source of magic comes from. The Spirit Ethereal is what gave life to the universe. Spiritus then gives birth to Space and Time. Then those siblings basically have their own fight, the energy ends up forming planets and the Dark and Light Ethereals are born. Dark and Light fell in love with Earth and the humans that live there. They wanted to help the little humans so they went onto earth. Right now the Ethereals live in the Ethereal Realm, the only way to enter the humans realm is by entering and exiting through the Void Realm (explained later in the series). To enter the human realm; they must transform themselves into titans, as their infinite source of energy cannot leave the Ethereal realm. The Ethereals cannot be on Earth for a long time as their transformation can be permanent, not allowing them to go back to their realm (the max they can be on earth is 1000 years) After a few years, Good and Evil come back to each other now having to abide by the rules of the universe in which they unknowingly formed . They take possession of Light and Dark, entering the Earth Realm, and using humans as their pawns. This then begins the 1000 year war. (Evil and Good fighting is essential as it then ties back in to our main plot/ prophecy)We then jump to 4 humans sacrificing themselves as they were told countless stories and myths that humans spirits can enter the void realm and potentially meet one of the Ethreals. The humans needed the ethereal to stop the war. They meet the mom, Spiritus. Knowing she couldn’t do anything,(as she was just life itself and powerless) the Balance Ethereal was born from her tears. With the brave sacrifice of the humans, the Balance Ethereal and Spiritus combined their energy to make the sacrificed humans into Ethereals, one representing each element found on Earth- Water Wind Fire Earth Once they help stop the war, the Ethereals made a pact to no longer involve themselves with humans unless it has to do with the universe. Still wanting to help, they bestowed the energy onto humans who wanted the power. (Only a handful for Space, Time and Balance) And to keep some kind of leadership they appointed The Chosen, one for each Ethereal minus Spiritus. The Chosen were given finite power and could cast magic matching their Ethereals energy. Really powerful. They would be the connection to the human realm and the ethereal realm, also given the power to enter the void and ethereal realm. Now jumping to the future. Many people starting only using Ice and Nature magic, which then birthed those Ethereals. So now there’s a difference in wate ice and earth/nature magic. There’s more lore on what happens if an enteral dies. But that is the backstory not how they have magic. Let me know if yall have any questions
submitted by Illustrious_Name_904 to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
In my book, the universe as created when Good and Evil had a little fight that basically created the Big Bang. God and Evil were blasted light years away from each other, always having a bond to find each other. Out of this event, we got our first Ethereal which is Spiritus. Ethereals are basically where the source of magic comes from. The Spirit Ethereal is what gave life to the universe. Spiritus then gives birth to Space and Time. Then those siblings basically have their own fight, the energy ends up forming planets and the Dark and Light Ethereals are born. Dark and Light fell in love with Earth and the humans that live there. They wanted to help the little humans so they went onto earth. Right now the Ethereals live in the Ethereal Realm, the only way to enter the humans realm is by entering and exiting through the Void Realm (explained later in the series). To enter the human realm; they must transform themselves into titans, as their infinite source of energy cannot leave the Ethereal realm. The Ethereals cannot be on Earth for a long time as their transformation can be permanent, not allowing them to go back to their realm (the max they can be on earth is 1000 years) After a few years, Good and Evil come back to each other now having to abide by the rules of the universe in which they unknowingly formed . They take possession of Light and Dark, entering the Earth Realm, and using humans as their pawns. This then begins the 1000 year war. (Evil and Good fighting is essential as it then ties back in to our main plot/ prophecy)We then jump to 4 humans sacrificing themselves as they were told countless stories and myths that humans spirits can enter the void realm and potentially meet one of the Ethreals. The humans needed the ethereal to stop the war. They meet the mom, Spiritus. Knowing she couldn’t do anything,(as she was just life itself and powerless) the Balance Ethereal was born from her tears. With the brave sacrifice of the humans, the Balance Ethereal and Spiritus combined their energy to make the sacrificed humans into Ethereals, one representing each element found on Earth- Water Wind Fire Earth Once they help stop the war, the Ethereals made a pact to no longer involve themselves with humans unless it has to do with the universe. Still wanting to help, they bestowed the energy onto humans who wanted the power. (Only a handful for Space, Time and Balance) And to keep some kind of leadership they appointed The Chosen, one for each Ethereal minus Spiritus. The Chosen were given finite power and could cast magic matching their Ethereals energy. Really powerful. They would be the connection to the human realm and the ethereal realm, also given the power to enter the void and ethereal realm. Now jumping to the future. Many people starting only using Ice and Nature magic, which then birthed those Ethereals. So now there’s a difference in wate ice and earth/nature magic. There’s more lore on what happens if an enteral dies. But that is the backstory not how they have magic. Let me know if yall have any questions
2024.05.19 06:35 dele1987 My Speculations on Polin in Part 2
I need to write this out cause I’m sitting in bed ruminating on what I think is to come and can’t think straight…need to organize my mind of things I think will happen in each ep.
Ep 5: Telling their families. Fight with Eloise she tells her she needs to tell him but doesn’t force her hand in this confrontation. Portia getting some angry Colin when he goes to declare he is gonna marry her and then be like oh yeah and do we have your permission cause I already told my family first. Maybe this leads to a heart to heart with Pen/Portia after Colin leaves. Drawing room scene this episode? Engagement party towards end of ep 5? Eloise ultimatum before engagement party.
What if Colin finds out about LW from Penelope after she faints at the engagement party. He takes her to his room or something. Or he visits her at her home to check on how she is feeling. MVP Rae helps. She just can’t keep it inside anymore and confesses because she knows she can’t marry him without telling him not because of an ultimatum but because he deserves to know and to decide. Consent in all things and all ways works both ways. I need him to know. She tries to tell him her reasons, he doesn’t want to hear it, he gets angry and says hurtful things.
He leaves. She cries. He take some space but they reconcile because he loves her. He finds out she has always loved him. Not sure we will get Colin’s love confession too… but I mean hopefully his confounded feelings are clear to him to be love and not just like cause we all know he loves her. She promises that she is done with LW. She apologizes for the hurt she has caused and explains her truth in the choices me made without excuses just honesty. She gives up LW for Colin. She publishes a goodbye issue and that is enough for Eloise to let it go Tick Tock wise but they are still broken up as friends.
Ep 6: They get married at the beginning of this episode. We better get an actual wedding for POLIN. And a wedding on the show that’s not filled with drama. I need a wedding with no LW secret hanging over them. I need it! Everyone is on a hunt for LW because the Queen is sad no issues are coming out and so does that bounty to find her. Pen and Colin are married and move to their house and have lots of sex including the mirror scene. I cannot have them do a mirror scene before he knows the truth. The whole point is to see her ALL of her and vice versa. No lies please Shondaland. They are enjoying marital bliss. Cressida has the pressure of being sold (married) to some old man so she declares herself to be LW due to the Queens Bounty. Pen ain’t gonna let her steal her life’s work and breaks her promise to Colin by publishing one more last issue and calls Cressida out. Colin catches her doing this. End of episode.
Ep 7: Now this is where we see the really angry Colin. He is pissed that she endangered herself, did this without talking to him, and broke her promise. They have it out in the carriage. Unless the writers decide to go for a carriage kink I cannot foresee sexy times in Carriage 2.0. They continue to have it out at home and they are both crying, angry, and FINALY really honest. Colin about his jealousy and Pen about her fears, insecurities, and what LW has been/meant for her all these years and that she felt she had to give it up to not lose Colin. Love Confession from Colin? Stay x3 this episode. Colin supporting her writing and her supporting his.
Ep 8: LW bargain/alliance with Queen to save her family. Colin having Pen edit his writing and telling her he is working on a book. Pen being a new version of LW? Heir Plot is left for S4? I kinda don’t want Pen and Colin to be weighed down to the Featheringtons but I kinda also want Pen to save her family this way and them to bow down to her supremely cause I’m petty vs having LW/Pen at the Queen’s mercy.
Epilogue: They leave for Greece or any city that’s not one of the 17 Colin fucked around in for their honeymoon. J/K…sort of…not really.
I have read the book…but I do I wonder if the TON won’t know till next season? Like do they even need to know? The consequences of them knowing in the book versus in the show. Stakes are so much higher on the shoe. This season just Eloise and Colin and maybe the Queen
submitted by dele1987 to BridgertonNetflix [link] [comments]
Ep 5: Telling their families. Fight with Eloise she tells her she needs to tell him but doesn’t force her hand in this confrontation. Portia getting some angry Colin when he goes to declare he is gonna marry her and then be like oh yeah and do we have your permission cause I already told my family first. Maybe this leads to a heart to heart with Pen/Portia after Colin leaves. Drawing room scene this episode? Engagement party towards end of ep 5? Eloise ultimatum before engagement party.
What if Colin finds out about LW from Penelope after she faints at the engagement party. He takes her to his room or something. Or he visits her at her home to check on how she is feeling. MVP Rae helps. She just can’t keep it inside anymore and confesses because she knows she can’t marry him without telling him not because of an ultimatum but because he deserves to know and to decide. Consent in all things and all ways works both ways. I need him to know. She tries to tell him her reasons, he doesn’t want to hear it, he gets angry and says hurtful things.
He leaves. She cries. He take some space but they reconcile because he loves her. He finds out she has always loved him. Not sure we will get Colin’s love confession too… but I mean hopefully his confounded feelings are clear to him to be love and not just like cause we all know he loves her. She promises that she is done with LW. She apologizes for the hurt she has caused and explains her truth in the choices me made without excuses just honesty. She gives up LW for Colin. She publishes a goodbye issue and that is enough for Eloise to let it go Tick Tock wise but they are still broken up as friends.
Ep 6: They get married at the beginning of this episode. We better get an actual wedding for POLIN. And a wedding on the show that’s not filled with drama. I need a wedding with no LW secret hanging over them. I need it! Everyone is on a hunt for LW because the Queen is sad no issues are coming out and so does that bounty to find her. Pen and Colin are married and move to their house and have lots of sex including the mirror scene. I cannot have them do a mirror scene before he knows the truth. The whole point is to see her ALL of her and vice versa. No lies please Shondaland. They are enjoying marital bliss. Cressida has the pressure of being sold (married) to some old man so she declares herself to be LW due to the Queens Bounty. Pen ain’t gonna let her steal her life’s work and breaks her promise to Colin by publishing one more last issue and calls Cressida out. Colin catches her doing this. End of episode.
Ep 7: Now this is where we see the really angry Colin. He is pissed that she endangered herself, did this without talking to him, and broke her promise. They have it out in the carriage. Unless the writers decide to go for a carriage kink I cannot foresee sexy times in Carriage 2.0. They continue to have it out at home and they are both crying, angry, and FINALY really honest. Colin about his jealousy and Pen about her fears, insecurities, and what LW has been/meant for her all these years and that she felt she had to give it up to not lose Colin. Love Confession from Colin? Stay x3 this episode. Colin supporting her writing and her supporting his.
Ep 8: LW bargain/alliance with Queen to save her family. Colin having Pen edit his writing and telling her he is working on a book. Pen being a new version of LW? Heir Plot is left for S4? I kinda don’t want Pen and Colin to be weighed down to the Featheringtons but I kinda also want Pen to save her family this way and them to bow down to her supremely cause I’m petty vs having LW/Pen at the Queen’s mercy.
Epilogue: They leave for Greece or any city that’s not one of the 17 Colin fucked around in for their honeymoon. J/K…sort of…not really.
I have read the book…but I do I wonder if the TON won’t know till next season? Like do they even need to know? The consequences of them knowing in the book versus in the show. Stakes are so much higher on the shoe. This season just Eloise and Colin and maybe the Queen
2024.05.19 06:07 Individual_Return474 Sick Hognoses at Expo
I went to an expo recently and was horrified at what I saw. One of the vendors was selling sick hognoses.
One had a pustle coming from her head, a large scabbed wound on her face, an umbilical cord that never fully closed, and she was emaciated. She had the figure of a pyramid and had recently laid a clutch.
Another had laid a clutch as well, also emaciated and shaped like a pyramid with a bulbed tail.
And one that had a good weight, but once you lifted her up she had 2 belly scales completely lifted with a massive pocket of yellow green puss under it. She was sticky, and they all smelled FOUL. My sense of smell is horrible and I could smell it before I even got to the table. My hands reeked!!!
After I walked away I immediately sanitized my hands and washed them. After I got home I showered and put all my clothes in the wash.
I've never seen a hognose in such a horrible state before, does anyone know what the puss could be? The vendor said it was a dry scale or it happened from them rubbing on their water dishes (which I don't believe) I have a good idea of what could cause the scab and their skin and bones figure, but no idea what all the puss could be. Let alone what could cause it.
I feel so horrible seeing those poor babies in the state they were in that I want to reach out to the vendor about taking them in. Their other animals looked great (at a glance at least), and I had bought a BTS off them a few years ago. I don't know if it would even be possible, but I want to help them despite knowing how bad an idea it is. Not only that, but the prices on their deli cups were as much as $500!! However, they did offer a discounted price
I don't have receipts, I don't have proof other than the people I went with seeing it. I reported this all to the event staff as well and will be following up with an individual who hopefully went to the table to see if they were removed. I will not be naming the vendor because I do not have proof and potentially want to rescue these animals.
If anyone has advise please share, especially if it's pertaining to the puss filled wounds
submitted by Individual_Return474 to hognosesnakes [link] [comments]
One had a pustle coming from her head, a large scabbed wound on her face, an umbilical cord that never fully closed, and she was emaciated. She had the figure of a pyramid and had recently laid a clutch.
Another had laid a clutch as well, also emaciated and shaped like a pyramid with a bulbed tail.
And one that had a good weight, but once you lifted her up she had 2 belly scales completely lifted with a massive pocket of yellow green puss under it. She was sticky, and they all smelled FOUL. My sense of smell is horrible and I could smell it before I even got to the table. My hands reeked!!!
After I walked away I immediately sanitized my hands and washed them. After I got home I showered and put all my clothes in the wash.
I've never seen a hognose in such a horrible state before, does anyone know what the puss could be? The vendor said it was a dry scale or it happened from them rubbing on their water dishes (which I don't believe) I have a good idea of what could cause the scab and their skin and bones figure, but no idea what all the puss could be. Let alone what could cause it.
I feel so horrible seeing those poor babies in the state they were in that I want to reach out to the vendor about taking them in. Their other animals looked great (at a glance at least), and I had bought a BTS off them a few years ago. I don't know if it would even be possible, but I want to help them despite knowing how bad an idea it is. Not only that, but the prices on their deli cups were as much as $500!! However, they did offer a discounted price
I don't have receipts, I don't have proof other than the people I went with seeing it. I reported this all to the event staff as well and will be following up with an individual who hopefully went to the table to see if they were removed. I will not be naming the vendor because I do not have proof and potentially want to rescue these animals.
If anyone has advise please share, especially if it's pertaining to the puss filled wounds
2024.05.19 06:02 karenvideoeditor The Zoo [Part 8]
First / Previous
Suzanne thought it was absolutely brilliant of me to put books on a flash drive for Sun. She explained that Sun wasn’t as sophant (her word, not mine) as she might seem, more of a repository of information, but she was fairly intelligent. It was how she was able to connect Andrew being in pain to the fact that I was friends with Andrew, and that I would want to know that he was in trouble. Apparently some of Sun’s species had given some ‘wisdom’ to others in the past and it had made its way into mythology.
The key fact was that she was not smart enough to protect herself and her kind from the clever, organized poachers. With that information in mind, it was fascinating for me to think of how Sun took in and organized what she learned. It was almost as if she was a walking, talking library.
On the topic of tours, my first one went wonderfully, and I’m almost hoping Suzanne lets me do more of them. I know not all the tourists are going to be as awesome as these people were, but Suzanne gave me a lot of slack when it comes to dealing with them. She actually said that being a smartass is not grounds for dismissal, and that if I’m sarcastic or facetious to guests who are being ‘daft’ and they complain, she really doesn’t care. Is this the perfect job for me or what?
There were four guests in this party, two adults who were sisters and two children of one of the women, brothers aged thirteen and seventeen. The tour was a birthday gift for the older of the boys from his aunt, since apparently he was passionate about animal protection and conservation.
When they arrived at the front gate, I was sitting at Andrew’s desk, going over the booklet of information one last time. When the visitors pressed the button that sounded the alert buzzer, I tucked away in a drawer and let them in. I did have a cheat sheet with information about the animals on my phone just in case, a brief notation of each of them and which enclosure they were in, but I really didn’t need to use it.
Exiting through the front door, I saw them walk up the path toward me. “Hi, I’m Ripley,” I said, holding out a hand toward the woman closest to me.
She shook it firmly. “I’m Denise. This is my sister Carla and my nephews, Wesley and Jason,” she said, motioning to each of them in turn.
“I heard it’s your birthday,” I said to Wesley, giving him a smile. “You’re interested in animal conversation?”
“Back where we live, yeah,” he said, nodding. “The animals that you’ve got here are incredible. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Well, I can’t wait to show them to you,” I said. “Right this way.”
I led them on the path around the building, toward enclosure one. Despite the horrific memories of the animal killing Stanley’s friends, I knew it was just an animal, and I had to push past my feelings on what had happened. Keeping a small smile on my face, I motioned to the enclosure. “Fiercely territorial and amazing hunters, despite their large size, they’re arboreal and known to dart from tree to tree with barely a sound. This is one of only about two thousand left in existence.”
“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty six at last count,” spoke Wesley, his eyes on the trees.
I blinked, surprised and impressed. “Well that was fantastic. Do you plan on stealing my job when you graduate?”
Wesley looked at me with a grin. “Nah, everyone knows Suzanne only offers humans this gig. And I want to help animals like this one get off the endangered species list. The zoos are great for awareness and fundraising, but then the money has to go somewhere. I want to be doing the real work.”
“That’s really great,” I told him. “I wish you all the best in that career path.” At that, we saw the animal climb down from the tree, wandering a few yards from the tree line. This was because 90% of the time, when humans were at their enclosure and making noise, whether it was speaking to each other or calling out to the animal, it was someone bringing them prey to eat. Or, in my case, enrichment toys to play with.
“Whoa,” Wesley whispered.
“How close can we get?” spoke up Jason.
“The warding starts at the fence,” I told him with a small gesture. “So, just there.”
Both boys wandered closer and I glanced at their parents. It seemed that Suzanne’s zoo had a serious reputation for high quality invisible walls, because they didn’t look worried in the slightest about the boys being hurt or killed.
“They prefer dense forest as their home and have been known to make their nests in trees up to twenty meter in the air,” I continued. “And when hunting, they’ve been seen dropping eight meters straight down. They have incredibly dense yet flexible musculature, which allows them to tackle their prey without injuring themselves.”
There was more information about the animal that I continued to rattle off, though Wesley chimed in at certain points with the info I was about to convey. That was highly entertaining and very cool. When I’d been in school, I’d never met anyone who had my level of passion about endangered animals. I wondered if things were better where these folks came from, but realized that considering there were so few of these animals left, I guessed not.
The animal paced a little bit, seemingly waiting to see if we were the kind of humans that came bearing food, before deciding we weren’t and climbing back up into the trees as easily as I would climb some stairs.
As we moved onto enclosure two, Jason spoke up. “Are there any animals here we can touch or feed or something?”
I sighed inwardly before slowing to a stop. “Well, can you show me your hands?” Jason looked bemused, holding out his hands. “I mean…they both look like they’re in great shape. You can stand to lose one.”
The two women chuckled and Wesley smirked as Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very funny.”
Grinning, I started walking again. “The animals here are all carnivores and all predators. You get to see them, but that’s it.”
“Alright.”
When we reached enclosure two, I started on my next spiel. “We’ve got three reanimated dead in this enclosure,” I spoke. They were just coming out from the trees as we arrived, presumably having heard our approach. “Marissa, Connor, and Bradley. They were donated by families who knew where they would be exhibited. Their next of kin, whoever they are, can’t stand the idea of putting them down. But we need to make sure they don’t have access to corpses, because one of them plus one corpse equals two of them.”
“They eat flesh though, don’t they?” Wesley asked.
I nodded. “Oh, yeah, but it’s from bodies that have already been dismembered. There’s no chance of them being affected by the transformation because it’s all parts.”
“Oh, got it.”
The creatures with blueish-white skin had superhuman strength, which is why they qualified for the security of Suzanne’s zoo. They also were likely the source of any Earth tales of people being brought back to life as zombies, specifically draugr, according to my research. They smelled like rotting flesh, so even as I kept talking about them and giving a background to the people they used to be, we were quick to move on once Wesley had gotten a good, long look at them.
“Enclosure four’s animal is a vampiric spirit. He’s a small, hairy humanoid creature with pointed ears. He wears a hat, and if he somehow loses it, he freaks out,” I said.
“They eat horses,” Wesley noted. “Also anything that gives them the chance to sit on it, usually catching them by surprise while they’re sleeping.”
The creature came out from the brush, giving us a suspicious look. He wasn’t in his humanoid form though; for some reason, he’d chosen to shapeshift to a dog.
I nodded. “Yep, indeed. Once the prey is dead, then he’ll eat it, and he has a voracious appetite. We have two wolves and two bears in the forest, which is one of the reasons I’ve got some self-defense items,” I said, patting my belt where my pepper spray (rated for bear) and my taser. “But the wards keep them out of this area of the zoo, so it’s really not much of a worry. It’s also a known shapeshifter, preferring the form of a dog, as you can see, as well as a cat, a snake, or even white butterflies, though the last one is rare.”
“The white butterflies are supposed to be a sign of good luck,” Wesley said, glancing to me. “Too bad we got the dog.”
“Yeah, otherwise you might be able to talk your mom into getting scratch-offs on your way home, huh?”
Wesley smirked at me.
The next enclosure was Spike, and he was waiting for us, dripping wet from having just emerged from the lake. I gave the introductory information about him, which included his propensity for eating animal eyes, nails, and teeth. “Recently, I’ve given him some enrichment activities, and I learned he likes artichokes, pecans, and hazelnuts,” I said, taking a bag out from my cargo shorts. “Wesley, do you want to toss this bag into the enclosure?”
The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded excitedly. He took a look into the paper bag before wrapping down the top to make sure nothing would fly out. Then he chucked it underhand past the fence. It landed a few yards from Spike, who waddled over to it quickly and tearing the bag open, spilling out the prizes inside. As the animal ate the pecans and hazelnuts, Wesley asked, “How’d you figure out he likes those?”
“It’s not all about taste,” I told him. “It’s mainly the difficulty of getting them out of the shells. He’s used to having to work for the parts of his prey he likes the most, so this mimics that activity, and he enjoys the process. I tried a bunch of different foods to find a few he liked.”
“Cool,” Wesley murmured, staring at him.
We watched Spike eat until he’d finished and then he went back into the woods, leaving us to move onto enclosure five. Japanese camellia were plentiful here, a type of pink flower, and that was because they grew anywhere near one of his species made their den. “This girl spends most of her time in the lake also,” I said, as the creature made its way toward the fence separating us from it. “But as you can see, she’s just as curious as the rest about what we’re doing here and whether we have food for her. She eats fish mostly, but she also regularly gets live prey.”
This creature was a spider-like monster, having six legs with long claws on each, and the head of an ox with two sharp horns. She was capable of shapeshifting to look like a human, but I guessed that she wasn’t fond of it, since I hadn’t yet seen her in that form.
“She prefers the easy way of catching prey, so to speak, by hiding in the lake and pouncing when something comes for a drink of water,” I explained. “Apparently humans are some of her favorite prey. She has an advantage of being able to spit poison, which often hits her prey in the eyes. But it’s usually used in defense rather than offense, since it secretes a limited amount.”
“What kind of animal would even go after something like this?” Jason asked, staring at her.
“Never discount one of its own species when you’re thinking about what might attack an animal,” I replied. “There are places that are breeding all of the animals here, but competition for mates is common. That means an advantage in a fight, like poison or venom, can make or break who the winner is.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
“It can’t spit past the warding, right?” Carla suddenly asked.
“Oh, no,” I assured her. “We’re fine. The wards wouldn’t let anything cross over.” She nodded, appeased.
The animal in enclosure six was the ginormous seal-hippo, Fiona, and she was looking at us as if she was imagining sprinkling us with herbs and spices and stuffing us in an oven. “This girl is one animal I’m going to work on enrichment activities for next,” I told them. “She prefers to feed on crayfish, though she’s happy to eat any humans that wander into her territory. She’ll even make a sound like a baby crying to reel us in. I’ve heard it a bunch of times.”
“Can you get her to make the sound?” Jason asked, perking up.
I grinned. “Not on command, sorry.”
“What enrichment are you thinking of trying?” Wesley asked.
“Possibly food placed in puzzle feeders,” I told him, “since she has claws that are pretty dexterous. Maybe a piñata made out of newspaper with flour inside, or a scarecrow that mimics a human.”
“Awesome,” he muttered.
After a little more educational tidbits, we moved onto Yui’s enclosure. “What is that?” Wesley asked, smiling.
“I got Yui the closest thing I could to a ping-pong ball,” I replied. “She quite likes it.”
“That’s so funny,” he said as she came out of the trees in her spider form. “I mean, the idea of her being a bloodthirsty hunter who seduces men to their deaths and eats them alive, but then on the other hand, she likes playing with something like this.”
“It is a little funny,” I agreed. “But when it comes down to it, all the animals here enjoy activities besides hunting.”
“She can shapeshift to look human, right?” asked Jason, trying to be casual about knowing something factual like his nerdy brother.
I nodded. “She looks like a woman from a region of Earth called Japan. And she’ll use strategies like holding out a hand to shake to get you closer. She tried that on me when I first got here but, as you can see,” I said, holding up my hands and waving them, “I didn’t fall for it.”
The boys both laughed as they got closer to the fence, watching her slowly pace near the trees.
Next was Sun, but she didn’t make an appearance as I spoke about her species. “Well…unfortunately we can’t guarantee that every animal comes out to say hi,” I sighed. “But…oh wait, here she is.”
The green lion with several horns and many eyes along her flank came out from the forest. “Hello,” she spoke.
“Hi, Sun,” I replied. “We have visitors.”
“What’s that?” Wesley asked suddenly, pointing at the small plastic bag that was still where I’d left it.
“Oh! That is Sun’s enrichment,” I said with a smile. “I put dozens of books on a flash drive and found that she can read them just like she’d read a shelf of books.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve read about anyone trying that before. That’s really cool.”
“The books are new and interesting,” Sun spoke, drawing our attention. “I’m grateful for them.”
I nodded to her. “You’re quite welcome.”
The next animal, unfortunately, wasn’t there, and we waited around for ten minutes as we discussed him. He was large and reptile-like with red eyes, with its hind legs and tail making him look vaguely like a kangaroo. Then, enclosure ten was a terrifyingly disturbing creature, the not-a-centaur with no skin, that I’d only seen a few times while walking my route. It gave a good demonstration of its ferocity, showing its sharp teeth and snapping at us a few times.
“I’m thinking of trying salt licks and other horse enrichment like a big bouncy ball,” I told Wesley, whose eyebrows went up at that. “Maybe give him more things to forage like scattered grains or a box filled with pinecones and seeds. Foraging is a huge part of a horse’s life in the wild, and humans have to do a lot of activities like that to keep pet horses busy. Of course, he also loves the little salt-water lake that was built for him.”
We spent some time looking at the animal before moving past our last stop, the empty enclosure of the animal was stolen. Carla glanced at me with a sad smile, knowing what had happened, it seemed. I gave her a nod as we continued on our way, walking into the office. “So, I hope everyone enjoyed themselves!” I said with a smile.
“That was the coolest birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Wesley said, looking to Denise. “Thanks so much, seriously.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said with a nod. “I’d never been here before, and knew I’d find it fascinating. Thank you for the educational aspect,” Denise said, glancing at me. “I learned quite a lot.”
“Happy to hear it,” I said, returning the nod.
As I escorted the guests out of the zoo and locked the door behind them, I reflected on how much I’d changed. The first time I’d seen Yui’s tarantula form, I’d nearly passed out from fear. Now here I was, walking tourists around like it was no big deal. Humans really can adapt to anything, it seems.
That afternoon, Suzanne had texted me that she was coming by after my shift, and I met her in Andrew’s office, shutting the door to the security room behind me. “How’s Andrew?” I asked first thing.
“He’s doing well,” she said with a wide smile. “Back on non-hospital food. He’s allowed to order food on his phone, and to hear it from him, that’s the best news he’d received in a long time.”
I chuckled. “I guess some clichés are true for a reason.”
“Indeed.” She took a breath. “All right. Ripley…I would like to discuss something with you.”
My face went slack at the serious tone in her voice. “I’m not… Am I being fired?”
“What? No!” she exclaimed. Then she chuckled softly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just, here, let’s have a seat.” Suzanne walked over to the couch and sat at one end, and I took the other. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, that I wanted to keep from you until you found your sea legs here.”
“Well…I have,” I said with a nod. “So, what is it?”
Suzanne took a breath. “I knew your mother.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before making their way to my ears. It was a perfectly logical sentence, and yet it didn’t make any sense. “What?” I finally managed.
“When you graduated college, I decided to move the zoo from Italy to within driving distance of your home,” she said softly. “Near enough to your town that you’d see the advert. We ignored any other applicants and I hoped you’d apply. Actually, I expected you’d apply. Not just for the money, but considering the field you wanted to go into. As soon as I’d found out your major, I knew.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How do you know Patricia?”
“She owned the zoo before I did,” Susan explained. “Fourteen years ago…she was working to track an injured animal that we could bring into the zoo and she was killed by poachers.”
My heart calcified in my chest and a lump lodged in my throat. As my breaths became shaky, I stared at her in shock. “She…she’s really dead?”
“You suspected?” she asked softly.
“It…” I swallowed hard. “We had her declared legally dead after…I don’t know, seven years I think. My dad wanted to go after her for child support, but the police said…they said they couldn’t find…” Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them back before I met Suzanne’s gaze. “She owned the zoo?”
Suzanne nodded. “It was her baby, you’d say. When Patricia passed, I inherited it, which we’d discussed beforehand, a legal just-in-case that I never expected her to need. I’m under the impression that you were told she went to Africa for her photography career, but she was in fact going to remote areas back in my home world almost every time.”
“But I-I saw the photos,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me she put on a show of getting pictures that someone else took for us to see every time she visited? Did my dad even know?”
“I suppose that’s an accurate way to put it, putting on a show. And no, your father was never told. It’s not the way of things to tell humans unless it’s necessary. I won’t bore you with the details, but us and humans, we’re distant relatives, so we can still have children. But it wasn’t planned. Your mother fell in love with your father despite herself; she hadn’t meant to find love. Then she became pregnant with you and…well, the rest is history.”
“I think she had a different definition of love than the one I have,” I said tightly. “You’d think she’d have put her survival as more of a priority. Put being with the man she ‘loved’ as a priority. Her kids needed her. I needed her. She signed up when she became a mom. She could’ve screwed up all the time but she couldn’t even manage that one job: be there. When I was in the hospital, I kept thinking, ‘Where is she?’ and now you’re telling me that she put these animals above being there for her kids, and this whole time she’s been dead.”
“The hospital?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Never mind,” I said tersely, averting my gaze.
Suzanne hesitated before she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss, and not just for her death, Ripley,” she told me. “Patricia was…well, a ‘free spirit’ would be putting it gently. She always assumed the world would be there for her whenever she needed it.”
Staring at her for a long moment, I shook my head. “Why? Why come here and hire me?”
“I thought that would be obvious,” she said, smiling. “Your mother was so passionate about this place and once I found out your college major, I figured you would be as well.”
“Did you know that I hate her?” At that, Suzanne’s expression froze on the edge of shock. “She…she left us,” I whispered. “Didn’t tell us who she was or what she really did for a living and gave us no closure. And even when she was here, it was just visiting. Her real home was her work. She could give me all the presents she wanted, but even when she was here, half the time she was still on her computer doing work. It’s not like that stereotype of never making it to my tennis practice or something; it’s that it always felt like she was only partially here, even when I was sitting next to her. I don’t even know if I appreciate her turning me into a wildlife fanatic because it…it…makes me feel like I’m close to her in a way that’s just infuriating. She loved the animals more than she loved us.”
“Oh, Ripley-”
“Don’t,” I said, shoving myself to my feet. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said quietly. I pursed my lips. “I was going to say that I’m sorry that was the case. Your mother was…flawed, just like any other person. She had two loves in this world: her family and her work. And often, her work overcame her, her zeal for environmentalism getting in the way of being a good mum. She left your father trying to fill the role of two parents, holding your family together. You and your brother and your father, you all deserved better than that.”
My lower lip quivered but I bit down on it hard. It would’ve been a lot easier for me if she’d been speaking from a place of clueless reassurance about all this. But everything she said was making sense and that meant I didn’t have someone in front of me to be angry with.
“Why didn’t you tell me when Andrew hired me?” I sighed, sitting back down on the couch.
“Well, like I said, I wanted you to find your sea legs,” she said with a small smile. “I didn’t want the truth affecting whether or not you wanted to work here, whether you wanted to stay here after finding out about what the animals are. It would’ve complicated things, the emotions you’ll have to work through now that you know the truth. Whether or not you decide to give another tour, you also know what they’re like. That’s the benchmark I wanted you to reach before you found out about who you are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who I-” My face went slack. “Wait.”
Suzanne nodded slowly. “You’re only half human. Your brother too.”
The room seemed to tilt on an axis for a moment. “That means I’m also half…what?”
“We call ourselves Eldritch, these days,” she replied.
My eyes bugged out. “What?” I exclaimed. “So you’re all, like, gods or something?”
Suzanne burst out laughing. “Oh no, goodness, no,” she chuckled. “It’s just a word. We live in a very different world from this one, and a few generations ago we discovered the word and it made its way into our lexicon. But it does mean you can see all the animals. Indeed you did, on the tour you gave.”
“Wait, no, I had the glasses that…” I stopped. “Did those glasses do anything?”
She gave a sly smile and shook her head. “Not a thing. You made incredibly quick progress, and then when it came time for the tour, all you needed was to expect to see the animals, and you did.”
Genetics. That’s what Andrew had said during our interview, that part of how many animals you could see was determined by genetics. I guess having a mother who was originally from the other dimension gave me all the genes I needed to see everything here. “Could I…visit your world?” I asked tentatively. “You said that my mom took photos of the animals there. Could I…” My voice trailed off, not even sure if or how I wanted to finish that sentence.
“Those who are half human, especially those who are raised on Earth, don’t come visit,” she said gently. “I could show you some photos of other animals, and I could loan you as many books as you’d like, but it’s simply not a place where you’d be safe.”
“Oh,” I said, leaning into the couch cushion as I pictured the animals in the zoo. “Yeah, actually that…makes sense.” I paused. “So, what now?”
“It’s up to you,” she said. “I wanted to wait until I was sure you were comfortable with your position here, and then put the ball in your court. And so it is. What do you want to do now?”
What did I want to do? It wasn’t that difficult a question, just a deep, serious one.
I wanted to thrive, as the animals did. This is my enrichment now, working at an incredible, wonderful, terrifying zoo. The experience so far hasn’t been perfect, and I know there are risks, but life isn’t about staying safe. It’s about learning new things and making a difference in the world. And, if you’re lucky, having a job that’s something really special.
THE END
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Suzanne thought it was absolutely brilliant of me to put books on a flash drive for Sun. She explained that Sun wasn’t as sophant (her word, not mine) as she might seem, more of a repository of information, but she was fairly intelligent. It was how she was able to connect Andrew being in pain to the fact that I was friends with Andrew, and that I would want to know that he was in trouble. Apparently some of Sun’s species had given some ‘wisdom’ to others in the past and it had made its way into mythology.
The key fact was that she was not smart enough to protect herself and her kind from the clever, organized poachers. With that information in mind, it was fascinating for me to think of how Sun took in and organized what she learned. It was almost as if she was a walking, talking library.
On the topic of tours, my first one went wonderfully, and I’m almost hoping Suzanne lets me do more of them. I know not all the tourists are going to be as awesome as these people were, but Suzanne gave me a lot of slack when it comes to dealing with them. She actually said that being a smartass is not grounds for dismissal, and that if I’m sarcastic or facetious to guests who are being ‘daft’ and they complain, she really doesn’t care. Is this the perfect job for me or what?
There were four guests in this party, two adults who were sisters and two children of one of the women, brothers aged thirteen and seventeen. The tour was a birthday gift for the older of the boys from his aunt, since apparently he was passionate about animal protection and conservation.
When they arrived at the front gate, I was sitting at Andrew’s desk, going over the booklet of information one last time. When the visitors pressed the button that sounded the alert buzzer, I tucked away in a drawer and let them in. I did have a cheat sheet with information about the animals on my phone just in case, a brief notation of each of them and which enclosure they were in, but I really didn’t need to use it.
Exiting through the front door, I saw them walk up the path toward me. “Hi, I’m Ripley,” I said, holding out a hand toward the woman closest to me.
She shook it firmly. “I’m Denise. This is my sister Carla and my nephews, Wesley and Jason,” she said, motioning to each of them in turn.
“I heard it’s your birthday,” I said to Wesley, giving him a smile. “You’re interested in animal conversation?”
“Back where we live, yeah,” he said, nodding. “The animals that you’ve got here are incredible. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Well, I can’t wait to show them to you,” I said. “Right this way.”
I led them on the path around the building, toward enclosure one. Despite the horrific memories of the animal killing Stanley’s friends, I knew it was just an animal, and I had to push past my feelings on what had happened. Keeping a small smile on my face, I motioned to the enclosure. “Fiercely territorial and amazing hunters, despite their large size, they’re arboreal and known to dart from tree to tree with barely a sound. This is one of only about two thousand left in existence.”
“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty six at last count,” spoke Wesley, his eyes on the trees.
I blinked, surprised and impressed. “Well that was fantastic. Do you plan on stealing my job when you graduate?”
Wesley looked at me with a grin. “Nah, everyone knows Suzanne only offers humans this gig. And I want to help animals like this one get off the endangered species list. The zoos are great for awareness and fundraising, but then the money has to go somewhere. I want to be doing the real work.”
“That’s really great,” I told him. “I wish you all the best in that career path.” At that, we saw the animal climb down from the tree, wandering a few yards from the tree line. This was because 90% of the time, when humans were at their enclosure and making noise, whether it was speaking to each other or calling out to the animal, it was someone bringing them prey to eat. Or, in my case, enrichment toys to play with.
“Whoa,” Wesley whispered.
“How close can we get?” spoke up Jason.
“The warding starts at the fence,” I told him with a small gesture. “So, just there.”
Both boys wandered closer and I glanced at their parents. It seemed that Suzanne’s zoo had a serious reputation for high quality invisible walls, because they didn’t look worried in the slightest about the boys being hurt or killed.
“They prefer dense forest as their home and have been known to make their nests in trees up to twenty meter in the air,” I continued. “And when hunting, they’ve been seen dropping eight meters straight down. They have incredibly dense yet flexible musculature, which allows them to tackle their prey without injuring themselves.”
There was more information about the animal that I continued to rattle off, though Wesley chimed in at certain points with the info I was about to convey. That was highly entertaining and very cool. When I’d been in school, I’d never met anyone who had my level of passion about endangered animals. I wondered if things were better where these folks came from, but realized that considering there were so few of these animals left, I guessed not.
The animal paced a little bit, seemingly waiting to see if we were the kind of humans that came bearing food, before deciding we weren’t and climbing back up into the trees as easily as I would climb some stairs.
As we moved onto enclosure two, Jason spoke up. “Are there any animals here we can touch or feed or something?”
I sighed inwardly before slowing to a stop. “Well, can you show me your hands?” Jason looked bemused, holding out his hands. “I mean…they both look like they’re in great shape. You can stand to lose one.”
The two women chuckled and Wesley smirked as Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very funny.”
Grinning, I started walking again. “The animals here are all carnivores and all predators. You get to see them, but that’s it.”
“Alright.”
When we reached enclosure two, I started on my next spiel. “We’ve got three reanimated dead in this enclosure,” I spoke. They were just coming out from the trees as we arrived, presumably having heard our approach. “Marissa, Connor, and Bradley. They were donated by families who knew where they would be exhibited. Their next of kin, whoever they are, can’t stand the idea of putting them down. But we need to make sure they don’t have access to corpses, because one of them plus one corpse equals two of them.”
“They eat flesh though, don’t they?” Wesley asked.
I nodded. “Oh, yeah, but it’s from bodies that have already been dismembered. There’s no chance of them being affected by the transformation because it’s all parts.”
“Oh, got it.”
The creatures with blueish-white skin had superhuman strength, which is why they qualified for the security of Suzanne’s zoo. They also were likely the source of any Earth tales of people being brought back to life as zombies, specifically draugr, according to my research. They smelled like rotting flesh, so even as I kept talking about them and giving a background to the people they used to be, we were quick to move on once Wesley had gotten a good, long look at them.
“Enclosure four’s animal is a vampiric spirit. He’s a small, hairy humanoid creature with pointed ears. He wears a hat, and if he somehow loses it, he freaks out,” I said.
“They eat horses,” Wesley noted. “Also anything that gives them the chance to sit on it, usually catching them by surprise while they’re sleeping.”
The creature came out from the brush, giving us a suspicious look. He wasn’t in his humanoid form though; for some reason, he’d chosen to shapeshift to a dog.
I nodded. “Yep, indeed. Once the prey is dead, then he’ll eat it, and he has a voracious appetite. We have two wolves and two bears in the forest, which is one of the reasons I’ve got some self-defense items,” I said, patting my belt where my pepper spray (rated for bear) and my taser. “But the wards keep them out of this area of the zoo, so it’s really not much of a worry. It’s also a known shapeshifter, preferring the form of a dog, as you can see, as well as a cat, a snake, or even white butterflies, though the last one is rare.”
“The white butterflies are supposed to be a sign of good luck,” Wesley said, glancing to me. “Too bad we got the dog.”
“Yeah, otherwise you might be able to talk your mom into getting scratch-offs on your way home, huh?”
Wesley smirked at me.
The next enclosure was Spike, and he was waiting for us, dripping wet from having just emerged from the lake. I gave the introductory information about him, which included his propensity for eating animal eyes, nails, and teeth. “Recently, I’ve given him some enrichment activities, and I learned he likes artichokes, pecans, and hazelnuts,” I said, taking a bag out from my cargo shorts. “Wesley, do you want to toss this bag into the enclosure?”
The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded excitedly. He took a look into the paper bag before wrapping down the top to make sure nothing would fly out. Then he chucked it underhand past the fence. It landed a few yards from Spike, who waddled over to it quickly and tearing the bag open, spilling out the prizes inside. As the animal ate the pecans and hazelnuts, Wesley asked, “How’d you figure out he likes those?”
“It’s not all about taste,” I told him. “It’s mainly the difficulty of getting them out of the shells. He’s used to having to work for the parts of his prey he likes the most, so this mimics that activity, and he enjoys the process. I tried a bunch of different foods to find a few he liked.”
“Cool,” Wesley murmured, staring at him.
We watched Spike eat until he’d finished and then he went back into the woods, leaving us to move onto enclosure five. Japanese camellia were plentiful here, a type of pink flower, and that was because they grew anywhere near one of his species made their den. “This girl spends most of her time in the lake also,” I said, as the creature made its way toward the fence separating us from it. “But as you can see, she’s just as curious as the rest about what we’re doing here and whether we have food for her. She eats fish mostly, but she also regularly gets live prey.”
This creature was a spider-like monster, having six legs with long claws on each, and the head of an ox with two sharp horns. She was capable of shapeshifting to look like a human, but I guessed that she wasn’t fond of it, since I hadn’t yet seen her in that form.
“She prefers the easy way of catching prey, so to speak, by hiding in the lake and pouncing when something comes for a drink of water,” I explained. “Apparently humans are some of her favorite prey. She has an advantage of being able to spit poison, which often hits her prey in the eyes. But it’s usually used in defense rather than offense, since it secretes a limited amount.”
“What kind of animal would even go after something like this?” Jason asked, staring at her.
“Never discount one of its own species when you’re thinking about what might attack an animal,” I replied. “There are places that are breeding all of the animals here, but competition for mates is common. That means an advantage in a fight, like poison or venom, can make or break who the winner is.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
“It can’t spit past the warding, right?” Carla suddenly asked.
“Oh, no,” I assured her. “We’re fine. The wards wouldn’t let anything cross over.” She nodded, appeased.
The animal in enclosure six was the ginormous seal-hippo, Fiona, and she was looking at us as if she was imagining sprinkling us with herbs and spices and stuffing us in an oven. “This girl is one animal I’m going to work on enrichment activities for next,” I told them. “She prefers to feed on crayfish, though she’s happy to eat any humans that wander into her territory. She’ll even make a sound like a baby crying to reel us in. I’ve heard it a bunch of times.”
“Can you get her to make the sound?” Jason asked, perking up.
I grinned. “Not on command, sorry.”
“What enrichment are you thinking of trying?” Wesley asked.
“Possibly food placed in puzzle feeders,” I told him, “since she has claws that are pretty dexterous. Maybe a piñata made out of newspaper with flour inside, or a scarecrow that mimics a human.”
“Awesome,” he muttered.
After a little more educational tidbits, we moved onto Yui’s enclosure. “What is that?” Wesley asked, smiling.
“I got Yui the closest thing I could to a ping-pong ball,” I replied. “She quite likes it.”
“That’s so funny,” he said as she came out of the trees in her spider form. “I mean, the idea of her being a bloodthirsty hunter who seduces men to their deaths and eats them alive, but then on the other hand, she likes playing with something like this.”
“It is a little funny,” I agreed. “But when it comes down to it, all the animals here enjoy activities besides hunting.”
“She can shapeshift to look human, right?” asked Jason, trying to be casual about knowing something factual like his nerdy brother.
I nodded. “She looks like a woman from a region of Earth called Japan. And she’ll use strategies like holding out a hand to shake to get you closer. She tried that on me when I first got here but, as you can see,” I said, holding up my hands and waving them, “I didn’t fall for it.”
The boys both laughed as they got closer to the fence, watching her slowly pace near the trees.
Next was Sun, but she didn’t make an appearance as I spoke about her species. “Well…unfortunately we can’t guarantee that every animal comes out to say hi,” I sighed. “But…oh wait, here she is.”
The green lion with several horns and many eyes along her flank came out from the forest. “Hello,” she spoke.
“Hi, Sun,” I replied. “We have visitors.”
“What’s that?” Wesley asked suddenly, pointing at the small plastic bag that was still where I’d left it.
“Oh! That is Sun’s enrichment,” I said with a smile. “I put dozens of books on a flash drive and found that she can read them just like she’d read a shelf of books.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve read about anyone trying that before. That’s really cool.”
“The books are new and interesting,” Sun spoke, drawing our attention. “I’m grateful for them.”
I nodded to her. “You’re quite welcome.”
The next animal, unfortunately, wasn’t there, and we waited around for ten minutes as we discussed him. He was large and reptile-like with red eyes, with its hind legs and tail making him look vaguely like a kangaroo. Then, enclosure ten was a terrifyingly disturbing creature, the not-a-centaur with no skin, that I’d only seen a few times while walking my route. It gave a good demonstration of its ferocity, showing its sharp teeth and snapping at us a few times.
“I’m thinking of trying salt licks and other horse enrichment like a big bouncy ball,” I told Wesley, whose eyebrows went up at that. “Maybe give him more things to forage like scattered grains or a box filled with pinecones and seeds. Foraging is a huge part of a horse’s life in the wild, and humans have to do a lot of activities like that to keep pet horses busy. Of course, he also loves the little salt-water lake that was built for him.”
We spent some time looking at the animal before moving past our last stop, the empty enclosure of the animal was stolen. Carla glanced at me with a sad smile, knowing what had happened, it seemed. I gave her a nod as we continued on our way, walking into the office. “So, I hope everyone enjoyed themselves!” I said with a smile.
“That was the coolest birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Wesley said, looking to Denise. “Thanks so much, seriously.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said with a nod. “I’d never been here before, and knew I’d find it fascinating. Thank you for the educational aspect,” Denise said, glancing at me. “I learned quite a lot.”
“Happy to hear it,” I said, returning the nod.
As I escorted the guests out of the zoo and locked the door behind them, I reflected on how much I’d changed. The first time I’d seen Yui’s tarantula form, I’d nearly passed out from fear. Now here I was, walking tourists around like it was no big deal. Humans really can adapt to anything, it seems.
That afternoon, Suzanne had texted me that she was coming by after my shift, and I met her in Andrew’s office, shutting the door to the security room behind me. “How’s Andrew?” I asked first thing.
“He’s doing well,” she said with a wide smile. “Back on non-hospital food. He’s allowed to order food on his phone, and to hear it from him, that’s the best news he’d received in a long time.”
I chuckled. “I guess some clichés are true for a reason.”
“Indeed.” She took a breath. “All right. Ripley…I would like to discuss something with you.”
My face went slack at the serious tone in her voice. “I’m not… Am I being fired?”
“What? No!” she exclaimed. Then she chuckled softly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just, here, let’s have a seat.” Suzanne walked over to the couch and sat at one end, and I took the other. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, that I wanted to keep from you until you found your sea legs here.”
“Well…I have,” I said with a nod. “So, what is it?”
Suzanne took a breath. “I knew your mother.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before making their way to my ears. It was a perfectly logical sentence, and yet it didn’t make any sense. “What?” I finally managed.
“When you graduated college, I decided to move the zoo from Italy to within driving distance of your home,” she said softly. “Near enough to your town that you’d see the advert. We ignored any other applicants and I hoped you’d apply. Actually, I expected you’d apply. Not just for the money, but considering the field you wanted to go into. As soon as I’d found out your major, I knew.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How do you know Patricia?”
“She owned the zoo before I did,” Susan explained. “Fourteen years ago…she was working to track an injured animal that we could bring into the zoo and she was killed by poachers.”
My heart calcified in my chest and a lump lodged in my throat. As my breaths became shaky, I stared at her in shock. “She…she’s really dead?”
“You suspected?” she asked softly.
“It…” I swallowed hard. “We had her declared legally dead after…I don’t know, seven years I think. My dad wanted to go after her for child support, but the police said…they said they couldn’t find…” Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them back before I met Suzanne’s gaze. “She owned the zoo?”
Suzanne nodded. “It was her baby, you’d say. When Patricia passed, I inherited it, which we’d discussed beforehand, a legal just-in-case that I never expected her to need. I’m under the impression that you were told she went to Africa for her photography career, but she was in fact going to remote areas back in my home world almost every time.”
“But I-I saw the photos,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me she put on a show of getting pictures that someone else took for us to see every time she visited? Did my dad even know?”
“I suppose that’s an accurate way to put it, putting on a show. And no, your father was never told. It’s not the way of things to tell humans unless it’s necessary. I won’t bore you with the details, but us and humans, we’re distant relatives, so we can still have children. But it wasn’t planned. Your mother fell in love with your father despite herself; she hadn’t meant to find love. Then she became pregnant with you and…well, the rest is history.”
“I think she had a different definition of love than the one I have,” I said tightly. “You’d think she’d have put her survival as more of a priority. Put being with the man she ‘loved’ as a priority. Her kids needed her. I needed her. She signed up when she became a mom. She could’ve screwed up all the time but she couldn’t even manage that one job: be there. When I was in the hospital, I kept thinking, ‘Where is she?’ and now you’re telling me that she put these animals above being there for her kids, and this whole time she’s been dead.”
“The hospital?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Never mind,” I said tersely, averting my gaze.
Suzanne hesitated before she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss, and not just for her death, Ripley,” she told me. “Patricia was…well, a ‘free spirit’ would be putting it gently. She always assumed the world would be there for her whenever she needed it.”
Staring at her for a long moment, I shook my head. “Why? Why come here and hire me?”
“I thought that would be obvious,” she said, smiling. “Your mother was so passionate about this place and once I found out your college major, I figured you would be as well.”
“Did you know that I hate her?” At that, Suzanne’s expression froze on the edge of shock. “She…she left us,” I whispered. “Didn’t tell us who she was or what she really did for a living and gave us no closure. And even when she was here, it was just visiting. Her real home was her work. She could give me all the presents she wanted, but even when she was here, half the time she was still on her computer doing work. It’s not like that stereotype of never making it to my tennis practice or something; it’s that it always felt like she was only partially here, even when I was sitting next to her. I don’t even know if I appreciate her turning me into a wildlife fanatic because it…it…makes me feel like I’m close to her in a way that’s just infuriating. She loved the animals more than she loved us.”
“Oh, Ripley-”
“Don’t,” I said, shoving myself to my feet. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said quietly. I pursed my lips. “I was going to say that I’m sorry that was the case. Your mother was…flawed, just like any other person. She had two loves in this world: her family and her work. And often, her work overcame her, her zeal for environmentalism getting in the way of being a good mum. She left your father trying to fill the role of two parents, holding your family together. You and your brother and your father, you all deserved better than that.”
My lower lip quivered but I bit down on it hard. It would’ve been a lot easier for me if she’d been speaking from a place of clueless reassurance about all this. But everything she said was making sense and that meant I didn’t have someone in front of me to be angry with.
“Why didn’t you tell me when Andrew hired me?” I sighed, sitting back down on the couch.
“Well, like I said, I wanted you to find your sea legs,” she said with a small smile. “I didn’t want the truth affecting whether or not you wanted to work here, whether you wanted to stay here after finding out about what the animals are. It would’ve complicated things, the emotions you’ll have to work through now that you know the truth. Whether or not you decide to give another tour, you also know what they’re like. That’s the benchmark I wanted you to reach before you found out about who you are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who I-” My face went slack. “Wait.”
Suzanne nodded slowly. “You’re only half human. Your brother too.”
The room seemed to tilt on an axis for a moment. “That means I’m also half…what?”
“We call ourselves Eldritch, these days,” she replied.
My eyes bugged out. “What?” I exclaimed. “So you’re all, like, gods or something?”
Suzanne burst out laughing. “Oh no, goodness, no,” she chuckled. “It’s just a word. We live in a very different world from this one, and a few generations ago we discovered the word and it made its way into our lexicon. But it does mean you can see all the animals. Indeed you did, on the tour you gave.”
“Wait, no, I had the glasses that…” I stopped. “Did those glasses do anything?”
She gave a sly smile and shook her head. “Not a thing. You made incredibly quick progress, and then when it came time for the tour, all you needed was to expect to see the animals, and you did.”
Genetics. That’s what Andrew had said during our interview, that part of how many animals you could see was determined by genetics. I guess having a mother who was originally from the other dimension gave me all the genes I needed to see everything here. “Could I…visit your world?” I asked tentatively. “You said that my mom took photos of the animals there. Could I…” My voice trailed off, not even sure if or how I wanted to finish that sentence.
“Those who are half human, especially those who are raised on Earth, don’t come visit,” she said gently. “I could show you some photos of other animals, and I could loan you as many books as you’d like, but it’s simply not a place where you’d be safe.”
“Oh,” I said, leaning into the couch cushion as I pictured the animals in the zoo. “Yeah, actually that…makes sense.” I paused. “So, what now?”
“It’s up to you,” she said. “I wanted to wait until I was sure you were comfortable with your position here, and then put the ball in your court. And so it is. What do you want to do now?”
What did I want to do? It wasn’t that difficult a question, just a deep, serious one.
I wanted to thrive, as the animals did. This is my enrichment now, working at an incredible, wonderful, terrifying zoo. The experience so far hasn’t been perfect, and I know there are risks, but life isn’t about staying safe. It’s about learning new things and making a difference in the world. And, if you’re lucky, having a job that’s something really special.
THE END
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2024.05.19 05:13 kayenano The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer: Chapter 241
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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 241: Until Now
The doors to the Hartzwiese Adventurer’s Guild opened.
Before, the sound of raucous laughter could be heard flooding the street outside, filling the quiet of a spring night with all the debauchery the local drunkards had to offer.
Despite the halls of adventurers not being formal drinking establishments, those within were ready to compete in boisterousness with all the taverns, inns and pubs of the town combined. And also win. Handily.
And yet–
The moment the doors parted and I stepped within, a hush as quiet as any grave fell over its inhabitants.
A woman balancing with her derrière upon the head of another became still, the alcohol in her cup the only movement as it dribbled onto a stunned face below her.
A man slurping from the communal cauldron stared wordlessly, the stew pouring in, and then out of his mouth as the muscles of his throat forgot the means to swallow.
A bartender asleep upon a row of kegs quietly rose, the sudden din of silence waking him where the sound of debauchery and those drinking from the taps beside him had failed.
Here, there, and everywhere, eyes widened as the sudden silence was filled with the sounds of my footsteps as I strolled past, my loyal handmaiden and my brother’s attendant in my wake.
And also–
Mreow.
Mrewowow.
Meww.
Cats.
Tabby cats.
Calico cats.
Ragdoll cats.
Cats with twirly whiskers. Cats with puffy faces. Cats with slightly rounded ears.
Behind me, skipping around my legs while taking turns to sit upon my shoulders and very occasionally my head, were a legion of cats of various shapes, sizes and colours.
But no matter the springiness of their whiskers, the shine of their coat or the liveliness of their tails, one thing to bring them all together was the anarchy they caused.
This was no neat line of ducklings following after their mother.
This was a barbarian horde.
With no sense of organisation other than a shared drive to claim everything as their own, they immediately skipped amidst the stunned adventurers, scavenging for all the copious scraps while still turning their noses away from the alcohol forming sticky traps upon the floor.
Saying nothing, I allowed their demanding cries to fill up the hall as I swept forwards, pausing before a wall plastered from end to end with faded notices and requests long gone unanswered.
One by one, I systemically tore every request featuring a crudely drawn image of a cat, gathering into my arms a pile of parchment large enough to reach my chin.
Then, I made my way to the wooden desk.
A receptionist waited with a smile at the ready.
“Greetings! Welcome to the Hartzwiese branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. I see you’ve removed several notices from the–”
Poomph.
Silenced but unperturbed, this latest clone watched as I dropped the stack of requests onto her desk, before promptly topping off the stack with a copper ring.
“Do what must be done,” I said, my voice defiant. “I am ready.”
The receptionist answered me with a smile more permanent than the wall the notices were torn from.
A moment later–
“[Identify].”
A green hue appeared in her clasped palms as she assessed the ring.
“Juliette. B-rank. Your registered branch is Reitzlake.”
The sound of several cups clattered against the floor.
“Welcome again to Hartzwiese. I see from your commission history that you have an extraordinary amount of completions for recovering lost cats. May I assume the significant number of cats now roaming the branch hall relate to the notices removed from the wall?”
I pursed my quivering lips.
“Maybe.”
“Wonderful. And how many cats is it that you’ve rescued?”
“... Lots.”
“I see. Please give me a moment while I confirm the requirements of our commissions.”
The receptionist swiftly retrieved a stack of parchment from a drawer.
As she flicked through, her eyes simultaneously went to every cat roaming, napping and clawing in the hall. A skill not even monstrous overseers from the abyss with their dozens of eyestalks could match. But that’s only to be expected.
Wherever these receptionists were found, it was from a level deeper than any monster dared roam.
Eventually, she gave a nod.
“Thank you for waiting. There appears to be an excess of cats in relation to the number of commissions we have available. We’ll endeavour to ensure that every cat is rehomed at the earliest opportunity through our partner agencies and charities. But unfortunately, I can only provide official acknowledgement for cats rescued through a formal commission.”
I sucked in a deep breath, hoping that patience was one of the things I accidentally inhaled.
“Fine. And how many commissions does that end up being, then? … 10? 15?”
The receptionist flicked through her bundle of parchments once more.
“94.”
“... Excuse me?”
“I can confirm the successful completion of 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions. Congratulations. This is a new record, breaking what appears to be one earlier set by yourself. A remarkable achievement befitting a B-rank member of the guild.”
The receptionist’s professional smile never wavered.
I thought that would be the worst of it.
But then–
She slowly brought her hands together … and started applauding.
It was the leak which broke the dam.
At once, she was joined by all who were present to witness this crowning moment of regret.
I turned around in time to see a riot in motion.
“W-Wooooooooooo!!!!”
“In … Incredible …”
“A new record … I … I heard it was broken in Trierport … to think I’d witness it broken again!”
“A B-rank adventurer … ?! Where … Where did she come from … ?!”
There was no polite, respectful applause here.
It was the wild cheering of a crowd at a tournament. The whooping cries of theatregoers calling for an encore. The acclaim of my father as he elbowed others to delight in the poetry I’d written when I was 6 and thus now regularly attempted to burn.
Everywhere I turned, I saw and heard the acclaim mixed with shouts of horror as mugs of alcohol were spilled on purpose and by accident. The layabouts stomped on the floor, doing their best to murder decorum under the strain of unbridled emotion.
Only a few falling teardrops formed any hint of more dignified revelry, the glimmer of admiration running down cheeks as sniffles were hidden amidst the raucous cheering.
And then I bore witness to the most morbid sight.
Like a tidal wave of soiled clothes and snotty faces, they suddenly came as one, hands reaching out for me with dripping mugs still in their grips. Horror struck at my soul. And unlike a farmer who’d scarpered into the night, I had nobody who could heal a wound caused by hooligans accepting me as their own.
“A-Amazing!! Take my drink! Take anyone’s drink!!”
“So many cats rescued … even my allergies can’t believe it!”
“My gods, it’s a legend! An adventurer among adventurers!”
This.
This right here.
This was the lowest point of my life … were I not an unparalleled genius.
“Oho … ohoho …”
At once, the wave halted.
Faces which were lit up in unabashed delight turned to looks of mild confusion against the tinkling music of my laughter.
They needed to cycle through the expressions until they reached horror and shame.
“Ohhohohohohohoho!!”
… For I was no drunkard seeking to join their ranks!
No … I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea!
And that meant every action I took, every word I spoke, and every cat I saved was for a reason beyond the hopes and dreams these hoodlums had of wanton debauchery and rusting swords!
Indeed!
A lesser princess than I may slink away into the night, cowed by the utter shame, humiliation and disgrace of completing so many F-ranked requests that I somehow broke a record I’d only just set!
But I was made of greater things!
Of schemes and subterfuges so deep that it would take too long to explain! The plots I weaved were a silken web more intricate than any cogs which made up Coppelia as she doubled up, desperately trying to stop herself from succumbing to more pain from laughter!
And that meant with every cat request now denied to these louts … they would finally do some work!
“Ohoho … ohohohohoho!! Behold and be afraid! Witness before you the coming of a new dawn, here to lift you from your days of boundless reverie! Unfurl the shutters and gaze upon a radiance so pure it brands your dallying minds! The scorching sun has come to test the snail’s back, and all that your bleary eyes see is a great salt lake to devour you whole! Shrivel as you cling upon the sweat which drips upon your brow, for that is the proof you’re yet alive!”
A sudden silence met my proclamation of their coming ordeal.
And then–
“Wooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“I don’t understand! But what a speech!”
“If she can do it, so can we!”
I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
“Ohhhohohohohohohoho … !”
Here it was!
Operation: Gainful Employment!
An entirely new strategy, as bold as it was uncharted!
By removing what was surely the vast majority of missing cat quests available to the adventurers of this town, they would have no choice, utterly none whatsoever, but to engage in actual work! The type of work adventurers openly advertised themselves as doing!
Monster subjugation! Crime prevention! Fetching artifacts from hidden dungeons and then succumbing to their wounds at the entrance while the Royal Treasury pocketed the treasure!
Yes, this was clearly a highly experimental tactic.
But what was I, if not a bastion of creativity?
At the very least, I utterly refused to accept the status quo! An organisation dedicated exclusively to rescuing lost cats or elbowing into my kingdom’s sovereign affairs was no good to me!
Thus … I could not cower like some towngirl nauseous from the smell of their revelry.
Instead, I would squeeze the Adventurer’s Guild dry until the day I replaced them with an army of trained poodles. Until that joyous day, I could never tear my eyes away when they waited to be robbed.
To do so was more than a dereliction of duty …
Why, I’d be an accomplice to their drunken escapades!
My vow remained unchanged. For my goal, I would brave any indignity. The ring I was hoping the receptionist would forget to return was proof of that.
And thus–
I stood tall as a summer reed, proud in the knowledge that I had no need to feel even an inkling of embarrassment over completing 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions! …
“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.”
“S-Stop at once! You are not to laugh!”
“Pffffttt~”
“C-Coppelia!!”
Clearly not seeing the angel of self-sacrifice who I was, Coppelia held one hand tightly around her mouth. Even so, she failed to stop either the sound of her amusement or the tears falling from her eyes.
My only salvation was that it came at significant cost to her. Even now, she careened between laughter and painful regret.
I decided to offer both her and myself mercy.
Turning to the receptionist, I found a modest pouch already waiting upon the wooden desk. As well as a copper ring waiting beside it.
“Thank you for your service to the Adventurer’s Guild,” said the receptionist, her professional smile undaunted by the commotion. “Your total remuneration is 102 gold crowns, 7 silver crowns and 9 copper crowns. I’ve taken the liberty to compile all your separate payments together.”
I took the pouch and ignored the ring.
The receptionist pushed the ring forwards.
A long moment later, I collected it, uncertain what a receptionist would do if I tossed it into the communal cauldron, but knowing it would somehow still end up on my finger regardless.
With my head held high, I bravely ignored the chorus of voices unknowingly cheering for their own hardship as I swept past. Renewed tears and applause filled the hall. A few cats attempted to follow me. I stopped to shoo them away.
And then I was outside, the door closing behind me.
“... Goodness, that was quite the sight,” said Renise with a bemused smile. “It reminded me somewhat of the inns of Reitzlake’s docks. I wonder if all the halls of adventurers are like that, or merely those which you frequent?”
“Please don’t insinuate I’m responsible for the debauchery which occurs wherever the Adventurer’s Guild is concerned. That’s something I can claim no credit for.”
“You say that … but to me, it seems that you caused quite a stir. That really is a remarkable number of cats you rescued, after all. Even I can tell that 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions–”
“Miss Renise.”
The maid’s smile wavered against whatever fatigued expression I was making.
A moment later, it fell away entirely as she switched to her role as my brother’s attendant and the leader of whatever scoundrels he’d charged her with herding.
“... Yes, I suppose there’s time for idle conversation later. There’s a guardhouse nearby. We should report on all that’s happened tonight.”
I gave a nod of agreement.
Hopefully, the baroness hadn’t woken from her stupor yet. But if she had, I was certain the single portrait of myself I’d returned to the wall of her gallery to smile down at her gagged and bound state would calm her nerves.
Renise hummed towards the direction of Hartzwiese’s centre, before returning her attention to me.
“If you wish to keep your identity incognito, I can see guards sent to where they’re needed using my own authority, and arrange for the appropriate seizure of the goods and crowns we’ve discovered.”
I beamed at once.
My, so prudent! It’s little wonder she was chosen by Roland!
“A judicious offer. And one I’ll accept gladly, providing the burden isn’t too severe.”
“This is merely an administrative task, and little burden compared to what both yourself and Miss Coppelia regularly perform. In any event, it is only efficient. I expect I’ll be spending a significant amount of time at the baroness’s farmstead. It is quite extensive. If possible, I would like to make use of it for Rose House. I imagine having such a facility close to the Granholtz border would have its uses.”
I nodded, already forgetting the barn’s existence.
“I encourage you to use your discretion as required. My brother has put his trust in you, and so I both expect and know that you shall not disappoint in furthering the kingdom’s prosperity.”
The young woman smiled. One filled with appreciation, but also lacking ambition.
Good.
An excellent combination as far as retainers were concerned.
“Thank you. Although I worry you place too much trust in my abilities. In truth, those like Baroness Arisa would have made for a greater asset to the kingdom. Her resourcefulness must be acknowledged.”
“It is not resourcefulness my kingdom requires. It is loyalty. And hers is a pit so empty it drains others.”
“That’s true. But at least we were able to acquire some useful things from her nonetheless.”
Renise pulled out a tiny vial from the belt around her thigh.
A golden liquid was stored within, glimmering with an unnatural light.
“These were in her chamber,” she said, her eyes lacking emotion as she surveyed the bright liquid. “When we met, she actually attempted to purchase my loyalty with this.”
“A suspect vial. How quaint. And what miracle did she promise?”
“One that would wake my parents from their curse of eternal slumber.”
“... And is it?”
“I don’t believe so, no. This is one of many identical vials I found in her chamber’s desk drawer. All prominently labelled with instructions to only drink as required to stave off the effects of bloating.”
Renise returned the vial to her belt with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“It’s still useful,” she admitted. “But just not for what I require.”
I gave a simple nod as my reply.
Nothing else needed to be said.
She hoped to see her parents wake from their prison of dormancy. An understandable wish. And one I wasn’t required to supplement with the comment that no pair named the Smuggler King and the Smuggler Queen were likely to receive as light a sentence as their daughter.
I could not speak on behalf of Roland. Although I imagined that as a kind man, he would prefer not to pass judgements which were total. But as the Crown Prince, he did not have the luxury of kindness.
It would take much to change their fate.
But perhaps that’s why Renise was here, still proving true, and not accepting stomach ailment potions from a baroness.
A moment of silence followed.
Renise gave a short sigh. And that was that.
She set her eyes on the task ahead–at least until whatever words she’d parted her mouth to say were interrupted by Coppelia’s humming instead.
“Sooooooooooooooo … you just want to wake up two people eternally sleeping, right?”
A small smile met her optimistic voice.
“If a cure were readily available, I’m certain I would have found it by now. I believe one might be possible, but it would take skill and ingredients beyond any apothecary I know of.”
“Well, sure, you could go that way. But what about going straight to the source instead?”
“The source?”
“Sure. They’re asleep, right? So just ask the one in charge of where they are now.”
“I’m … not quite sure I follow?”
Coppelia clapped her hands together and beamed.
“The Spring Court is the realm of dreams. Chances are, they must have shown their faces around a few times by now. If you ask the Spring Queen nicely, she might do you a favour.”
“The Spring Queen? … The fae?”
“Mmh~ luckily, we have someone with connections here!”
Renise was startled out of her reply.
It was nothing compared to me. The one being pointed at.
“Coppelia!” I said, truly aghast at the suggestion. “The fae are not to be taken lightly. Why, I still have nightmares about my conversation with the Winter Queen! I learned a side to royalty that day which I shall never forget … and I’m quite poorer for it!”
“You met … the Winter Queen?” asked Renise, her eyes suddenly wide.
“Unfortunately, yes, but I had zero intention of meeting her, and I’ve just as little intention of meeting any other fae as well. Including the Spring Queen.”
I waved away the coming query to declare what was just as important as my lack of enthusiasm.
“Besides, I’ve not the foggiest idea how I would even hope to use these supposed connections I have.”
“Oh, that’s the easy bit,” said Coppelia, her casual disregard for what counted as ‘easy’ more terrifying than any lout I’d met today. “The hard part is getting them to do what you want. But meeting them? The fae are creatures of stories. If the time is right, they’ll speak to you–one way or another.”
“Then they must book an appointment. One which I can formally reject.”
“I mean, I don’t think you have much choice. You didn’t last time, right?”
“The last time, I was sat beside the Winter Queen’s crown. I see no fae artifacts to hook me away. And that means utterly no scenario in which I could be abducted without my express–”
I suddenly stopped, clasping my hands around my mouth.
A moment later, I raised my arms in a martial art I’d just invented, turning repeatedly on the spot.
Renise blinked at me.
“Excuse me, but what are–”
“Shhshhshh!!”
I paused, gazing intently around at the quiet, dark streets of Hartzwiese, all the while ignoring Coppelia’s giggling at my near miss.
That … That was close!
“O-Oho … oho … I almost invited something terrible. Truly, it’s perhaps best not to needlessly voice things which Fae Queens and their deviant brand of magic could use …”
Coppelia nodded at me, as proud as she was clearly disappointed.
“You’re lucky. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d have snagged you right there and then.”
“No. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d wait until–”
Click.
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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 241: Until Now
The doors to the Hartzwiese Adventurer’s Guild opened.
Before, the sound of raucous laughter could be heard flooding the street outside, filling the quiet of a spring night with all the debauchery the local drunkards had to offer.
Despite the halls of adventurers not being formal drinking establishments, those within were ready to compete in boisterousness with all the taverns, inns and pubs of the town combined. And also win. Handily.
And yet–
The moment the doors parted and I stepped within, a hush as quiet as any grave fell over its inhabitants.
A woman balancing with her derrière upon the head of another became still, the alcohol in her cup the only movement as it dribbled onto a stunned face below her.
A man slurping from the communal cauldron stared wordlessly, the stew pouring in, and then out of his mouth as the muscles of his throat forgot the means to swallow.
A bartender asleep upon a row of kegs quietly rose, the sudden din of silence waking him where the sound of debauchery and those drinking from the taps beside him had failed.
Here, there, and everywhere, eyes widened as the sudden silence was filled with the sounds of my footsteps as I strolled past, my loyal handmaiden and my brother’s attendant in my wake.
And also–
Mreow.
Mrewowow.
Meww.
Cats.
Tabby cats.
Calico cats.
Ragdoll cats.
Cats with twirly whiskers. Cats with puffy faces. Cats with slightly rounded ears.
Behind me, skipping around my legs while taking turns to sit upon my shoulders and very occasionally my head, were a legion of cats of various shapes, sizes and colours.
But no matter the springiness of their whiskers, the shine of their coat or the liveliness of their tails, one thing to bring them all together was the anarchy they caused.
This was no neat line of ducklings following after their mother.
This was a barbarian horde.
With no sense of organisation other than a shared drive to claim everything as their own, they immediately skipped amidst the stunned adventurers, scavenging for all the copious scraps while still turning their noses away from the alcohol forming sticky traps upon the floor.
Saying nothing, I allowed their demanding cries to fill up the hall as I swept forwards, pausing before a wall plastered from end to end with faded notices and requests long gone unanswered.
One by one, I systemically tore every request featuring a crudely drawn image of a cat, gathering into my arms a pile of parchment large enough to reach my chin.
Then, I made my way to the wooden desk.
A receptionist waited with a smile at the ready.
“Greetings! Welcome to the Hartzwiese branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. I see you’ve removed several notices from the–”
Poomph.
Silenced but unperturbed, this latest clone watched as I dropped the stack of requests onto her desk, before promptly topping off the stack with a copper ring.
“Do what must be done,” I said, my voice defiant. “I am ready.”
The receptionist answered me with a smile more permanent than the wall the notices were torn from.
A moment later–
“[Identify].”
A green hue appeared in her clasped palms as she assessed the ring.
“Juliette. B-rank. Your registered branch is Reitzlake.”
The sound of several cups clattered against the floor.
“Welcome again to Hartzwiese. I see from your commission history that you have an extraordinary amount of completions for recovering lost cats. May I assume the significant number of cats now roaming the branch hall relate to the notices removed from the wall?”
I pursed my quivering lips.
“Maybe.”
“Wonderful. And how many cats is it that you’ve rescued?”
“... Lots.”
“I see. Please give me a moment while I confirm the requirements of our commissions.”
The receptionist swiftly retrieved a stack of parchment from a drawer.
As she flicked through, her eyes simultaneously went to every cat roaming, napping and clawing in the hall. A skill not even monstrous overseers from the abyss with their dozens of eyestalks could match. But that’s only to be expected.
Wherever these receptionists were found, it was from a level deeper than any monster dared roam.
Eventually, she gave a nod.
“Thank you for waiting. There appears to be an excess of cats in relation to the number of commissions we have available. We’ll endeavour to ensure that every cat is rehomed at the earliest opportunity through our partner agencies and charities. But unfortunately, I can only provide official acknowledgement for cats rescued through a formal commission.”
I sucked in a deep breath, hoping that patience was one of the things I accidentally inhaled.
“Fine. And how many commissions does that end up being, then? … 10? 15?”
The receptionist flicked through her bundle of parchments once more.
“94.”
“... Excuse me?”
“I can confirm the successful completion of 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions. Congratulations. This is a new record, breaking what appears to be one earlier set by yourself. A remarkable achievement befitting a B-rank member of the guild.”
The receptionist’s professional smile never wavered.
I thought that would be the worst of it.
But then–
She slowly brought her hands together … and started applauding.
It was the leak which broke the dam.
At once, she was joined by all who were present to witness this crowning moment of regret.
I turned around in time to see a riot in motion.
“W-Wooooooooooo!!!!”
“In … Incredible …”
“A new record … I … I heard it was broken in Trierport … to think I’d witness it broken again!”
“A B-rank adventurer … ?! Where … Where did she come from … ?!”
There was no polite, respectful applause here.
It was the wild cheering of a crowd at a tournament. The whooping cries of theatregoers calling for an encore. The acclaim of my father as he elbowed others to delight in the poetry I’d written when I was 6 and thus now regularly attempted to burn.
Everywhere I turned, I saw and heard the acclaim mixed with shouts of horror as mugs of alcohol were spilled on purpose and by accident. The layabouts stomped on the floor, doing their best to murder decorum under the strain of unbridled emotion.
Only a few falling teardrops formed any hint of more dignified revelry, the glimmer of admiration running down cheeks as sniffles were hidden amidst the raucous cheering.
And then I bore witness to the most morbid sight.
Like a tidal wave of soiled clothes and snotty faces, they suddenly came as one, hands reaching out for me with dripping mugs still in their grips. Horror struck at my soul. And unlike a farmer who’d scarpered into the night, I had nobody who could heal a wound caused by hooligans accepting me as their own.
“A-Amazing!! Take my drink! Take anyone’s drink!!”
“So many cats rescued … even my allergies can’t believe it!”
“My gods, it’s a legend! An adventurer among adventurers!”
This.
This right here.
This was the lowest point of my life … were I not an unparalleled genius.
“Oho … ohoho …”
At once, the wave halted.
Faces which were lit up in unabashed delight turned to looks of mild confusion against the tinkling music of my laughter.
They needed to cycle through the expressions until they reached horror and shame.
“Ohhohohohohohoho!!”
… For I was no drunkard seeking to join their ranks!
No … I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea!
And that meant every action I took, every word I spoke, and every cat I saved was for a reason beyond the hopes and dreams these hoodlums had of wanton debauchery and rusting swords!
Indeed!
A lesser princess than I may slink away into the night, cowed by the utter shame, humiliation and disgrace of completing so many F-ranked requests that I somehow broke a record I’d only just set!
But I was made of greater things!
Of schemes and subterfuges so deep that it would take too long to explain! The plots I weaved were a silken web more intricate than any cogs which made up Coppelia as she doubled up, desperately trying to stop herself from succumbing to more pain from laughter!
And that meant with every cat request now denied to these louts … they would finally do some work!
“Ohoho … ohohohohoho!! Behold and be afraid! Witness before you the coming of a new dawn, here to lift you from your days of boundless reverie! Unfurl the shutters and gaze upon a radiance so pure it brands your dallying minds! The scorching sun has come to test the snail’s back, and all that your bleary eyes see is a great salt lake to devour you whole! Shrivel as you cling upon the sweat which drips upon your brow, for that is the proof you’re yet alive!”
A sudden silence met my proclamation of their coming ordeal.
And then–
“Wooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“I don’t understand! But what a speech!”
“If she can do it, so can we!”
I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
“Ohhhohohohohohohoho … !”
Here it was!
Operation: Gainful Employment!
An entirely new strategy, as bold as it was uncharted!
By removing what was surely the vast majority of missing cat quests available to the adventurers of this town, they would have no choice, utterly none whatsoever, but to engage in actual work! The type of work adventurers openly advertised themselves as doing!
Monster subjugation! Crime prevention! Fetching artifacts from hidden dungeons and then succumbing to their wounds at the entrance while the Royal Treasury pocketed the treasure!
Yes, this was clearly a highly experimental tactic.
But what was I, if not a bastion of creativity?
At the very least, I utterly refused to accept the status quo! An organisation dedicated exclusively to rescuing lost cats or elbowing into my kingdom’s sovereign affairs was no good to me!
Thus … I could not cower like some towngirl nauseous from the smell of their revelry.
Instead, I would squeeze the Adventurer’s Guild dry until the day I replaced them with an army of trained poodles. Until that joyous day, I could never tear my eyes away when they waited to be robbed.
To do so was more than a dereliction of duty …
Why, I’d be an accomplice to their drunken escapades!
My vow remained unchanged. For my goal, I would brave any indignity. The ring I was hoping the receptionist would forget to return was proof of that.
And thus–
I stood tall as a summer reed, proud in the knowledge that I had no need to feel even an inkling of embarrassment over completing 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions! …
“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.”
“S-Stop at once! You are not to laugh!”
“Pffffttt~”
“C-Coppelia!!”
Clearly not seeing the angel of self-sacrifice who I was, Coppelia held one hand tightly around her mouth. Even so, she failed to stop either the sound of her amusement or the tears falling from her eyes.
My only salvation was that it came at significant cost to her. Even now, she careened between laughter and painful regret.
I decided to offer both her and myself mercy.
Turning to the receptionist, I found a modest pouch already waiting upon the wooden desk. As well as a copper ring waiting beside it.
“Thank you for your service to the Adventurer’s Guild,” said the receptionist, her professional smile undaunted by the commotion. “Your total remuneration is 102 gold crowns, 7 silver crowns and 9 copper crowns. I’ve taken the liberty to compile all your separate payments together.”
I took the pouch and ignored the ring.
The receptionist pushed the ring forwards.
A long moment later, I collected it, uncertain what a receptionist would do if I tossed it into the communal cauldron, but knowing it would somehow still end up on my finger regardless.
With my head held high, I bravely ignored the chorus of voices unknowingly cheering for their own hardship as I swept past. Renewed tears and applause filled the hall. A few cats attempted to follow me. I stopped to shoo them away.
And then I was outside, the door closing behind me.
“... Goodness, that was quite the sight,” said Renise with a bemused smile. “It reminded me somewhat of the inns of Reitzlake’s docks. I wonder if all the halls of adventurers are like that, or merely those which you frequent?”
“Please don’t insinuate I’m responsible for the debauchery which occurs wherever the Adventurer’s Guild is concerned. That’s something I can claim no credit for.”
“You say that … but to me, it seems that you caused quite a stir. That really is a remarkable number of cats you rescued, after all. Even I can tell that 94 simultaneous F-ranked commissions–”
“Miss Renise.”
The maid’s smile wavered against whatever fatigued expression I was making.
A moment later, it fell away entirely as she switched to her role as my brother’s attendant and the leader of whatever scoundrels he’d charged her with herding.
“... Yes, I suppose there’s time for idle conversation later. There’s a guardhouse nearby. We should report on all that’s happened tonight.”
I gave a nod of agreement.
Hopefully, the baroness hadn’t woken from her stupor yet. But if she had, I was certain the single portrait of myself I’d returned to the wall of her gallery to smile down at her gagged and bound state would calm her nerves.
Renise hummed towards the direction of Hartzwiese’s centre, before returning her attention to me.
“If you wish to keep your identity incognito, I can see guards sent to where they’re needed using my own authority, and arrange for the appropriate seizure of the goods and crowns we’ve discovered.”
I beamed at once.
My, so prudent! It’s little wonder she was chosen by Roland!
“A judicious offer. And one I’ll accept gladly, providing the burden isn’t too severe.”
“This is merely an administrative task, and little burden compared to what both yourself and Miss Coppelia regularly perform. In any event, it is only efficient. I expect I’ll be spending a significant amount of time at the baroness’s farmstead. It is quite extensive. If possible, I would like to make use of it for Rose House. I imagine having such a facility close to the Granholtz border would have its uses.”
I nodded, already forgetting the barn’s existence.
“I encourage you to use your discretion as required. My brother has put his trust in you, and so I both expect and know that you shall not disappoint in furthering the kingdom’s prosperity.”
The young woman smiled. One filled with appreciation, but also lacking ambition.
Good.
An excellent combination as far as retainers were concerned.
“Thank you. Although I worry you place too much trust in my abilities. In truth, those like Baroness Arisa would have made for a greater asset to the kingdom. Her resourcefulness must be acknowledged.”
“It is not resourcefulness my kingdom requires. It is loyalty. And hers is a pit so empty it drains others.”
“That’s true. But at least we were able to acquire some useful things from her nonetheless.”
Renise pulled out a tiny vial from the belt around her thigh.
A golden liquid was stored within, glimmering with an unnatural light.
“These were in her chamber,” she said, her eyes lacking emotion as she surveyed the bright liquid. “When we met, she actually attempted to purchase my loyalty with this.”
“A suspect vial. How quaint. And what miracle did she promise?”
“One that would wake my parents from their curse of eternal slumber.”
“... And is it?”
“I don’t believe so, no. This is one of many identical vials I found in her chamber’s desk drawer. All prominently labelled with instructions to only drink as required to stave off the effects of bloating.”
Renise returned the vial to her belt with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“It’s still useful,” she admitted. “But just not for what I require.”
I gave a simple nod as my reply.
Nothing else needed to be said.
She hoped to see her parents wake from their prison of dormancy. An understandable wish. And one I wasn’t required to supplement with the comment that no pair named the Smuggler King and the Smuggler Queen were likely to receive as light a sentence as their daughter.
I could not speak on behalf of Roland. Although I imagined that as a kind man, he would prefer not to pass judgements which were total. But as the Crown Prince, he did not have the luxury of kindness.
It would take much to change their fate.
But perhaps that’s why Renise was here, still proving true, and not accepting stomach ailment potions from a baroness.
A moment of silence followed.
Renise gave a short sigh. And that was that.
She set her eyes on the task ahead–at least until whatever words she’d parted her mouth to say were interrupted by Coppelia’s humming instead.
“Sooooooooooooooo … you just want to wake up two people eternally sleeping, right?”
A small smile met her optimistic voice.
“If a cure were readily available, I’m certain I would have found it by now. I believe one might be possible, but it would take skill and ingredients beyond any apothecary I know of.”
“Well, sure, you could go that way. But what about going straight to the source instead?”
“The source?”
“Sure. They’re asleep, right? So just ask the one in charge of where they are now.”
“I’m … not quite sure I follow?”
Coppelia clapped her hands together and beamed.
“The Spring Court is the realm of dreams. Chances are, they must have shown their faces around a few times by now. If you ask the Spring Queen nicely, she might do you a favour.”
“The Spring Queen? … The fae?”
“Mmh~ luckily, we have someone with connections here!”
Renise was startled out of her reply.
It was nothing compared to me. The one being pointed at.
“Coppelia!” I said, truly aghast at the suggestion. “The fae are not to be taken lightly. Why, I still have nightmares about my conversation with the Winter Queen! I learned a side to royalty that day which I shall never forget … and I’m quite poorer for it!”
“You met … the Winter Queen?” asked Renise, her eyes suddenly wide.
“Unfortunately, yes, but I had zero intention of meeting her, and I’ve just as little intention of meeting any other fae as well. Including the Spring Queen.”
I waved away the coming query to declare what was just as important as my lack of enthusiasm.
“Besides, I’ve not the foggiest idea how I would even hope to use these supposed connections I have.”
“Oh, that’s the easy bit,” said Coppelia, her casual disregard for what counted as ‘easy’ more terrifying than any lout I’d met today. “The hard part is getting them to do what you want. But meeting them? The fae are creatures of stories. If the time is right, they’ll speak to you–one way or another.”
“Then they must book an appointment. One which I can formally reject.”
“I mean, I don’t think you have much choice. You didn’t last time, right?”
“The last time, I was sat beside the Winter Queen’s crown. I see no fae artifacts to hook me away. And that means utterly no scenario in which I could be abducted without my express–”
I suddenly stopped, clasping my hands around my mouth.
A moment later, I raised my arms in a martial art I’d just invented, turning repeatedly on the spot.
Renise blinked at me.
“Excuse me, but what are–”
“Shhshhshh!!”
I paused, gazing intently around at the quiet, dark streets of Hartzwiese, all the while ignoring Coppelia’s giggling at my near miss.
That … That was close!
“O-Oho … oho … I almost invited something terrible. Truly, it’s perhaps best not to needlessly voice things which Fae Queens and their deviant brand of magic could use …”
Coppelia nodded at me, as proud as she was clearly disappointed.
“You’re lucky. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d have snagged you right there and then.”
“No. If the Spring Queen had a sense of humour, she’d wait until–”
Click.
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2024.05.19 05:02 Xo_winter (Literal) What was Israel suppose to do after October 7th?
I’m being serious. I’m confused. Let’s say a bunch of people from a different country/place/what ever kidnapped you killed a bunch of people in your town too and then took the rest of yall to their country to make an aggressive “threatening” political point. The point being that this is what time it is its on site w.e w.e🙄…What is your government supposed to do…….if their government has no reaction to it. Which is my second question, why didn’t Palestinian government catch wind of and then prevent the attack on a bunch of unpolitical civilians festival kids & families or some shit or speak out against it and work with the Israeli government to catch and jail the kidnappers and return the people. Their first moves were warcrimes so it of course set the tone would it not?
I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge but the tora inspired the bible which inspired the Quran. So like Judaism came first before christianity which was inspired by Judaism and then Islam was inspired by Christianity hence Adam and the garden being in their book too and all of that shit. So if the jewish religion literally just came first and inspired it all why is the vibe that they are the imposters………….. why not coexist with the religion(judaism) that inspired your religions inspiration(christianity) then leading into yours being islam. These are not rhetorical questions I’m like why is there an issue and why didn’t the Palestinian government do something about the kidnappers and the victims so that Israel wouldn’t. ?? And how is them doing nothing about it the correct reaction…… vs Israel’s….? What was Israel suppose to do next in your educated opinions. Did the Palestinian government even at some point try & would they have been politically trust worthy enough to leave it all up to? Because it seems like a no. Which does make them seem like they shouldn’t even be protested for….. maybe I’m wrong I pay attention but not to every detail so I’m fr asking.
submitted by Xo_winter to IsraelPalestine [link] [comments]
I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge but the tora inspired the bible which inspired the Quran. So like Judaism came first before christianity which was inspired by Judaism and then Islam was inspired by Christianity hence Adam and the garden being in their book too and all of that shit. So if the jewish religion literally just came first and inspired it all why is the vibe that they are the imposters………….. why not coexist with the religion(judaism) that inspired your religions inspiration(christianity) then leading into yours being islam. These are not rhetorical questions I’m like why is there an issue and why didn’t the Palestinian government do something about the kidnappers and the victims so that Israel wouldn’t. ?? And how is them doing nothing about it the correct reaction…… vs Israel’s….? What was Israel suppose to do next in your educated opinions. Did the Palestinian government even at some point try & would they have been politically trust worthy enough to leave it all up to? Because it seems like a no. Which does make them seem like they shouldn’t even be protested for….. maybe I’m wrong I pay attention but not to every detail so I’m fr asking.
2024.05.19 04:16 geopolicraticus Scientia sub specie illuminatatis
The View from Oregon – 289
Re: Scientia sub specie illuminatatis
Friday 17 May 2024
Dear Friends,
In the past several newsletters I have discussed the lack of a science of science, and some of the ramifications of this absence. Another consequence of the absence of a science of science is the selective way in which science develops, and this in turn leads to Danilevsky’s philosophy of science, which acknowledges that science can be different in different social milieux. In other words, science is relative to the scientific community that practices science. Kuhn comes to an analogous conclusion, though for Kuhn it is the diachronic relativity of science that emerges from a history of scientific revolutions triggered by model crises and paradigm shifts. Kuhn’s work continues to be debated, are there are significant differences of interpretation that keep alive the controversy as to whether paradigm shifts are rational or irrational. (Why not both by turns?)
Danilevsky presents us with the prospect of the synchronic relativity of science, in which paradigms differ not down through historical time, but across ethnic communities. This strikes at the heart of Enlightenment universalism, but, as I have tried to argue in these newsletters, Enlightenment ideology is not intrinsically scientific, but for a time Enlightenment thinkers made common cause with the sciences as a way both to advance their interests and to fight the common enemy of traditionalism. But scientists themselves have so completely internalized Enlightenment ideology that, even if the Enlightenment can abandon science, scientists cannot abandon the Enlightenment. That science is the same, that it must be the same, for all who practice it, seems to be an unspoken presupposition of science practised sub specie illuminatatis.
I don’t know of any analytical philosophers who have taken up Danilevsky’s argument, even if only to refute it. Nor do I know of any analogous arguments, though my knowledge of contemporary philosophy of science is far from exhaustive. The closest we come to Danilevsky in the mainstream of Anglo-American analytical philosophy of science is the debate over Kuhn’s philosophy of science, which evades some of the most troubling aspects of Danilevsky’s account. But in the absence of a science of science, we cannot definitively exclude Danilevsky’s account, just as we cannot exclude the role of personalities in the development of science (the focus of last week’s newsletter), nor can we exclude the possibility of alternative sciences that explain as much of the world as our familiar sciences, but which are largely disjoint from the familiar sciences. This latter possibility is related as an anecdote in Eugene Wigner’s “The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the Natural Sciences,” which I have quoted many times (though, strangely, apparently not in these newsletters, as I searched back several years just now and didn’t find this quoted, though I could have sworn that I have referenced this so many times my readers may be tired to hearing of it).
Another problem potentially soluble by a science of science: every special science undergoes its own crisis in its turn as it is forced to recognize that it cannot define either the object of its research or the fundamental theoretical terms it employs. There was the crisis in the foundations of mathematics, the crisis in physics, the crisis in psychology, the replication crisis (which falls hardest on social psychology, but which leaves few disciplines unscathed), the crisis in cosmology, and no doubt further crises yet to come. Some of these crises resemble each other, suggesting analogous structural problems within the sciences, while other crises seem to be highly specific to a particular subject matter (as with the crisis in cosmology generated by diverging measures of the Hubble constant). Further research into crises may reveal a deeper commonality, or may reveal each crisis to uniquely supervene on the objects of knowledge distinctive to each science.
The above assumes that a science of science would foreclose upon these troubling scenarios we would prefer not to contemplate. I think we can safely say that we have excluded some unwelcome scenarios for science, and this implies some rudimentary foundations of a science of science, and I think that if the project of a science of science ever came about, i.e., if it ever became a scientific research program on its own—or perhaps a meta-scientific research program—it would gradually foreclose upon the paradoxes of science, excluding them one by one, first taking care of the relatively simple problems, and then moving on to the more difficult ones. We don’t yet even know what the hardest problems are, or what they will be, when we earnestly turn toward formulating a science of science. It is all terra incognita to us.
In the absence of a science of science, however, we do have something to go on, and that is the record of the most successful special sciences, which, through their utility and fruitfulness, have provided a model for the other sciences to follow. And follow they do. A successful scientific discipline spurs imitation in the other special sciences, with the methods and the research program and theoretical structures copied. Science, then, has recourse to analogy. Later sciences are constructed along the lines of earlier successful sciences, and with good reason. The successful sciences have resolved many or most of their problems, and their methods have proved to be a successful way to derive knowledge from the empirical world.
But analogy itself is a theoretical problem. It has no standing as a formal principle of reasoning, and empirically it forces us into the kind of metaphysical speculation that most scientists hate—reflections on the uniformity of nature and such like. If nature is uniform, then a scientific methodology for the investigation of nature can be uniform, and we can know that it is (or will be) as effective in one region of experience as in another region of experience. Proof of this, however, is a metaphysical proof, and not anything scientific in the usual sense.
I should not belabor this idea of the absence of a science of science without acknowledging that it was, of course, the traditional idea that philosophy was the science of science, or, more narrowly, philosophical logic as it was elaborated prior to the mathematization of logic, that was understood to be the science of science, or, as it was also commonly known, the theory of science. Many logical works were called the theory of science, as, for example, Bernard Bolzano’s four volume Theory of Science—Wissenschaftslehre—which was completed in 1837, but the first complete English translation of which did not appear until 2014. In the meantime, between 1837 and 2014, logic, philosophy, and science all underwent rapid growth, and even, we could say, directional growth, that took them in a developmental direction of elaboration that was not anticipated prior to this time.
We can imagine a counterfactual history of logic (and of science) in which logic developed linearly, and did not experience a sudden growth along with a sudden realignment, gradually converging upon the ideal of a theory of science imagined by logicians like Bolzano. While mathematical logic transformed both logic and mathematics both, what was lost in the elaboration of mathematical logic was its connection to this traditional function of logic as the science of science. Moreover, the internal integration of logic was lost, though, it must be observed, other forms of integration appeared as logic was reconstructed analogously to mathematics.
Lately I have been thinking how, with the advent of mathematical logic and analytical philosophy, theory of meaning and theory of reference bifurcated, and with this bifurcation the inverse relationship between the two, explicitly recognized in traditional logic, was lost. Traditional logic asserts that as intension expands, extension narrows, and as extension expands, intension narrows. Intuitively it is easy to see that this is the case: a highly definite meaning applies only to a very few referents, while a generic meaning applies to a great many more referents. But with the development of mathematical logic and analytical philosophy, the theory of meaning and the theory of reference developed in different directions.
What happened? The whole of Western civilization was redirected and realigned by the industrial revolution. Some years ago I wrote about how the industrial revolution essentially hijacked other developments that were already taking place, and which therefore did not have the opportunity to come to a natural fruition because industrial change was so rapid and so catastrophic. I called this the preemption hypothesis (and gave it a further application in Late-Adopter Spacefaring Civilization: The Preemption that Didn’t Happen). We can understand preemption as a more generic historical process in which one historical process that is aggressively expansive overtakes another historical process that is slower and more gradual. An invasive weedy species of cognition expands universally and crowds out endemic species of cognition, driving them to extinction, and leaving us with a philosophical monoculture and its attendant disadvantages.
The kind of industrial civilization we might have gotten had the industrial revolution been an industrial evolution instead of a revolution, unfolding over millennia, as it is likely that the development of agriculture developed, would have been dramatically different. And the industrial revolution spawned revolutions in every adjacent sphere of life and thought. The preemption that was the industrial revolution can also be seen at work in intellectual history, and even in aesthetic and spiritual history. Science and philosophy began to transform early, more or less defining by themselves the advent of modernity when science and philosophy were modern but economics and industry were not. However, with the industrial revolution, science and philosophy were given a new and more violent spur to further growth and realignment.
These redirections and realignments of science, philosophy, and logic are vivid illustrations of the kind of selective development of science that Danilevsky imagined, though he thought of these selective developments in terms of their being embedded in cultural-historical traditions. Western science was embedded in the Western cultural-historical tradition (though Danilevsky called this the Romano-Germanic cultural-historical type), and when this tradition changed due to the industrial revolution, the science (and philosophy and logic) changed along with the tradition. Had the change been given an impetus in a different direction, or had the change not happened at all, science and its adjacent intellectual activities would look rather different today. I will not deny that change would have been much slower, but qualitatively different change might have had unprecedented impacts on history. Obviously, in the present context, what I am thinking of is a tradition like the logic of Bolzano being developed gradually, perhaps over hundreds of years, until it becomes the genuine science of science the want of which we feel at present.
It is ironically reflexive that we cannot exclude the possibility of a counterfactual science, based on a counterfactual logical tradition that grew into a mature theory of science, precisely because we lack this same theory of science. We also cannot prove that our rapid progress in science since the industrial revolution might stagnate for want of a proper theory of science, and due to the cognitive monoculture favored by rapid progress, nor that a counterfactual science, based on a counterfactual logic, might ultimately overtake and outstrip the rapid progress of science after an industrial revolution. It may be the case that, when a civilization experiences a rapid and violent industrial revolution, the accelerated rate of change cripples the other institutions of that civilization, and inevitably leads to both industrial and scientific progress eventually grinding to a halt, because the rate of progress was unsustainable. We could call the two implied scenarios of scientific and industrial development the tortoise scenario and the hare scenario, where slow and steady wins the race.
Best wishes,
Nick
PS—Last Wednesday I hiked up Dog Mountain again (previously in a PS to newsletter 239 I mentioned hiking Dog Mountain on 31 May 2023, almost exactly a year ago). This time I didn’t go all the way to the top, but I went as far as the Dog Mountain Lookout, which is a viewpoint over the Columbia Gorge just short of the top. Spring is one of the best times to do the Dog Mountain walk because of all the wildflowers.
PPS— The new number of Isonomia Quarterly, Volume 2 Issue 2, is now available, which includes a new essay by me, “The Coming Coeval Age” (a PDF version is also available). I plan to also record a video about this for my Today in Philosophy of History series. As with my recent big history paper, “A Complexity Ladder for Big History,” this essay for the Isonomia Quarterly isn’t specifically about philosophy of history, but it does have some interesting implications for history that I will explore and elaborate.
PPPS—I have finished listening to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. This is a classic I have skimmed many times but have not previously read through word-for-word. It always feels good to have the experience of the whole of a classic to better understand the references generated by said classic. Often we think of stoics as being distant and even possessed of an inhuman degree of self-control, but I was surprised by the repeated references to sociability in the Meditations. There is a pervasive sense in Marcus Aurelius of going along to get along.
Immediately upon finishing the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius I started listening to How to Think Like a Roman Emperor: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius by Donald J. Robertson. This is not exactly a commentary on the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, but a kind of exposition, both filling in the backstory to the life of Marcus Aurelius, as well as the life of the author, and showing the relevance of Stoic philosophy in the present. This book is about twice as long as the Meditations themselves.
submitted by geopolicraticus to The_View_from_Oregon [link] [comments]
Re: Scientia sub specie illuminatatis
Friday 17 May 2024
Dear Friends,
In the past several newsletters I have discussed the lack of a science of science, and some of the ramifications of this absence. Another consequence of the absence of a science of science is the selective way in which science develops, and this in turn leads to Danilevsky’s philosophy of science, which acknowledges that science can be different in different social milieux. In other words, science is relative to the scientific community that practices science. Kuhn comes to an analogous conclusion, though for Kuhn it is the diachronic relativity of science that emerges from a history of scientific revolutions triggered by model crises and paradigm shifts. Kuhn’s work continues to be debated, are there are significant differences of interpretation that keep alive the controversy as to whether paradigm shifts are rational or irrational. (Why not both by turns?)
Danilevsky presents us with the prospect of the synchronic relativity of science, in which paradigms differ not down through historical time, but across ethnic communities. This strikes at the heart of Enlightenment universalism, but, as I have tried to argue in these newsletters, Enlightenment ideology is not intrinsically scientific, but for a time Enlightenment thinkers made common cause with the sciences as a way both to advance their interests and to fight the common enemy of traditionalism. But scientists themselves have so completely internalized Enlightenment ideology that, even if the Enlightenment can abandon science, scientists cannot abandon the Enlightenment. That science is the same, that it must be the same, for all who practice it, seems to be an unspoken presupposition of science practised sub specie illuminatatis.
I don’t know of any analytical philosophers who have taken up Danilevsky’s argument, even if only to refute it. Nor do I know of any analogous arguments, though my knowledge of contemporary philosophy of science is far from exhaustive. The closest we come to Danilevsky in the mainstream of Anglo-American analytical philosophy of science is the debate over Kuhn’s philosophy of science, which evades some of the most troubling aspects of Danilevsky’s account. But in the absence of a science of science, we cannot definitively exclude Danilevsky’s account, just as we cannot exclude the role of personalities in the development of science (the focus of last week’s newsletter), nor can we exclude the possibility of alternative sciences that explain as much of the world as our familiar sciences, but which are largely disjoint from the familiar sciences. This latter possibility is related as an anecdote in Eugene Wigner’s “The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the Natural Sciences,” which I have quoted many times (though, strangely, apparently not in these newsletters, as I searched back several years just now and didn’t find this quoted, though I could have sworn that I have referenced this so many times my readers may be tired to hearing of it).
Another problem potentially soluble by a science of science: every special science undergoes its own crisis in its turn as it is forced to recognize that it cannot define either the object of its research or the fundamental theoretical terms it employs. There was the crisis in the foundations of mathematics, the crisis in physics, the crisis in psychology, the replication crisis (which falls hardest on social psychology, but which leaves few disciplines unscathed), the crisis in cosmology, and no doubt further crises yet to come. Some of these crises resemble each other, suggesting analogous structural problems within the sciences, while other crises seem to be highly specific to a particular subject matter (as with the crisis in cosmology generated by diverging measures of the Hubble constant). Further research into crises may reveal a deeper commonality, or may reveal each crisis to uniquely supervene on the objects of knowledge distinctive to each science.
The above assumes that a science of science would foreclose upon these troubling scenarios we would prefer not to contemplate. I think we can safely say that we have excluded some unwelcome scenarios for science, and this implies some rudimentary foundations of a science of science, and I think that if the project of a science of science ever came about, i.e., if it ever became a scientific research program on its own—or perhaps a meta-scientific research program—it would gradually foreclose upon the paradoxes of science, excluding them one by one, first taking care of the relatively simple problems, and then moving on to the more difficult ones. We don’t yet even know what the hardest problems are, or what they will be, when we earnestly turn toward formulating a science of science. It is all terra incognita to us.
In the absence of a science of science, however, we do have something to go on, and that is the record of the most successful special sciences, which, through their utility and fruitfulness, have provided a model for the other sciences to follow. And follow they do. A successful scientific discipline spurs imitation in the other special sciences, with the methods and the research program and theoretical structures copied. Science, then, has recourse to analogy. Later sciences are constructed along the lines of earlier successful sciences, and with good reason. The successful sciences have resolved many or most of their problems, and their methods have proved to be a successful way to derive knowledge from the empirical world.
But analogy itself is a theoretical problem. It has no standing as a formal principle of reasoning, and empirically it forces us into the kind of metaphysical speculation that most scientists hate—reflections on the uniformity of nature and such like. If nature is uniform, then a scientific methodology for the investigation of nature can be uniform, and we can know that it is (or will be) as effective in one region of experience as in another region of experience. Proof of this, however, is a metaphysical proof, and not anything scientific in the usual sense.
I should not belabor this idea of the absence of a science of science without acknowledging that it was, of course, the traditional idea that philosophy was the science of science, or, more narrowly, philosophical logic as it was elaborated prior to the mathematization of logic, that was understood to be the science of science, or, as it was also commonly known, the theory of science. Many logical works were called the theory of science, as, for example, Bernard Bolzano’s four volume Theory of Science—Wissenschaftslehre—which was completed in 1837, but the first complete English translation of which did not appear until 2014. In the meantime, between 1837 and 2014, logic, philosophy, and science all underwent rapid growth, and even, we could say, directional growth, that took them in a developmental direction of elaboration that was not anticipated prior to this time.
We can imagine a counterfactual history of logic (and of science) in which logic developed linearly, and did not experience a sudden growth along with a sudden realignment, gradually converging upon the ideal of a theory of science imagined by logicians like Bolzano. While mathematical logic transformed both logic and mathematics both, what was lost in the elaboration of mathematical logic was its connection to this traditional function of logic as the science of science. Moreover, the internal integration of logic was lost, though, it must be observed, other forms of integration appeared as logic was reconstructed analogously to mathematics.
Lately I have been thinking how, with the advent of mathematical logic and analytical philosophy, theory of meaning and theory of reference bifurcated, and with this bifurcation the inverse relationship between the two, explicitly recognized in traditional logic, was lost. Traditional logic asserts that as intension expands, extension narrows, and as extension expands, intension narrows. Intuitively it is easy to see that this is the case: a highly definite meaning applies only to a very few referents, while a generic meaning applies to a great many more referents. But with the development of mathematical logic and analytical philosophy, the theory of meaning and the theory of reference developed in different directions.
What happened? The whole of Western civilization was redirected and realigned by the industrial revolution. Some years ago I wrote about how the industrial revolution essentially hijacked other developments that were already taking place, and which therefore did not have the opportunity to come to a natural fruition because industrial change was so rapid and so catastrophic. I called this the preemption hypothesis (and gave it a further application in Late-Adopter Spacefaring Civilization: The Preemption that Didn’t Happen). We can understand preemption as a more generic historical process in which one historical process that is aggressively expansive overtakes another historical process that is slower and more gradual. An invasive weedy species of cognition expands universally and crowds out endemic species of cognition, driving them to extinction, and leaving us with a philosophical monoculture and its attendant disadvantages.
The kind of industrial civilization we might have gotten had the industrial revolution been an industrial evolution instead of a revolution, unfolding over millennia, as it is likely that the development of agriculture developed, would have been dramatically different. And the industrial revolution spawned revolutions in every adjacent sphere of life and thought. The preemption that was the industrial revolution can also be seen at work in intellectual history, and even in aesthetic and spiritual history. Science and philosophy began to transform early, more or less defining by themselves the advent of modernity when science and philosophy were modern but economics and industry were not. However, with the industrial revolution, science and philosophy were given a new and more violent spur to further growth and realignment.
These redirections and realignments of science, philosophy, and logic are vivid illustrations of the kind of selective development of science that Danilevsky imagined, though he thought of these selective developments in terms of their being embedded in cultural-historical traditions. Western science was embedded in the Western cultural-historical tradition (though Danilevsky called this the Romano-Germanic cultural-historical type), and when this tradition changed due to the industrial revolution, the science (and philosophy and logic) changed along with the tradition. Had the change been given an impetus in a different direction, or had the change not happened at all, science and its adjacent intellectual activities would look rather different today. I will not deny that change would have been much slower, but qualitatively different change might have had unprecedented impacts on history. Obviously, in the present context, what I am thinking of is a tradition like the logic of Bolzano being developed gradually, perhaps over hundreds of years, until it becomes the genuine science of science the want of which we feel at present.
It is ironically reflexive that we cannot exclude the possibility of a counterfactual science, based on a counterfactual logical tradition that grew into a mature theory of science, precisely because we lack this same theory of science. We also cannot prove that our rapid progress in science since the industrial revolution might stagnate for want of a proper theory of science, and due to the cognitive monoculture favored by rapid progress, nor that a counterfactual science, based on a counterfactual logic, might ultimately overtake and outstrip the rapid progress of science after an industrial revolution. It may be the case that, when a civilization experiences a rapid and violent industrial revolution, the accelerated rate of change cripples the other institutions of that civilization, and inevitably leads to both industrial and scientific progress eventually grinding to a halt, because the rate of progress was unsustainable. We could call the two implied scenarios of scientific and industrial development the tortoise scenario and the hare scenario, where slow and steady wins the race.
Best wishes,
Nick
PS—Last Wednesday I hiked up Dog Mountain again (previously in a PS to newsletter 239 I mentioned hiking Dog Mountain on 31 May 2023, almost exactly a year ago). This time I didn’t go all the way to the top, but I went as far as the Dog Mountain Lookout, which is a viewpoint over the Columbia Gorge just short of the top. Spring is one of the best times to do the Dog Mountain walk because of all the wildflowers.
PPS— The new number of Isonomia Quarterly, Volume 2 Issue 2, is now available, which includes a new essay by me, “The Coming Coeval Age” (a PDF version is also available). I plan to also record a video about this for my Today in Philosophy of History series. As with my recent big history paper, “A Complexity Ladder for Big History,” this essay for the Isonomia Quarterly isn’t specifically about philosophy of history, but it does have some interesting implications for history that I will explore and elaborate.
PPPS—I have finished listening to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. This is a classic I have skimmed many times but have not previously read through word-for-word. It always feels good to have the experience of the whole of a classic to better understand the references generated by said classic. Often we think of stoics as being distant and even possessed of an inhuman degree of self-control, but I was surprised by the repeated references to sociability in the Meditations. There is a pervasive sense in Marcus Aurelius of going along to get along.
Immediately upon finishing the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius I started listening to How to Think Like a Roman Emperor: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius by Donald J. Robertson. This is not exactly a commentary on the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, but a kind of exposition, both filling in the backstory to the life of Marcus Aurelius, as well as the life of the author, and showing the relevance of Stoic philosophy in the present. This book is about twice as long as the Meditations themselves.
Newsletter link:
https://mailchi.mp/9c0106fe7105/the-view-from-oregon-289
2024.05.19 03:43 jackattck420 how do i help my friend thats being manipulated by her family
Me (M21) and my best friend (F20) have been friends for almost 6 years now. We are so close that my mother considers her a “favorite child” out of me and my other siblings.
*pre context*.
My friend has had many family struggles growing up. there are too many struggles to list but the main ones are,
divorced/absent parents, alcoholic parents, gang member brothers and sisters, family members in and out of jail, family drug abuse, just to name a few. (Basically anything bad that you can think of she’s been through it). And as you can imagine she has never had a stable home environment since birth. BUT! she is not like any of her family, her personality is very sweet and "good hearted", her main goal at all times is to make everyone happy even at the expense of her own happiness.
her siblings:
mother- not sure of her age, major alcoholic, absent, history of drug use, manipulative
father- absent, alcoholic,
youngest brother- 28y/o, felon/gang member, 0 education, currently lives in the oldest sisters basement with his 8mo pregnant wife, super manipulative with love bombing and charm.
2nd youngest sister- 26y/o, 4 kids, 4 time felon, prostitute/escort, gang member, 0 education, currently pregnant with twins in prison for her 4th felony, very erratic and violent, suffers from BPD.
oldest brother- 34y/o, no kids, sort of has his life together, a distant history of criminal charges, has done his best to turn his life around, does not keep in contact with any of his family unless of emergencies.
oldest sister- 29y/o, 1 kid, has a husband, no criminal history, co-owns a legitimate business with the youngest brother, Considered the "nerd" of the family because she was more into books/reading rather than drugs/drinking, she uses the fact that she’s known to be the "smartest in the family" to manipulate her siblings into doing what she suggests.
heres the situation
In the year of 2022 my friend became super depressed living in our very small hometown and desperately needed a change of scenery. so in desperation she got back into contact with her oldest sister and youngest brother.. Whenever my friend reached out to her siblings, they were in desperate need of employees for their business; up until this point they had been running it all by themselves with small bits of help from close friends. The second my friend contacted them they started love bombing her and filling her head with all of these ideas of them being a family again while simultaneously sneaking in different ways to offer her a job at their business and promising her a wage that she couldn’t refuse...
After about a month they eventually convinced her to move across the US to live with them and work at their establishment. I knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning, but the topic of a dysfunctional family is tricky whenever your only just a friend..Nonetheless i tried my best to support her because she was finally starting to seem less depressed and more excited/giddy about her future. she moved up there with a plan in mind that she was only going to stay for a couple months; just long enough to make some money and figure out what she wanted to do in life, and then move off and pursue whatever it was she wanted to do.
Her first couple of months after the move were amazing, she moved in with her siblings and made new friends, hung out with her siblings, worked, partied, etc.. she was having a blast.. UNTIL her siblings were reluctant to pay her the wage that they had promised her, because they knew that she wasn’t confrontational enough to say anything about it.
fastforward
Now its been 2-1/2 years since she’s moved down there and she’s worse off now than before she moved. once the new wore off, things started changing with her siblings dynamic. her oldest sister became the "dictator" of the household by "suggesting" things for my friend to do and then making her feel guilty when she didn’t take her suggestions. and her youngest brother slowly started to become more sneaky and manipulative with the words he used.
*older sister real life manipulation example:*
older sister: " i think you should start coming into work on Sundays" my friend: "no thank you, Sunday is one of my only days off" older sister: *refuses to talk to my friend for days/weeks* my friend: "did i do something wrong? we haven’t spoken in forever?" older sister: "thats not true, Im just starting to wonder why you ever came up here in the first place."
*youngest brother real life manipulation example:*
youngest brother: *does some snaky shit behind my friends back* my friend: *confronts and questions him on if he’s being honest and truthful towards her* youngest brother: "Im your family i cant believe you would even think about questioning my loyalty!" youngest brother: *sends my friend 30$ on cashapp to help make her feel better*
Now it has gotten to the point where my friend hates living there and is distraught/depressed but has no option but to stay because of her financial situation. And every time an altercation happens with her siblings they manipulate her into feeling bad. Her siblings crutch 100% on the whole "were family" or "bloods thicker than water" bullshit and it pisses me off. They repeatedly disregard her feelings and boundaries and use the excuse that "their family" and you have to be loyal to family no matter what, except for the fact that they haven’t been loyal to her at all.
Ive tried talking to her about this and about how the way they are treating her isn’t right or fair, but every time i bring it up she tells me Im disrespecting her family..
i don’t know what to do or how to approach this anymore, i feel that one wrong word in a conversation about this could end a 6 year friendship with someone that i consider apart of my own family.
(ive tried to be as descriptive as possible but it is hard to fit 2 years worth of bullshit into a reddit post)
TLDR: my friend got finessed/manipulated by her older siblings to move across the US and come work for them, only to be guilt tripped and walked-over once she moved down there.
submitted by jackattck420 to Adulting [link] [comments]
*pre context*.
My friend has had many family struggles growing up. there are too many struggles to list but the main ones are,
divorced/absent parents, alcoholic parents, gang member brothers and sisters, family members in and out of jail, family drug abuse, just to name a few. (Basically anything bad that you can think of she’s been through it). And as you can imagine she has never had a stable home environment since birth. BUT! she is not like any of her family, her personality is very sweet and "good hearted", her main goal at all times is to make everyone happy even at the expense of her own happiness.
her siblings:
mother- not sure of her age, major alcoholic, absent, history of drug use, manipulative
father- absent, alcoholic,
youngest brother- 28y/o, felon/gang member, 0 education, currently lives in the oldest sisters basement with his 8mo pregnant wife, super manipulative with love bombing and charm.
2nd youngest sister- 26y/o, 4 kids, 4 time felon, prostitute/escort, gang member, 0 education, currently pregnant with twins in prison for her 4th felony, very erratic and violent, suffers from BPD.
oldest brother- 34y/o, no kids, sort of has his life together, a distant history of criminal charges, has done his best to turn his life around, does not keep in contact with any of his family unless of emergencies.
oldest sister- 29y/o, 1 kid, has a husband, no criminal history, co-owns a legitimate business with the youngest brother, Considered the "nerd" of the family because she was more into books/reading rather than drugs/drinking, she uses the fact that she’s known to be the "smartest in the family" to manipulate her siblings into doing what she suggests.
heres the situation
In the year of 2022 my friend became super depressed living in our very small hometown and desperately needed a change of scenery. so in desperation she got back into contact with her oldest sister and youngest brother.. Whenever my friend reached out to her siblings, they were in desperate need of employees for their business; up until this point they had been running it all by themselves with small bits of help from close friends. The second my friend contacted them they started love bombing her and filling her head with all of these ideas of them being a family again while simultaneously sneaking in different ways to offer her a job at their business and promising her a wage that she couldn’t refuse...
After about a month they eventually convinced her to move across the US to live with them and work at their establishment. I knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning, but the topic of a dysfunctional family is tricky whenever your only just a friend..Nonetheless i tried my best to support her because she was finally starting to seem less depressed and more excited/giddy about her future. she moved up there with a plan in mind that she was only going to stay for a couple months; just long enough to make some money and figure out what she wanted to do in life, and then move off and pursue whatever it was she wanted to do.
Her first couple of months after the move were amazing, she moved in with her siblings and made new friends, hung out with her siblings, worked, partied, etc.. she was having a blast.. UNTIL her siblings were reluctant to pay her the wage that they had promised her, because they knew that she wasn’t confrontational enough to say anything about it.
fastforward
Now its been 2-1/2 years since she’s moved down there and she’s worse off now than before she moved. once the new wore off, things started changing with her siblings dynamic. her oldest sister became the "dictator" of the household by "suggesting" things for my friend to do and then making her feel guilty when she didn’t take her suggestions. and her youngest brother slowly started to become more sneaky and manipulative with the words he used.
*older sister real life manipulation example:*
older sister: " i think you should start coming into work on Sundays" my friend: "no thank you, Sunday is one of my only days off" older sister: *refuses to talk to my friend for days/weeks* my friend: "did i do something wrong? we haven’t spoken in forever?" older sister: "thats not true, Im just starting to wonder why you ever came up here in the first place."
*youngest brother real life manipulation example:*
youngest brother: *does some snaky shit behind my friends back* my friend: *confronts and questions him on if he’s being honest and truthful towards her* youngest brother: "Im your family i cant believe you would even think about questioning my loyalty!" youngest brother: *sends my friend 30$ on cashapp to help make her feel better*
Now it has gotten to the point where my friend hates living there and is distraught/depressed but has no option but to stay because of her financial situation. And every time an altercation happens with her siblings they manipulate her into feeling bad. Her siblings crutch 100% on the whole "were family" or "bloods thicker than water" bullshit and it pisses me off. They repeatedly disregard her feelings and boundaries and use the excuse that "their family" and you have to be loyal to family no matter what, except for the fact that they haven’t been loyal to her at all.
Ive tried talking to her about this and about how the way they are treating her isn’t right or fair, but every time i bring it up she tells me Im disrespecting her family..
i don’t know what to do or how to approach this anymore, i feel that one wrong word in a conversation about this could end a 6 year friendship with someone that i consider apart of my own family.
(ive tried to be as descriptive as possible but it is hard to fit 2 years worth of bullshit into a reddit post)
TLDR: my friend got finessed/manipulated by her older siblings to move across the US and come work for them, only to be guilt tripped and walked-over once she moved down there.
2024.05.19 03:39 gomesauce IMEI Blacklisted After Owning Device for Nearly a Year
Hi all, To set the stage, I bought an iPhone 13 Pro off eBay 11 months ago. The vendor is a trusted, certified refurbished seller with thousands of sales, and it came with a one year warranty from AllState.
My phone has been working amazing up until earlier this week when I wasn’t able to get any service. After a few restarts and no luck, I figured it was just a bad SIM card. Two new SIM cards, and no luck. I continued by working with Apple, who ran diagnostics that determined there wasn’t anything physically wrong with the device. After a few escalations, I had a three way call with Apple and US Cellular and the USC rep was adamant it was a phone issue. And the issue was elevated with Apple engineers.
Seeing no hope in sight, I began the claim process with All State. After two days of back and forth, I was told my claim was on hold because my phone was flagged as lost/stolen. This led to yet another three way call with USC, this time with All State. Finally, after trying every troubleshooting step in the book with USC previously, they had discovered my IMEI was blacklisted. (THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN THREE DAYS, 2 STORE VISITS, AND FIVE PHONE CALLS TO USC TO FIGURE OUT.) USC would not tell me who blacklisted my IMEI, and are unwilling to help me get it removed from my list despite having a valid receipt and the phone being on my account for over 11 months.
My claim with All State is still under review. I’m starting to feel a little hopeless. Anyone face something similar or have any recommendations?
submitted by gomesauce to iphone [link] [comments]
My phone has been working amazing up until earlier this week when I wasn’t able to get any service. After a few restarts and no luck, I figured it was just a bad SIM card. Two new SIM cards, and no luck. I continued by working with Apple, who ran diagnostics that determined there wasn’t anything physically wrong with the device. After a few escalations, I had a three way call with Apple and US Cellular and the USC rep was adamant it was a phone issue. And the issue was elevated with Apple engineers.
Seeing no hope in sight, I began the claim process with All State. After two days of back and forth, I was told my claim was on hold because my phone was flagged as lost/stolen. This led to yet another three way call with USC, this time with All State. Finally, after trying every troubleshooting step in the book with USC previously, they had discovered my IMEI was blacklisted. (THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN THREE DAYS, 2 STORE VISITS, AND FIVE PHONE CALLS TO USC TO FIGURE OUT.) USC would not tell me who blacklisted my IMEI, and are unwilling to help me get it removed from my list despite having a valid receipt and the phone being on my account for over 11 months.
My claim with All State is still under review. I’m starting to feel a little hopeless. Anyone face something similar or have any recommendations?
2024.05.19 03:37 gomesauce IMEI Blacklisted Despite Having Phone for 11 months
Hi all, To set the stage, I bought an iPhone 13 Pro off eBay 11 months ago. The vendor is a trusted, certified refurbished seller with thousands of sales, and it came with a one year warranty from AllState.
My phone has been working amazing up until earlier this week when I wasn’t able to get any service. After a few restarts and no luck, I figured it was just a bad SIM card. Two new SIM cards, and no luck. I continued by working with Apple, who ran diagnostics that determined there wasn’t anything physically wrong with the device. After a few escalations, I had a three way call with Apple and US Cellular and the USC rep was adamant it was a phone issue. And the issue was elevated with Apple engineers.
Seeing no hope in sight, I began the claim process with All State. After two days of back and forth, I was told my claim was on hold because my phone was flagged as lost/stolen. This led to yet another three way call with USC, this time with All State. Finally, after trying every troubleshooting step in the book with USC previously, they had discovered my IMEI was blacklisted. (THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN THREE DAYS, 2 STORE VISITS, AND FIVE PHONE CALLS TO USC TO FIGURE OUT.) USC would not tell me who blacklisted my IMEI, and are unwilling to help me get it removed from my list despite having a valid receipt and the phone being on my account for over 11 months.
My claim with All State is still under review. I’m starting to feel a little hopeless. Anyone face something similar or have any recommendations?
submitted by gomesauce to USCellular [link] [comments]
My phone has been working amazing up until earlier this week when I wasn’t able to get any service. After a few restarts and no luck, I figured it was just a bad SIM card. Two new SIM cards, and no luck. I continued by working with Apple, who ran diagnostics that determined there wasn’t anything physically wrong with the device. After a few escalations, I had a three way call with Apple and US Cellular and the USC rep was adamant it was a phone issue. And the issue was elevated with Apple engineers.
Seeing no hope in sight, I began the claim process with All State. After two days of back and forth, I was told my claim was on hold because my phone was flagged as lost/stolen. This led to yet another three way call with USC, this time with All State. Finally, after trying every troubleshooting step in the book with USC previously, they had discovered my IMEI was blacklisted. (THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN THREE DAYS, 2 STORE VISITS, AND FIVE PHONE CALLS TO USC TO FIGURE OUT.) USC would not tell me who blacklisted my IMEI, and are unwilling to help me get it removed from my list despite having a valid receipt and the phone being on my account for over 11 months.
My claim with All State is still under review. I’m starting to feel a little hopeless. Anyone face something similar or have any recommendations?
2024.05.19 02:41 Violet_Lovecraft SPOILERS: I finally finished CC3. The best thing about "House of Flame and Shadow" by SJM was the Book Cover
I've read it all. I've read all of ACOTAR, all of TOG and now, unfortunately all of CC.
I'm not someone who cares that much about wasting time if the book was bad, but CC3 must be on the top of the worst reads of 2024 for me.
Here's the things that annoyed the fuck out of me and please fill in your worst triggers in this book, there are probably too many for me to remember:
Reader G-Spot satisfaction 0/10
submitted by Violet_Lovecraft to fantasyromance [link] [comments]
I'm not someone who cares that much about wasting time if the book was bad, but CC3 must be on the top of the worst reads of 2024 for me.
Here's the things that annoyed the fuck out of me and please fill in your worst triggers in this book, there are probably too many for me to remember:
- Let's start with all of the "Alphahole" bullshit. Whenever Hunt is trying to protect Bryce, the bitch just turns around and say "Alphahole". Just don't! Wow, so badass, so independent. She's just that much of a boss and she don't need no man!
- The absolutely underwhelming fight with the Asteri, who by the way were not suppose to be killed that easily! Then Lidia just goes ahead and fries that one mf to death..?! Don't get me wrong, that was badass af and I wasn't mad about her being able to do it, but the whole notion was that they were unkillable and Bryce was more or less the only one who could do it.
- Nobody died in the last fight?! I mean... not even a side character?
- Where was the depiction of bloodshed and tyrany? Where was the struggle and torment?? When the Asteri thought they outstmarted Bryce and Hunt... how convient was it that they magically thought of what the Asteri would be doing? Why not let the good guys lose a bit of a fight, why does everything fucking work out for them? That made it so, so, so boring. The most anticlimatic battle I've ever had the displeasure to read.
- When Bryce opened the portal to ask Nesta for the Mask and then again to get her parents back, Rhys took so damn look to come through? Dude was spreading darkness for 5 hours and still we didn't even see him show up just as the portal is closing or something? Bryce and Nesta could have had a fucking tea party before he would show up! Come ON!
- In CC2 Fury was hyped up so much and I expected her to be a huge character in CC3.. but nope. Why is one of the most badass women in the books just showing up on a helicopter and left behind to babysit?! Not even included in the last battle?!
- Also, wasn't Tharion suppose to be addicted to The Viper Queen's venom? Does SJM not know or has she not researched how difficult it is to detox from an actual addiction and all the side effects that come with it? There was no struggle, nothing. He just left and was all good and dandy.
- The whole Tharion and Ethan POVs ... Did not care. Didn't do anything for the actual story. Why were they there at all.
Reader G-Spot satisfaction 0/10
2024.05.19 02:27 Ezura1998 [M4A] The Ranger and the Source
Over two hundred years after The War of Arcane Sundering had destroyed the greatest kingdoms of Arches, anyone who is found with the ability to weave magic is taken and trained under the watchful eye of The Mage’s Circle. Sources that survive the training with their minds in tact are assigned to one of the five noble houses to serve as court mages. One of these sources, taken when she was little, has escaped The Circle with the help of an unknown entity. Through dreams she has seen visions of a past’s past. A man, the first one to weave magic and change his reality. But with only blurred glimpses into another’s past, will she be able to find what she seeks before The Circle’s Magehunters find her? Will she be able to free herself from their endless watch?
After twenty years of tacking and hunting for the Ironthorn Syndicate, Ezura has started to forget his past life. Growing up as a half-elf in an elven clan, Ezura did not have the luxury of time to learn the skills of hunting and tracking before he reached adulthood. He began his training earlier than any other child in the clan and despite the little time he had compared to others, he became one of their most skilled Eladan, or ranger in common language. After an incident involving a knight from a nearby kingdom, the ranger became a criminal, exiled from his clan and hunted by the kingdom. Joining the Ironthorns was the only way he could live without constantly running from soldiers and bounty hunters. But years of hunting for the syndicate have worn on the half-elf. He wants out, but after burning into the family, the only way to leave is to bleed out. After finding an old book during one of his hunts however, he thinks that its contents may be the key to finding his way out of a life of crime. If he could find someone who could decipher the diagrams and glyphs that fill the pages, he could change the past and stay in his clan. But who would be able to comprehend such things?
Hi there! I’m Keith, a 25 year old in CST. If you read through all that, you might be interested in rebooting an old roleplay that I have been itching to write again. I’m looking for a semi-lit to literate partner over the age of 20 to write as a sorceress on the run. If you would like some information on the characterization of this sorceress from the prior story, I would be more than willing to provide some info. If not, I’d be really excited to see your completely new take on this character. I usually write anywhere from two to three paragraphs in my responses and would like my partner to do about the same, giving some leeway for shorter responses during back and forth dialogue. I do work full time and have a baby so I may not always respond right away but I try to write a response two days after my partner posts or less. Of course I would communicate with you if that should change. I’ve found that Discord has been the best platform to keep the story together so I prefer to use that.
If you are interested in restarting this journey with me, I would love to hear from you! If you could send a small snippet of any past writing you’ve done, that would be much appreciated. I look forward to seeing how the stories of these two characters end.
submitted by Ezura1998 to Roleplay [link] [comments]
After twenty years of tacking and hunting for the Ironthorn Syndicate, Ezura has started to forget his past life. Growing up as a half-elf in an elven clan, Ezura did not have the luxury of time to learn the skills of hunting and tracking before he reached adulthood. He began his training earlier than any other child in the clan and despite the little time he had compared to others, he became one of their most skilled Eladan, or ranger in common language. After an incident involving a knight from a nearby kingdom, the ranger became a criminal, exiled from his clan and hunted by the kingdom. Joining the Ironthorns was the only way he could live without constantly running from soldiers and bounty hunters. But years of hunting for the syndicate have worn on the half-elf. He wants out, but after burning into the family, the only way to leave is to bleed out. After finding an old book during one of his hunts however, he thinks that its contents may be the key to finding his way out of a life of crime. If he could find someone who could decipher the diagrams and glyphs that fill the pages, he could change the past and stay in his clan. But who would be able to comprehend such things?
Hi there! I’m Keith, a 25 year old in CST. If you read through all that, you might be interested in rebooting an old roleplay that I have been itching to write again. I’m looking for a semi-lit to literate partner over the age of 20 to write as a sorceress on the run. If you would like some information on the characterization of this sorceress from the prior story, I would be more than willing to provide some info. If not, I’d be really excited to see your completely new take on this character. I usually write anywhere from two to three paragraphs in my responses and would like my partner to do about the same, giving some leeway for shorter responses during back and forth dialogue. I do work full time and have a baby so I may not always respond right away but I try to write a response two days after my partner posts or less. Of course I would communicate with you if that should change. I’ve found that Discord has been the best platform to keep the story together so I prefer to use that.
If you are interested in restarting this journey with me, I would love to hear from you! If you could send a small snippet of any past writing you’ve done, that would be much appreciated. I look forward to seeing how the stories of these two characters end.
2024.05.19 02:26 Billy_J14 Tips/Help?
I've put a good few hours into this game and I still feel like I've barely improved any on understanding how things are working. The following are a few bulletin points of points that I'd like greater clarification on.
submitted by Billy_J14 to victoria3 [link] [comments]
- Rebels of a puppet you're attempting to annex , you win the war but the rebels break off to form a new nation, despite the fact you literally held both the rebel province and the original.
- Constant subject rebellions , becomes rather disruptive / annoying , preventing diplomatic plays as you have to go stomp out a rebellion that consists of a single disgruntled grandad.
- Naval invasions, seriously; is this just an issue with the game in the current state? When I have a Flotilla of 60 ships and I'm having my invasion stop because the same 5 ship flotilla keeps popping up with each ship having a crew of 5 people , it gets to be a bit clownish. You should be able to "force" a landing attempt if you have overwhelming numbers of ships.
- Another issue : why are my naval invasions pausing because they psychically know that a flotilla is coming from literally the other side of the world, they seem to wait literal weeks or months to do with the above 5 boats.
- Another issue x2 : Naval invasions seem to just .... pause ? at points , Naval units are unoccupied , the army assigned has relatively high morale and manpower and organization and yet they'll sit there for weeks before launching the invasion, if ever.
- Armies , is it better to have 1-2 (high rank) officers assigned with "Adamant Defense" / "Pillage" / "Heavy Barrage" , or is it better to just fill up all 4 slots? It seems like if you have multiple officers, whoever is the left most takes priority? E.G. I had an adamant defense and a pillage officer, but the army more or less never attacked, even on fronts where they had rather strong numerical advantage.
- Armies 2 : Is there a "meta" strategy for handling big nations? I tend to just do adamant defense for a while, let them burn MP and then mop up the rest.
- Armies 3 : Is there a such thing as an ideal army comp? I tend to just do 50/50 Infantry/Arty or 60-80/40-20% of both
- Navy : Does the rank of the Admiral matter / does it let them bring more boats into a single engagement , and should I have three admirals, one for Intercept/Raid/Escort?
- Great Powers : Is liberating countries the best way to kneecap the great powers? E.G. Ukraine & Kazan from Russia , I've been liberating but it feels like it's a bit of a double edged sword as some of the countries released can be powerful in their own right and can go against you later.
- Italy : Why the fuck can it annex my Piedmont / Tuscany / Lucca / Modena etc. puppets without even a notification, with the above great power question , Italy just keeps reforming itself, it's incredibly infuriating.
- Conquering : Is it better to actually gain land, or better to puppet them and have them depend on your customs union and pay you a tithe? (Ignoring Infamy costs)
- On this note , is it better in terms of less infamy to outright take land, or to puppet then annex, I know that annexing puppet's lands costs less infamy, but does the initial puppet cost combined with lowering autonomy etc. make the cost greater in terms of overall infamy generated?
- Economy : It's either nuanced, or I'm dumb or both. I spend a lot of my early game building a couple of construction sectors, Logging camps & Iron Mines , Gold mines if they're there and largely ignoring everything under the agriculture tab and letting the investment pool build farms in the assumption that it'll build things that I'm short on (grain, tobacco, cloth, etc.) ; the only exceptions to this are usually in the case of something like Afghanistan where opium goes brrt. Mid/Late game I tend to build a bunch of Govt. Admin for Bureaucracy for the institutions, and just a bunch of factories : Glass, Paper, Steel etc.
- GDP Growth and spontaneous dips without any seeming cause , is this normal, am I doing something wrong? This is particularly worrisome to me when I try to play bigger nations : France/Germany/Russia/GB where I can be growing at a fairly steady rate then I just hemmorhage 10-20% GDP in a short fashion, bonus points if I applied a building upgrade that said it'd make money. (no supply shortages)
- Upgrades to buildings : Seriously, this one confuses me extensively and I can single-handedly cause GB's entirely 200m GDP economy to tank to 80m in a few simple clicks because I decided to tell certain industries to use a steam donkey or sumt.
- Tall or Wide for industry for EOS , should I just make a few super industrialized counties and just let immigration within the country handle it, or should I spread it out a bit?
- Should I ever use rail transportation , it seems to have more cons than pros, sure it means less employees needed but in almost every case I've seen, it's not worth it monetarily and population tends to not be much of an issue. (Minus stuff like small nations without conquering or places like the sahara)
- Refrigeration for fishing/whaling , Livestock ranches in general , anything better than harvesting tools for farms,
- Trade : Tips in general , importing seems to cost you money even if it says otherwise, and exporting feels rather disconnected.
- Shipyards : Rather annoying gripe as once you upgrade to Steamers from Clippers you might still need them , leastwise this is true in case you have junior customs members.
- Arms / Artillery industry : Subsidize during peacetime or just let them sit there empty until war kicks off again? Micromanaging trade for these things considering how short most of the AI wars last, it becomes more tedious than anything.
- Urban Centers : Do these things just suck? They seem to always be losing money and services even if taxed don't seem to really ever make these things require more than market stalls , let alone any lighting upgrade.
- Fishing / Whaling : Does this just suck in general? I've barely ever seen these things turn a profit.
- Treaty ports (Qing) : Do these just let you bypass embargoes?
- Colonies : Are they actually worth it? I like doing it just because it let's me paint the map, and Niger (Delta) can actually be rather useful from my experience as that region has a rather large amount of population and seems fairly easy to integrate into your country.
- A lot of the small pacific islands under the oceania region feel utterly worthless, they're all very small, low population, have no real interesting resources and all need a port that'll just act as a money sink as the islands will never get enough population to staff them or make it a profitable venture.
- Colonial administration pros/cons? They don't seem particularly good in general.
- Education : Does literacy matter much? It seems like if you have even a 50% ish rate, qualifications aren't very hard to get filled, secondly how many universities are too many? Should you bother making numerous in high pop states, just a few in say your capital for the innovation bonus (which seems to get capped off rather quickly?)
- Tech : Is it better to research all of a previous row's techs or does it not matter, I read somewhere that if you research a previous row fully, you get a bonus but I haven't seen anything to corroborate that.
- Assimilation / Conversion : How , aside from promoting national values decree?
2024.05.19 02:21 AtypicalGuy12345 32 [M4F] #Toronto/Online Discovering the Lost Art of Communication
Believe it or not, there was a time when people actually talked to each other—shocking, especially for the younger generation, right?
But kidding aside, there's a grain of truth in that jest. I'm a firm believer that genuine connections start with meaningful conversations. I'm on the lookout for someone who appreciates the beauty of communication as much as I do.
About Me: I'm the kind of person who finds joy in learning about people from all walks of life. Whether it's through the pages of a book, the scenes of a movie, or engaging in conversation, there's always something to discover about the human condition. I believe in making every moment count.
I've been told I have a knack for turning ordinary conversations into something a bit more exciting. If you enjoy a good laugh, playful banter, and a dash of charm, we might just hit it off.
I'm searching for someone who knows how to keep a conversation interesting. If you appreciate witty banter, love sharing your favourite cheesy jokes, and aren't shy about throwing in a compliment or two, you might be the one I'm looking for.
If you're ready to embark on a communication adventure filled with laughter, curiosity, and a hint of flirtation, send me a message. Let's see where our conversation takes us and if we can make each other's day a little brighter.
About You:
I do have a type. Currently working on my overall fitness journey during bouts of depression (somewhere between fit and dad bod?). I'm looking for a partnesub who is somewhat in shape or thin. Apparently, someone once told me that I have a thing for dark-haired women with big lips—go figure!
A bit about me: I'm pretty open, dark-skinned, 5'7, black hair, brown eyes, working in IT. Feel free to bounce ideas off me to see if there's a match. I enjoy wordplay, encouragement, and, of course, seeing you. Intellectual stimulation is crucial, and effort goes a long way. Currently learning guitar for fun (what a journey!). I'm pretty much an open book.
If any of this resonates with you, don't hesitate to reach out. Pouring yourself out there isn't easy, but to make sure you've read this far, please include your favourite drink or any books you've read lately in your message!
submitted by AtypicalGuy12345 to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]
But kidding aside, there's a grain of truth in that jest. I'm a firm believer that genuine connections start with meaningful conversations. I'm on the lookout for someone who appreciates the beauty of communication as much as I do.
About Me: I'm the kind of person who finds joy in learning about people from all walks of life. Whether it's through the pages of a book, the scenes of a movie, or engaging in conversation, there's always something to discover about the human condition. I believe in making every moment count.
I've been told I have a knack for turning ordinary conversations into something a bit more exciting. If you enjoy a good laugh, playful banter, and a dash of charm, we might just hit it off.
I'm searching for someone who knows how to keep a conversation interesting. If you appreciate witty banter, love sharing your favourite cheesy jokes, and aren't shy about throwing in a compliment or two, you might be the one I'm looking for.
If you're ready to embark on a communication adventure filled with laughter, curiosity, and a hint of flirtation, send me a message. Let's see where our conversation takes us and if we can make each other's day a little brighter.
About You:
I do have a type. Currently working on my overall fitness journey during bouts of depression (somewhere between fit and dad bod?). I'm looking for a partnesub who is somewhat in shape or thin. Apparently, someone once told me that I have a thing for dark-haired women with big lips—go figure!
A bit about me: I'm pretty open, dark-skinned, 5'7, black hair, brown eyes, working in IT. Feel free to bounce ideas off me to see if there's a match. I enjoy wordplay, encouragement, and, of course, seeing you. Intellectual stimulation is crucial, and effort goes a long way. Currently learning guitar for fun (what a journey!). I'm pretty much an open book.
If any of this resonates with you, don't hesitate to reach out. Pouring yourself out there isn't easy, but to make sure you've read this far, please include your favourite drink or any books you've read lately in your message!