Cute little notes for your boyfriend
Make your cards, cross your X's, increase your willpower.
2014.02.07 21:49 elleGeneralisimo Make your cards, cross your X's, increase your willpower.
People here are on a 50-day journey to create/break one or more habits by simply making a 7x7 grid on a card and crossing off each day with a fat-ass felt marker, because your willpower is like a muscle, and it gets stronger and stronger as you exercise it.
2008.01.25 05:07 A subreddit for cute and cuddly pictures
Things that make you go AWW! -- like puppies, bunnies, babies, and so on... Feel free to post original pictures and videos of cute things.
2013.11.12 15:45 USS_Haberdasher A place for cuddly inanimate objects
Have a favorite stuffed animal that you've had since you were a kid? You a college kid who has a plush rabbit or corgi to hold you over until you can afford to care for a real one? Maybe you just got a cute/funny plushie as gift or are planning on giving one. Then post that cute stuff here.
2024.05.19 20:48 Shaebaeflute Singing lessons
Hello! I’m a first year teacher teaching K-3 at 3 different schools. I have two girls who are coming in for singing lessons on Tuesdays during their recess and I’m an instrumentalist so I’m still trying to figure out what to do in a singing lesson (I say singing because I’ve been told by others to look at it more as a singing lesson instead of vocal because they are both in second grade and maybe not teach a lot of technique? Idk). My colleague is letting me borrow a couple of books, one has tongue twisters with specific goals (which seriously helps me too so I know what to have them do/look out for) and the other has some cute little fun/folk songs.
Does anyone have any suggestions on how to teach singing lessons? We have only met up once and we talked about singing posture while standing up, how to breathe/where you should feel your breathing, and we did some tongue twisters. I also asked what they both want to get from our time working together and they told me these things: - practice singing more songs - how to be less scared performing in front of others - how to act in front of audience - learn how to read notes (just one, the other already knows) - want to also learn how to play more instruments
One of them has also asked me if I can give her some homework to do over the week until the next lesson. They both have said they want to be singers and one of them is in the talent show coming up soon where she’s singing with a friend.
Here are my questions for you guys: - What suggestions do you have? - I’ve been told I should try to use this time to teach solfège but how do I do that? In college we used scale degrees so when I got my elementary job I also had to start learning solfège. What do I do to teach it? I just sing the solfège with the signs and have them copy me or what? I feel so lost with solfège. - how do you personally teach kids how to sing? Whether it’s as a class or singing lessons? - what kind of homework would you give? The student who asked for homework is the one who already knows how to read music and play some piano - any other tips or ideas pls? Book recommendations? Anything?
Thank you❤️
submitted by Shaebaeflute to MusicEd [link] [comments]
Does anyone have any suggestions on how to teach singing lessons? We have only met up once and we talked about singing posture while standing up, how to breathe/where you should feel your breathing, and we did some tongue twisters. I also asked what they both want to get from our time working together and they told me these things: - practice singing more songs - how to be less scared performing in front of others - how to act in front of audience - learn how to read notes (just one, the other already knows) - want to also learn how to play more instruments
One of them has also asked me if I can give her some homework to do over the week until the next lesson. They both have said they want to be singers and one of them is in the talent show coming up soon where she’s singing with a friend.
Here are my questions for you guys: - What suggestions do you have? - I’ve been told I should try to use this time to teach solfège but how do I do that? In college we used scale degrees so when I got my elementary job I also had to start learning solfège. What do I do to teach it? I just sing the solfège with the signs and have them copy me or what? I feel so lost with solfège. - how do you personally teach kids how to sing? Whether it’s as a class or singing lessons? - what kind of homework would you give? The student who asked for homework is the one who already knows how to read music and play some piano - any other tips or ideas pls? Book recommendations? Anything?
Thank you❤️
2024.05.19 20:41 MobileLatter9815 I (23F) have a boyfriend (24M) for almost 1 and a half years, found him hiding his chats to other girls and after confrontation things went downhill, how do i exit this relationship now if needed?
I (23F) have a boyfriend (24M) for almost 1 and a half years. He is my first relationship (a bit late since I never explicitly wanted to be in a relationship before because I thought I could work more on myself) while I'm his second. He had a messy relationship before and used to vent to me, I acknowledged him as my other brother (typical in Korean culture) and genuinely saw him that way, so I tried to be neutral and gave really basic advice because I didn't want to be any part of this and more because I was hearing things from his side and I didn't know the girl and she could be right too.
Fast forward to a few months, they keep getting together and breaking up and finally, they do it for real and he has a crush on another girl. He went out with her once, like lunch or something and she told him she has a situationship with someone else but they remained friends.
Later that year we had a group trip among our friends and we grew close and kinda caught feelings. He seemed passionate about me and expressed that he loved me already (too soon if I'm honest), I really enjoyed having him as my best friend and didn't mind dating him and in fact I reciprocated his feelings and we started dating.
With time he started being weird like when we are at class (we attend the same uni) and we are talking and someone calls me, and I look to reply to them and answer their question and return back to our conversation, he gets mad at me and refuses to talk to me like I did something bad. It was a big red flag and I tried to explain how that was really awful and when I tried to mildly get back at him like when he's not listening to me, I'd jokingly say don't talk to me you always do the same when I don't listen and he'd never even entertain me and would get mad. And me explaining how we shouldn't just be fighting over stupid things is just a waste of time, he'd never try to even understand.
Eventually, he gets it and stops doing it. With time I felt really unloved in the relationship as he rarely complimented me or said that he loved me and I had to initiate it, in fact, he stopped replying to them with a love you too or you're cute or something in general. In fact, my man here previously told me how he feels uncomfortable having female friends, so I never had any fear or even thought of him talking to other girls. Having friends who are girls is fine, but hiding that is weird. Plus whenever we joked about exes or people who liked us, he always used to say that he doesn't even talk with that girl.
So here are those instances:
When I'm on my phone beside him he jokingly presses on buttons and also views different chats especially if it's with a guy and jokes about sending something stupid. Now I never even thought of doing that to someone but he once left me with his phone and I was gonna do something like that and while finding a chat I clicked on one accidentally. It was the same girl he had a crush on before, and he is still talking to her, sadly he has been sending the same jokes and messages to her (nothing romantic explicitly) but everything is like any joke he told me, he told her and also was that he met her. My man always told me everything about his day but hid this which was like why do you tell me everything except this, meaning you want to hide it? I never even asked him about his day in detail like that. I tried to be rational and tried not to react as he never handled me saying anything I didn't like, nicely and I didn't want to fight. I wanted to be sure and this time I saw another girl WHOM I NEVER EVEN KNEW ABOUT. The girl was sick so he even went to the house to give her food and my man doesn't even check twice when I am sick. And he beautifully kept that part out of his narration of his days. I peacefully confronted him about it the first time I saw the texts accidentally. He denied it all and I tried to not have a bigger fight.
Later one day I was called to his place to finish the work that he had due and couldn't do himself, I came to help while he showered and on his laptop, the girl's text kept coming in, they talked about what kind of partners they wanted, they went out for walks many times and all this time he told me that he was sleeping or was out alone, the LIES. I was so mad but I finished the work and we went to print his assignment and later I ended up confronting him. He denied and gaslit me in believing he didn't even do any of that. Plus both the girls and he had profile pictures he drew for himself and them, mind you I don't have one.
I went home and the next I confronted him again and he finally said that she is just a friend and since he lives alone she's the only one who doesn't drink or smoke like him hence he goes on walks with her. He was paranoid from his previous relationship that I would get mad and that's why he didn't tell me. I was like when did I say that and the hiding makes what he's doing wrong like he knows it but still is hiding it. My man also doesn't even consider them friends like bro what are they then?
ANYWAYS, he apologizes and kinda makes me feel bad by saying he won't have any friends at all like I caught you lying???? He says he won't do it anymore and he just hung out with them. I forgive him.
We had small stupid fights about him not talking enough when I saw him texting so nicely with them and all.
Fast forward to almost when we were done with a year, I caught him drawing his previously mentioned crush on class and then got mad I got mad at him for drawing him and also yelled at me like I never even raised my voice. He with his mouth told that he only draws people he loves. And felt valid being mad like you see her story and take a screenshot and start drawing her what??? We fought, and he threatened to break up which he does always like I'm the problem.
Then he apologized and we went back to normal and then we maybe had a few fights in between, it was mostly us being frustrated with work but then last week I saw him always clutch his phone when I'm grabbing something next to it, comically exactly like those unfaithful bf tiktoks lmao. This bothered me a lot like what is it hide, to have no fights, I reassured him that you don't have to hide having friends.
Now some days later we went on a date and he was like distracted once in a while to check his phone or try to check messages but when I looked he was pulling down the notification bar (where he has the message app muted you can't see anything). I was trying to brush it off, but then we decided to head home and I was like let's go to your place, we can watch a movie or something, he said his rent owner doesn't allow anyone because last day his friends caused a ruckus. Valid but his friends have been coming to his place for the past 4 days and when I asked if I wanted to go, even in the daytime, he had something to say. Maybe that is the truth but he adds we can sneak you in, I felt a bit desperate to agree to that so I said no and refused to be dropped by him at my home. He realized I was mad and left me, something I never even do to him but okay, I broke down and started having a mental breakdown and having no one, I decided to call him back to vent, which is something I never do because venting to him or anyone never makes me feel validated.
I know how you can make friends feel heard if not good when they have to let something out and at the moment no one around me does that at the moment which is fine like no one should be giving me therapy or something. Anyway, I was crying and he said he'd listen and not get mad I explained to him that being secretive makes me feel weird and what is to hide leading to a conversation where I asked him to show the texts. He denies which is weird so after a lot of pressing like if you don't show it agree that you're hiding something, he shows it. My man was singing her songs and she was too while he told me he would sleep, at 3 am and is calling her voice cute like it's so hard to get called cute as his girlfriend like wtf. I was like bitch wtf it's over but my low self-esteem ass wanted to fix stuff. I go home and beg him to talk and after lots of begging we talk, he first invalidates me then I break down and admit that he is wrong. This somehow leads to him having a full-blown mental breakdown of crying and throwing up and I feel bad.
Things got better then and we were normal, we'd move away after a while so really wanted to hang out at his place but he never said it himself anymore which he used to do it all the time before. This makes me sad, anyways he keeps making me feel bad saying always blame him, LIKE YOU DID THOSE THINGS TF? I was tired of that, and he started a fight saying I always blame him when I just said that I have been wanting to come to his place and you don't tell me to come by yourself, it always you can if you want to, you will have to sneak in. Liken it always felt like it was all from my side so although I tried to understand him, I told him again that I wanna hang out at his place like the desperate idiot I am, and after his same reply, I said it feels like you don't want it and he said I'm again blaming him. This was still funny banter until he started yelling again. Like just refused to listen like I did something.
So here is where I stand now. I am someone who tries to maintain a healthy relationship and can leave when things go bad but since my
My self-esteem is so low I end up staying with him. He isn't a good boyfriend I know it, but maybe I'm too stupid and this is what I deserve. He is way cool and prettier and seems to be beyond my league sometimes and the girls he talks to are so much prettier but I just can't. I keep forgiving him and it's so stupid. I don't know what to do or how to start to leave. What should be the exit plan if needed? And the reason why I wrote this, many times I just feel like, I am the asshole.
submitted by MobileLatter9815 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
Fast forward to a few months, they keep getting together and breaking up and finally, they do it for real and he has a crush on another girl. He went out with her once, like lunch or something and she told him she has a situationship with someone else but they remained friends.
Later that year we had a group trip among our friends and we grew close and kinda caught feelings. He seemed passionate about me and expressed that he loved me already (too soon if I'm honest), I really enjoyed having him as my best friend and didn't mind dating him and in fact I reciprocated his feelings and we started dating.
With time he started being weird like when we are at class (we attend the same uni) and we are talking and someone calls me, and I look to reply to them and answer their question and return back to our conversation, he gets mad at me and refuses to talk to me like I did something bad. It was a big red flag and I tried to explain how that was really awful and when I tried to mildly get back at him like when he's not listening to me, I'd jokingly say don't talk to me you always do the same when I don't listen and he'd never even entertain me and would get mad. And me explaining how we shouldn't just be fighting over stupid things is just a waste of time, he'd never try to even understand.
Eventually, he gets it and stops doing it. With time I felt really unloved in the relationship as he rarely complimented me or said that he loved me and I had to initiate it, in fact, he stopped replying to them with a love you too or you're cute or something in general. In fact, my man here previously told me how he feels uncomfortable having female friends, so I never had any fear or even thought of him talking to other girls. Having friends who are girls is fine, but hiding that is weird. Plus whenever we joked about exes or people who liked us, he always used to say that he doesn't even talk with that girl.
So here are those instances:
When I'm on my phone beside him he jokingly presses on buttons and also views different chats especially if it's with a guy and jokes about sending something stupid. Now I never even thought of doing that to someone but he once left me with his phone and I was gonna do something like that and while finding a chat I clicked on one accidentally. It was the same girl he had a crush on before, and he is still talking to her, sadly he has been sending the same jokes and messages to her (nothing romantic explicitly) but everything is like any joke he told me, he told her and also was that he met her. My man always told me everything about his day but hid this which was like why do you tell me everything except this, meaning you want to hide it? I never even asked him about his day in detail like that. I tried to be rational and tried not to react as he never handled me saying anything I didn't like, nicely and I didn't want to fight. I wanted to be sure and this time I saw another girl WHOM I NEVER EVEN KNEW ABOUT. The girl was sick so he even went to the house to give her food and my man doesn't even check twice when I am sick. And he beautifully kept that part out of his narration of his days. I peacefully confronted him about it the first time I saw the texts accidentally. He denied it all and I tried to not have a bigger fight.
Later one day I was called to his place to finish the work that he had due and couldn't do himself, I came to help while he showered and on his laptop, the girl's text kept coming in, they talked about what kind of partners they wanted, they went out for walks many times and all this time he told me that he was sleeping or was out alone, the LIES. I was so mad but I finished the work and we went to print his assignment and later I ended up confronting him. He denied and gaslit me in believing he didn't even do any of that. Plus both the girls and he had profile pictures he drew for himself and them, mind you I don't have one.
I went home and the next I confronted him again and he finally said that she is just a friend and since he lives alone she's the only one who doesn't drink or smoke like him hence he goes on walks with her. He was paranoid from his previous relationship that I would get mad and that's why he didn't tell me. I was like when did I say that and the hiding makes what he's doing wrong like he knows it but still is hiding it. My man also doesn't even consider them friends like bro what are they then?
ANYWAYS, he apologizes and kinda makes me feel bad by saying he won't have any friends at all like I caught you lying???? He says he won't do it anymore and he just hung out with them. I forgive him.
We had small stupid fights about him not talking enough when I saw him texting so nicely with them and all.
Fast forward to almost when we were done with a year, I caught him drawing his previously mentioned crush on class and then got mad I got mad at him for drawing him and also yelled at me like I never even raised my voice. He with his mouth told that he only draws people he loves. And felt valid being mad like you see her story and take a screenshot and start drawing her what??? We fought, and he threatened to break up which he does always like I'm the problem.
Then he apologized and we went back to normal and then we maybe had a few fights in between, it was mostly us being frustrated with work but then last week I saw him always clutch his phone when I'm grabbing something next to it, comically exactly like those unfaithful bf tiktoks lmao. This bothered me a lot like what is it hide, to have no fights, I reassured him that you don't have to hide having friends.
Now some days later we went on a date and he was like distracted once in a while to check his phone or try to check messages but when I looked he was pulling down the notification bar (where he has the message app muted you can't see anything). I was trying to brush it off, but then we decided to head home and I was like let's go to your place, we can watch a movie or something, he said his rent owner doesn't allow anyone because last day his friends caused a ruckus. Valid but his friends have been coming to his place for the past 4 days and when I asked if I wanted to go, even in the daytime, he had something to say. Maybe that is the truth but he adds we can sneak you in, I felt a bit desperate to agree to that so I said no and refused to be dropped by him at my home. He realized I was mad and left me, something I never even do to him but okay, I broke down and started having a mental breakdown and having no one, I decided to call him back to vent, which is something I never do because venting to him or anyone never makes me feel validated.
I know how you can make friends feel heard if not good when they have to let something out and at the moment no one around me does that at the moment which is fine like no one should be giving me therapy or something. Anyway, I was crying and he said he'd listen and not get mad I explained to him that being secretive makes me feel weird and what is to hide leading to a conversation where I asked him to show the texts. He denies which is weird so after a lot of pressing like if you don't show it agree that you're hiding something, he shows it. My man was singing her songs and she was too while he told me he would sleep, at 3 am and is calling her voice cute like it's so hard to get called cute as his girlfriend like wtf. I was like bitch wtf it's over but my low self-esteem ass wanted to fix stuff. I go home and beg him to talk and after lots of begging we talk, he first invalidates me then I break down and admit that he is wrong. This somehow leads to him having a full-blown mental breakdown of crying and throwing up and I feel bad.
Things got better then and we were normal, we'd move away after a while so really wanted to hang out at his place but he never said it himself anymore which he used to do it all the time before. This makes me sad, anyways he keeps making me feel bad saying always blame him, LIKE YOU DID THOSE THINGS TF? I was tired of that, and he started a fight saying I always blame him when I just said that I have been wanting to come to his place and you don't tell me to come by yourself, it always you can if you want to, you will have to sneak in. Liken it always felt like it was all from my side so although I tried to understand him, I told him again that I wanna hang out at his place like the desperate idiot I am, and after his same reply, I said it feels like you don't want it and he said I'm again blaming him. This was still funny banter until he started yelling again. Like just refused to listen like I did something.
So here is where I stand now. I am someone who tries to maintain a healthy relationship and can leave when things go bad but since my
My self-esteem is so low I end up staying with him. He isn't a good boyfriend I know it, but maybe I'm too stupid and this is what I deserve. He is way cool and prettier and seems to be beyond my league sometimes and the girls he talks to are so much prettier but I just can't. I keep forgiving him and it's so stupid. I don't know what to do or how to start to leave. What should be the exit plan if needed? And the reason why I wrote this, many times I just feel like, I am the asshole.
2024.05.19 20:40 laughayetteoutloud [US to US] [Sell] [Perfume] Arcana Craves, Astrid, BPAL, Cocoa Pink, Laurel & June, Nui Cobalt, Osmofolia - HOUSE BUNDLES for Astrid, BPAL and Laurel & June!
No minimum purchase amount!
Shipping starts at $5 but may increase based on package weight. I will ship within 3 business days - usually next day!
Spreadsheet with scent descriptions and fill level notes can be found HERE.
I'm also selling extra stainless steel rollerball inserts/tops I ordered too many of from Got Oil Supplies. These fit most (but not all! Please do your research and feel free to ask me as well) 5ml to 30ml bottles. I have 1 pack of 12 remaining. I am asking $0.38 for each individual insert or $4.49 for a whole pack of 12. I know the prices are funny but I’m just trying to recoup my costs.
HOUSE BUNDLES: Take all Astrid scents for $10, all BPAL scents for $16, and/or all Laurel & June scents for $9!
FULL SIZE:
submitted by laughayetteoutloud to IndieExchange [link] [comments]
Shipping starts at $5 but may increase based on package weight. I will ship within 3 business days - usually next day!
Spreadsheet with scent descriptions and fill level notes can be found HERE.
I'm also selling extra stainless steel rollerball inserts/tops I ordered too many of from Got Oil Supplies. These fit most (but not all! Please do your research and feel free to ask me as well) 5ml to 30ml bottles. I have 1 pack of 12 remaining. I am asking $0.38 for each individual insert or $4.49 for a whole pack of 12. I know the prices are funny but I’m just trying to recoup my costs.
HOUSE BUNDLES: Take all Astrid scents for $10, all BPAL scents for $16, and/or all Laurel & June scents for $9!
FULL SIZE:
- Osmofolia - A Beaver With a Bone to Pick ($20)
- Arcana Craves - Brown Bread Layering Note ($4)
- Astrid (Take all for 10!) - Corsica ($3), Glistening Snowflakes ($3), Hobgoblin ($3), Little Luxuries ($3)
- BPAL (Take all for $16!) - Fighter (RPG Series) ($4), Limitations ($5), Nevertheless She Persisted ($5), Sloth ($4)
- Cocoa Pink - A Walk in the Garden ($5)
- Laurel & June (Take all for $9!) - Diamond ($3.50), NYE #3 to feel love ($3.50), Topaz ($3.50)
- Nui Cobalt - Mad Scientist ($2)
2024.05.19 20:38 keldondonovan Seeking (healthy) food texture!
Forgive me in advance, I am long-winded. I will do my best to format in a manner that makes it easy to skip information that does not interest you, and put a tl;dr at the end, as well as a neurotypical mansplanation for those who find this post and have no idea what I am talking about.
About Me - Hi there, my name is Daniel, and I am a late catch autistic with OCD, ASD, ADHD, and CPTSD! If that isn't enough letters for you, I also write books, and those are mainly built out of letters. I'm happily married to a wonderful lady, have two kids (20m and 4f) and a cat named Elbow Cardigan Lehman the third. I enjoy nerd things like D&D, MTG, NWN, and RPGs in general (gah! More letters!) I have a bit of a problem with oversharing, so I'll leave it at that for now, but if you have questions, feel free to ask. My life, as they say, is an open book.
Texture Sought - I haven't seen them in ages, and am not sure if they even still exist. It doesn't help that I don't know the name of them. They were these little rectangular wafers, they typically came in packages of... maybe 40 of them? They were typically separated into three "flavors" (they didn't really taste different) of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. They were sorted by color, the white, the pink, and the brown. The closest I have been able to find recently is Reese's sticks, though the chocolate coating kind of ruins it a little. This is the crunch I need.
Specific modifiers - As far as I know, the previous ones were just sugar. I am trying to find a healthy alternative. Please understand, the flavor matters very little. It doesn't matter to me what it tastes like, so long as it is healthy (or at least healthier than sugar wafers), and has the proper crunch.
Things that aren't it, that have been recommended in the past - Ice, Carrot sticks, baby carrots, Pringles, chips, celery. The closest of these is probably Pringles, but it still isn't close enough.
TL;DR - Need healthy food that has the same texture as a Reese's stick minus the chocolate coating.
Neurotypical Mansplanation - have you ever heard (or felt) someone describe how they won't eat oysters because it feels like eating a lougie? Or they won't eat Swiss cheese because of the concept of a mouse eating the holes in it, or mushrooms because it's a fungus, etc? This is somewhat like that, only the opposite. It is difficult to describe, but the flavor is almost entirely irrelevant. Biting down on these wafers feels like seeing the screen saver hit the corner just right, or flipping a coin and having it land on its side. It is proof that magic is real. And I would very much like a way to consume this particular crunch without getting diabetes from eating 2 packs of reeses sticks per day.
Assorted gratitude and customary apologies for my existence - if you have read everything so far, thanks! I'm sorry I couldn't find a more concise way to explain what I'm looking for, but I'm hoping the excess information helps find just the right thing.
Semi-related idea for inventors to get rich - silicone ice trays that are specifically shaped so that, when they form the ice cubes, each cube mimics the crunch of a real life food (which would be used to label the ice trays so people can buy just the texture they want). Many with ASD struggle to get their water intake, and this could really help with that, while also providing a calorie free crunch of their preferred variety whenever they want. It should be noted that, if you take this idea and run with it, you have my blessing on two conditions. 1.) I get a wafer tray whenever it becomes affordable for you to send me one. 2.) Should this make you crazy rich (by your own definition), maybe toss a tip my way and pay off my debt or something. I don't need a yacht or a jet or anything, I'm a simple guy with simple tastes.
submitted by keldondonovan to autism [link] [comments]
About Me - Hi there, my name is Daniel, and I am a late catch autistic with OCD, ASD, ADHD, and CPTSD! If that isn't enough letters for you, I also write books, and those are mainly built out of letters. I'm happily married to a wonderful lady, have two kids (20m and 4f) and a cat named Elbow Cardigan Lehman the third. I enjoy nerd things like D&D, MTG, NWN, and RPGs in general (gah! More letters!) I have a bit of a problem with oversharing, so I'll leave it at that for now, but if you have questions, feel free to ask. My life, as they say, is an open book.
Texture Sought - I haven't seen them in ages, and am not sure if they even still exist. It doesn't help that I don't know the name of them. They were these little rectangular wafers, they typically came in packages of... maybe 40 of them? They were typically separated into three "flavors" (they didn't really taste different) of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. They were sorted by color, the white, the pink, and the brown. The closest I have been able to find recently is Reese's sticks, though the chocolate coating kind of ruins it a little. This is the crunch I need.
Specific modifiers - As far as I know, the previous ones were just sugar. I am trying to find a healthy alternative. Please understand, the flavor matters very little. It doesn't matter to me what it tastes like, so long as it is healthy (or at least healthier than sugar wafers), and has the proper crunch.
Things that aren't it, that have been recommended in the past - Ice, Carrot sticks, baby carrots, Pringles, chips, celery. The closest of these is probably Pringles, but it still isn't close enough.
TL;DR - Need healthy food that has the same texture as a Reese's stick minus the chocolate coating.
Neurotypical Mansplanation - have you ever heard (or felt) someone describe how they won't eat oysters because it feels like eating a lougie? Or they won't eat Swiss cheese because of the concept of a mouse eating the holes in it, or mushrooms because it's a fungus, etc? This is somewhat like that, only the opposite. It is difficult to describe, but the flavor is almost entirely irrelevant. Biting down on these wafers feels like seeing the screen saver hit the corner just right, or flipping a coin and having it land on its side. It is proof that magic is real. And I would very much like a way to consume this particular crunch without getting diabetes from eating 2 packs of reeses sticks per day.
Assorted gratitude and customary apologies for my existence - if you have read everything so far, thanks! I'm sorry I couldn't find a more concise way to explain what I'm looking for, but I'm hoping the excess information helps find just the right thing.
Semi-related idea for inventors to get rich - silicone ice trays that are specifically shaped so that, when they form the ice cubes, each cube mimics the crunch of a real life food (which would be used to label the ice trays so people can buy just the texture they want). Many with ASD struggle to get their water intake, and this could really help with that, while also providing a calorie free crunch of their preferred variety whenever they want. It should be noted that, if you take this idea and run with it, you have my blessing on two conditions. 1.) I get a wafer tray whenever it becomes affordable for you to send me one. 2.) Should this make you crazy rich (by your own definition), maybe toss a tip my way and pay off my debt or something. I don't need a yacht or a jet or anything, I'm a simple guy with simple tastes.
2024.05.19 20:37 Shiirooo Exclusive interview with Famitsu and the devs
 | https://www.famitsu.com/article/202405/5194 (translated by DeepL: there are probably translation errors) submitted by Shiirooo to assassinscreed [link] [comments] Shadows is the next step forward for Assassin's CreedMr. KARL ONNÉE, Producer--First of all, let me say "Thank you" from us Japanese, as "Assassin's Creed" is finally coming out, which is set in Japan! KARL: Thank you for coming here today. I have been wanting to do this work for years, so my dream has come true. --Why did you choose the Azuchi-Momoyama period as the setting for this work? KARL: I chose it because it is a very rich period in history. It was a time of war and political maneuvering, a time of change from rural to urban areas, and also the birth of art. I also chose it because it was the start of the unification of Japan. It was a pivotal moment for Japan. Together, these elements provided an excellent canvas on which to tell the story. --What kind of image do you have of the Azuchi-Momoyama period? KARL: This was a time when the feudal lords of the warring states were fighting for power in the name of unifying the country, but it was also a struggle for control of trade. Portuguese missionaries and merchants came to Japan together. The Portuguese missionaries and merchants came to Japan together, and people who wanted a beautiful country and peace. This is the kind of image we have, but I think there was a mixture of various cultures and people's thoughts. And of course, there were the warring feudal lords. These are great canvases for the story. --What do you think should be inherited from "Assassin's Creed" and what are the unique aspects of this game? KARL: When people think of "Assassin's Creed," they think of stealth, but shinobi fantasy is not only a perfect fit for an "Assassin's Creed" game, it also fits the DNA of the "Assassin" brand. What we wanted to do with "Assassin's Creed Shadows" was to push stealth even further. We started this effort with the previous game, "Assassin's Creed Mirage," but we wanted to take it further with new features. Systems such as light and shadow, grappling ropes, belly crawling, and a variety of tools available in the game provide a new experience. The gameplay is also enriched by two characters, Naoe, a shinobi, and Yasuke, a samurai. Players will explore and discover Japan through the eyes of Naoe, a local, and one non-Japanese outsider. The game is more dynamic than ever before, pushing the limits of technology and offering an experience exclusive to the first state-of-the-art consoles. The gameplay is also enriched by two characters, Naoe, a shinobi, and Yasuke, a samurai. Players will explore and discover Japan through the eyes of Naoe, a local, and one non-Japanese outsider. The game is more dynamic than ever before, pushing the limits of technology and offering an experience exclusive to the first state-of-the-art consoles. --The "Assassin's Creed: Valhalla," released in 2020, is based on the theme of "Vikings" and has been a huge sales success. As a Japanese, I feel that from a global perspective, the Japanese "shinobi" theme is even more niche, but what is your current response? KARL: I would like to talk about how it compares to "Viking" fantasy. Both shinobi and samurai are exciting and celebrated as fantasy with power, and are widely discussed in pop culture, and we are very much inspired by them. Shinobi were on our radar from the beginning because we thought they fit well with the "Assassins" brand, but we felt that incorporating a powerful samurai would create two different gameplay experiences and give us the opportunity to tell the story from two different perspectives. We feel that this is a powerful motif that can compete with the "Viking" motif. --How did you like the setting of Japan as a subject matter for the latest model? KARL: I think it was perfect. For example, the "Global Illumination" technology allowed us to explore the response of light and shadow. Some consoles are still called "Baked GI", but by using dynamic lighting and the power of the new hardware, we were able to explore the creativity. We are now able to express not only light and shadow, but also the dynamism of nature in greater detail. Naturally, since it is set in Japan, we have never dealt with so many trees, and thus so much data, in previous works in the series. We also needed more data to seamlessly move various things at the same time because of the seasonal changes. The latest models have allowed us to realize our vision, and our ambition for this film and for "Assassin's Creed" will continue. --Assassin's Creed Mirage marks the 15th anniversary of the game. Can we consider this work as the next step forward for the next generation of "Assassin's Creed"? KARL: You are absolutely right. Mirage" was a tribute to existing works, but this film is the first step into a new era. We are in the era of modern equipment. With the new generation of our engine "Anvil", plus the opportunity to create a new era by using the power of the latest consoles, we are able to do what we wanted to do with "Assassin's Creed Shadows". With technologies such as global illumination and dynamism, we are now making the game we really wanted to make. --What are the four pillars you are focusing on in the development of this game? KARL: We are focusing on four pillars.
KARL: Development is going very well. We are proud to say that we have done a good job, but of course it is not finished and there are still glitches. This is the result of all the work we have done so far. We are very happy with how things are going right now, and we hope you will stay tuned for more news. -- I understand that "Assassin's Creed Infinity" was announced at the previous Ubisoft Forward and that this title will be included in the game? Also, what is the development status of that game at ......? KARL: "Assassin's Creed Infinity" is introduced as an Animus Hub (*a hub that will function in the future as an entry point for the series), which we will talk about at a later date. --What is your message to your fans around the world and in Japan? KARL: We are humbled that our dream of creating a game in this setting has come true. This is a setting that our fans have been anticipating for a long time, and for us it has been a wonderful experience to work on a game that we have always wanted to make. This game is the result of our love. We hope you enjoy it. We look forward to talking more about it in the coming months. The Shinobi Assassin and the Legendary Samurai. Experience the different fighting styles created by these two characters.(left) Mr. JONATHAN DUMONT (Creative Director), (right) Mr. CHARLES BENOIT (Game Director)--When did you start the development of this work? JONATHAN: Development began about four years ago, and research into the time period in which the film is set began immediately. There were a number of cool subjects that brought us great characters and story plots. I had a gut feeling that this was going to be a very good game. --Was the Azuchi-Momoyama period chosen as the period setting from the pre-development stage? Did you have an idea for a major point in Japanese history, such as the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate? JONATHAN: I started from the beginning of my study of Japanese history, but I began reading with the feeling of a student. Following the Socratic principle, you took the attitude of knowing nothing. As I read on, I found some very interesting settings. I focused on the Azuchi-Momoyama period because I felt it was an extremely important period for Japan. It was a time of warring states, the need to unify the country, and the need to defend itself against the growing influence of other countries. It was a grand and complex period, and there are many stories that can be told from different angles. Among the heroes of the unification of Japan, Tokugawa Ieyasu, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Oda Nobunaga are best known among the outstanding characters in Japanese history. Not only war, but also politics are involved, and they are moving toward the peace that will eventually come, with a good ending waiting somewhere in the middle. I strongly felt that this was a wonderful and interesting period that deserved to be featured. It was also a time when the foundations of the arts were laid. Castle towns were built, the world changed, and people's relationships with each other and with art, as well as their inner lives, also changed. It was very interesting to explore this period, and I was strongly attracted to the characters who lived in this time. -- Why did you choose the title "Shadows"? CHARLES: From my point of view, there are two reasons. Shinobi hide in the shadows, so "Shadows" is of course inspired by that. In a way, this embraces the "Assassin" brand and shinobi. There are other aspects to "Shadows" as well. There are "hidden things" in the game that must be discovered by the player, but they are hidden in the darkness in some way. JONATHAN: Both characters are in a way connected to being shadowy heroes living in the underworld of this era. It's a cool title, if you can think of it this way. --Why did you choose two main characters and two fighting styles? Also, what kind of combat action can the Shinobi and Samurai experience respectively? JONATHAN: One of the reasons for the separation of the two styles is that from the beginning of development, we wanted to have two distinct and cool archetypes to play with: the samurai and the shinobi. We also wanted to make sure that this fantasy was as close to reality and expectation as possible without being diluted. I also often felt the need to have two points of view in the development of the story, since history is rarely clearly black and white. The two protagonists provided interesting dynamics and perspectives on how to approach the game. CHARLES: I think it is very interesting that in combat, both the samurai and the shinobi have special types of weapons. Therefore, the style of combat in this work is built on a more weapon-based approach. There are weapons that only Samurai can use, and the same goes for Shinobi. The player can get a good feel for the two different fighting styles. And it is possible to switch between them. --What weapons can Naoe and Yasuke use? CHARLES: Both players have different types of weapons. For Naoe, we went for a more classic fantasy type shinobi. The chain scythe is a weapon that covers a wide area and can only be used by Naoe. In addition, she also has a dagger used at close range, which can be combined with a hidden blade (Hidden Blade). Naoe can fight very quickly and efficiently with these. On the other hand, Yasuke, who excels at overpowering with force, is given more types of weapons, some of which are firearms type weapons. They also have the typical samurai bow. --Why did you choose to make the shinobi Naoe an original character and the samurai Yasuke a historical figure? JONATHAN Even though they are well known in Japan, at least in North America, not much is known about farmers, what happened to them, and where the Shinobi came from. So we decided to introduce a figure from Iga who is shrouded in mystery. We considered historical figures from the region, but we preferred a sense of mystery, so we came up with Naoe as someone who may or may not have actually existed. As for Yasuke, from the beginning we thought that a story about the arrival of the Portuguese would be a very good way to tell the story of the crisis in Japan. The team liked the character Yasuke, and we thought we could use him to show the promise of discovering Japan. We thought that if we started with a samurai already in Japanese society, he would be a very interesting and intriguing character, with concepts that we don't necessarily know. And it would also be interesting to see what happened to him. He starts out as a character who is already rooted in history, and we are curious to find out what happens to him. I thought they would make a cool team, complementing each other in terms of storytelling, physique, and family background. --What did you keep in mind when creating the scenario where the two main characters switch? What were some of the challenges? JONATHAN: I wanted the audience to feel that "both are the main characters," but this was more complicated than it seems. Their stories overlap in places, but I wanted to make sure that as the game progresses, you gradually discover more and more about both characters. They have similar goals and motivations, but they are not 100% the same, which made it complicated and difficult to maintain their individual personalities. Naturally, the quest can be played by either character. If a quest needs to be started by one character and completed by the other, the settings must accommodate both play styles. Thus, although it can be complicated, there are many opportunities to tell the story from one of the two perspectives. Having two different points of view is a lot of fun, but there were some complications, such as having to use new technology in the conversation tools. There were some cool things, however. It is interesting that in the conversational scenes, the player decides which of the two protagonists speaks and they ask for different things. This is cool in a way. CHARLES: Both characters are attacking the castle and at some point the player is asked if they want to continue with Yasuke or Naoe, both are interesting. At various points the player must make these choices. The stories are independent, so if you want to know more about Naoe's or Yasuke's past, you can play as one character and delve into that character's story. --Are there areas of action that differ, such as places that only Naoe, a shinobi, is allowed to enter? JONATHAN: There are areas where both Naoe and Yasuke have different areas of activity. I can't go into details because there are a few surprises, but since Naoe can use a hooked rope, there are places that are almost exclusively accessible to her. The world is designed to be enjoyed by both characters, and players can switch between the two at will. Of course, if you want to reach the final point of the world or reach the summit through the ruins, then perhaps Naoe is the better choice. However, if you want to break through the fort head-on alone and open the way, Yasuke seems like a better choice. Of course, you can play with either character. CHARLES: Each character also has specific actions. Naoe can hook the hooked rope to a specific spot and move like a pendulum, or hook the hook to a high spot and climb the rope to get to where she wants to go faster than Yasuke. However, Yasuke can use a shoulder bash to break down reinforced doors. Yasuke can also perform parkour very efficiently in a more daring way. What can be felt when Yasuke performs parkour is how the crowd reacts. Because Yasuke is a samurai and exudes dignity as a superior class, the crowd reacts accordingly. Naoe, on the other hand, gives the impression of being more integrated into the world. --Can you both use the Hidden Blade, Hawk's Eye, and other Assassin abilities? CHARLES: Without spoiling anything, the traditional skills of the Assassins are mainly for Naoe. However, there is another mechanism called "Kantori" (tentative name) that can be used when you want to find an enemy or target person, and this can be used by both of them. You can use free aim to look around, but you cannot see through walls. Yasuke can also be killed by stealth, but in a more direct and easier way. Even with stealth, there will be some sound, so it is a "stealth-like" approach. JONATHAN: Kantori (tentative name) can be used to find many things in your current location. It is a very good guide for a certain area, but it does not take all the fun out of exploration. It is a good guide because you can learn a little more about where you want to go, but you are left with the surprise of discovering something. -- Is there a skill tree that makes Naoe more combat-oriented or enhances Yasuke's stealth? CHARLES: Both have skills that are more combat-oriented and stealth-oriented. Also, some equipment has effects such as increased resistance when attacked. We also offer perks that enhance your abilities in combat. Naoe, enhanced to be more combat-oriented, has an advantage in melee combat compared to Naoe, enhanced to be more stealth-oriented. Both have a range, but cannot go in completely opposite directions. There is some overlap between the two, but we have made sure that the characteristics of each ability are properly felt. --Please explain the skill system. JONATHAN: Both characters share XP and level up together, but the rest of the system is a bit similar to that of "Assassin's Creed Odyssey". XP and character abilities are available, weapons can be crafted to some degree, and various upgrades can be made as the game progresses. Weapons are not stand-alone, but for two, so each weapon has its own unique skill system. Players should not feel any discomfort, but this is a very different part of the game from the past. CHARLES: There are two things that were very important to us in terms of skills. First, we have to be very aware of archetypes. In Japan, there are distinct archetypes, such as the armor-clad samurai, the revolting monk, and the bandit, which are quite different. We try to make it clear to the player who is stronger, and we try to make that part of the leveling process as important as possible. Samurai are always stronger than bandits. Secondly, player skill is added to the mix. The better you are at timing, reading attacks, understanding weapons, etc., the better you will be and the further ahead you will be. --What is the volume of the map compared to past works? I would also like to know how you decided on the scale of this work. JONATHAN: The biggest difference is the scale ratio. The mountains are not the actual size, but we wanted them to be true forests, consisting of trees of a certain size, so that you feel you are in a forest. To achieve this, we needed space. We also decided to keep it close to a realistic scale, so we could feel the breath of many things. When we visited Japan and saw the castle, we were so glad we made this decision. Japanese castles are huge! Of course, we had seen pictures of castles before and thought they were big and magnificent, but when we saw them in person, they were astonishingly large. And I wanted more space to explore the castle. Castles were built to be large battlegrounds, you know. You need space to build intricate walls for defense. The overall scale of the map is similar to the size of the map in Origins. However, the scale ratio makes it feel more realistic. The open space leads to secluded areas throughout the game, which will be fun to explore. This sense of scale is a very interesting aspect of this film for us. CHARLES: The story led us to choose which locations in Japan we would choose. The major events in Kyoto, around Osaka, and around Azuchi Castle took place in the same area, so we were able to focus on that. JONATHAN: Of course, we had to choose a size that matched the game, but I think it was the perfect size for this story and type of game. --Since the game is set in the Warring States period, is there a system that allows players to participate in battles? JONATHAN: We see several battles in the story, and the battle at Iga is playable. There are other battles as well, but I can't talk about them right now. The game is set in the Warring States period, but it is not only about battles. It is a game that allows you to travel and discover that world. --What challenges have you faced and what have you been able to achieve as a result? JONATHAN: By making the big decision to go completely modern and demanding a very high level from the "Anvil" engine, we were able to increase the number of particles, create a more realistic atmosphere, and expand the graphical possibilities of the changing seasons. This allowed us to work on a fresh new Assassin's Creed. This was a great opportunity for us to take a big leap forward in graphics. CHARLES: Also, thanks to the new global illumination system, we were able to take advantage of light and shadow, which had a huge impact on the gameplay and stealth approach. For example, enemies became aware of our presence through our shadows, enemies gathered for warmth under a fire in the winter, or shadows through shoji screens depicted enemy presence, giving a new dimension to stealth. By having two main characters, it is possible to show a wider range of angles and different perspectives.(left) BROOKE DAVIES, Associate Narrative Director, (right) SACHI SCHMIDT-HORI, Narrative Consultant--Did you choose the Azuchi-Momoyama period as the period setting from the pre-production stage? BROOKE: I joined the project after the choice of period had been made, so the Azuchi-Momoyama period had already been chosen. This period offered so many wonderful opportunities from a narrative perspective. The complexity and duality of the period is well reflected in the characters of Naoe and Yasuke. --What were you aware of and what were the challenges in creating a scenario where the two main characters switch? BROOKE: From a storytelling perspective, I see it more as a wonderful opportunity than a challenge. When I write a story, I try to show rather than tell, and having two characters allows me to show what's going on from a wider range of angles and different perspectives. I hope this will encourage players to want to share their feelings with them. --What do you think are the most important points in bringing original characters and historical figures into the game? BROOKE: Both offer different and unique opportunities. With regard to Yasuke, I found him very interesting historically because we know some things about him, but there are many unknowns. So we needed to fill in the blanks in the story. It is important to note that Yasuke is a historical figure. And in the case of Naoe, an original character, we were able to draw the story freely to some extent. The fact that she is a member of the Fujibayashi family and that her father is Masayasu Fujibayashi Nagato Mamoru allowed us to place her firmly within the setting. Because Yasuke is a real person but appears as a foreign-born samurai, the Japanese-born Naoe is on equal footing with Yasuke, although she has a different perspective. --Will other historical figures appear besides Nobunaga Oda and Yasuke? BROOKE: You will meet Luis Frois (a Jesuit missionary) at the meeting in Azuchi Castle. Also, Nene and Oichi will appear. The Japanese art renaissance that began in the Azuchi-Momoyama period blossomed in the Edo period, and you will also meet Sen no Rikyu, Kano Eitoku, and other important figures. --Please tell us what year the story will be depicted. BROOKE: I can't tell you what players will see, but I think it covers a part of the Azuchi-Momoyama period, from 1579 to 1584. --I think the appeal of the series is to depict the struggle between the Assassin Order and the Templars while taking into account the history, but I would like to ask if there were any difficulties in putting the Azuchi-Momoyama period into it. BROOKE: I don't want to mention the Knights Templar because I don't want to spoil anything, but the fascination and dynamics of this period are very interesting and provided wonderful opportunities for storytelling. --How did you go about creating a world with a realistic feel of the Azuchi-Momoyama period? BROOKE: We were very lucky to work with the Environment Team. The visuals they created for the game provided a great backdrop for the story. The in-world experience added so much to the story. What we see from the stories and characters of this time period is complexity. I also believe that many of the people surrounding the World had their own struggles. It was a very difficult time historically, and we see duality. Nothing is ever clear-cut and black and white. In warfare, two groups face each other and are confronted with different perspectives. But in the midst of it all, there are glimpses of hope for the future as we know it, which will later blossom. --What advice did you actually give? HORI: One scene that left a strong impression on me was the scene where Nobunaga's sister, Oichi, remarries Katsuie Shibata. In the original story we received, it was thought that the two families decided on their own without regard to Oichi's intentions, and Katsuie was portrayed negatively because he was more than 20 years older than Oichi. So I spoke with BROOKE and the team and asked them to change it. Oichi had young children after the death of her husband Nagamasa Asai, so if her remarriage was to Katsuie, a trusted man who had served Nobunaga, she would have married him as a matter of course. When I explained that it was better to portray it in a positive light, it was a new discovery for the BROOKEs, and they were very moved by it. The rewritten version of the episode was very moving. The other scene is the tea ceremony scene featuring Sen no Rikyu. Chanoyu is widely known to be translated as tea ceremony, but experts say it is a mistranslation. After researching the misunderstanding over here, I advised them, as far as I could understand, not to use a teapot or tea leaves, for example. --Even we Japanese have a strong image of "ninja" as a fantasy. Did you encounter any difficulties with the theme of "ninja" in order to achieve a high level of fidelity to the historical reconstruction? HORI: Ninja are certainly a fantasy, so I think it's a good thing that we can express ourselves creatively and without reservation. However, there are also dedicated ninja fans and communities around the world, and I am not sure to what extent they see the ninja as a real existence, or as an entity that existed in history. Therefore, the extent to which ninja are represented in the game depends on the level of tolerance of the avid shinobi fans. I discussed this with the members of the development team. We did not have a specific policy on how much to express, but made decisions on a case-by-case basis. We decided on a case-by-case basis. We would say, "This is an acceptable creative expression," or "This is stereotypical", so let's not do that. --I'm sure there are many references, but which one left a particularly strong impression on you? BROOKE: The first book I looked through was "Nobunaga no Kouki" by Ota Ushiichi (Azuchi-Momoyama period, military commander and military history author). I was impressed by his personal observations as he recounts the details. We can learn a lot of historical facts from reading history books, but this author incorporated his own views so that I felt I could understand even his character and what it was like to live in that era, and I was completely drawn in. I was thrilled to be able to portray this time period and the people in this book. --The drama "Shogun" which is set in a similar time period, has been a hit, and I hope that this work will attract the same kind of attention from game fans. I understand that you have prepared a "Discovery Tour" that allows visitors to freely walk around the game world with historical explanations. BROOKE: I can't answer about the Discovery Tour today, but I am glad to see that interest in the setting and time period of the game is growing. I look forward to the day when we can bring this film to you. Gathering a lot of information to recreate 16th century Japan and build a living world(left) THIERRY DANSEREAU, Art Director, (right) STÉPHANIE-ANNE RUATTA, Historical Supervisor and World Director--Please tell us what kind of materials you used as references to describe the field and the characters' costumes in the Azuchi-Momoyama period. THIERRY: I have been working with experts and consultants for a long time, but for the characters, I referred to museum exhibits and books for their appearances and costumes. I visited several museums, did my research, and checked the materials with STÉPHANIE-ANNE. Based on these, we created the characters. We also referred to descriptions in the books about the colors and the flags people carried. We used multiple sources, but we have checked them for historical accuracy. STÉPHANIE-ANNE: For several years we had the help of experts, but we also did research with a Japanese studio and team. We used different kinds of sources to make sure the team got it right and had all the information they needed to reconstruct what Japan looked like in the 16th century. We used museum databases, as THIERRY mentioned, but we also used inscriptions, scientific books, articles, and medieval depositions. For example, the Principles of Nobunaga has been translated into English, so we used that as a reference to describe 16th century Japan. I also referred to the documents of Luis Frois from the same period, which compare European and Japanese society. --This period was also a time when there was a large influx of immigrants. Will you also depict the episodes, lifestyles, and culture of these people (missionaries, merchants, etc.) as well as Yasuke? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: Yes, it is important to introduce the presence of Portuguese missionaries and merchants in the 16th century. They influenced the course of warfare during this period and the changing power of certain merchants in Japan. --I am wondering what castles, shrines and temples that symbolize the Azuchi-Momoyama period will appear in the game. Although the game is set in the Kansai region, is the Osaka Castle built by Toyotomi Hideyoshi ......? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: The era is represented by the construction of various castles and castle towns, so players will discover a wide variety of castle types and castles destroyed in battle. The Azuchi Castle, which is related to the name of the era, will also be featured. THIERRY: Himeji Castle, Osaka Castle, and Takeda Castle are also available, and it is wonderful that players can visit and play in these castles. I think this is one of the strengths of the franchise, but all of the castles are based on actual historical blueprints, which I think is very unique, both as an experience and a learning opportunity. The Koyasan Okunoin Cemetery is the oldest graveyard in Japan, which can also be seen in the game. There are too many to mention them all, but thanks to STÉPHANIE-ANNE and the experts, I think they are well described and it is wonderful that players will be able to travel to these places. --The architectural style and decoration of the buildings is a different culture from the previous works in the series. What were you conscious of in recreating the culture and what were the challenges? I am also interested in the possibility of diving on the "Shachihoko". STÉPHANIE-ANNE: The building team did a lot of research, and then we checked the results with experts and asked them to add the elements needed to build a great castle. We did research to recreate the decorations of not only the castle, but also the temples and shrines, and also to find out what materials were used to make them. THIERRY: The colors also change over time, so we made adjustments to that as well. Of course, this is "Assassin's Creed," so you can climb anywhere and jump from almost anywhere. Exploring is fun. --Japanese period games tend to be rather subdued, but were there any barriers to making it a worldwide production? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: It's a game based on history, and we want players to have the opportunity to play with history. This period is so fascinating and celebrated, and has had such an impact on pop culture, that we were fortunate to have the help of renowned experts to make sure we had all the information we needed to faithfully recreate medieval Japan in the 16th century. We maintained historical fidelity in this film because it was a rich period with so much to talk about and we didn't feel the need to change it. It is a rich setting, so there is an experience that goes into fantasy, but keeping it authentic was our primary goal. --In the main storyline, can we experience famous episodes from the Azuchi-Momoyama period (such as the Battle of Nagashino, the Honnoji Incident, the Battle of Komaki and Nagakute, etc.)? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: You will have to wait a little longer for that. --In the recent series, "Origins," "Odyssey," and "Valhalla," you can enjoy the connection to mythology and fantasy elements based on mythological themes. Will this work also contain elements based on Japanese mythology, yokai, and other fictional creatures? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: That is a very good question, but I will answer this one later. --This work also reproduces the four seasons of Japan. Which season did you start first? And which seasons were particularly difficult to express? THIERRY: I started with spring. We all know about cherry blossoms, and I think they are the most symbolic Japanese element for foreigners. And the big difference is winter. I wouldn't say that winter is more complicated because it has many different expressions, but it was very different from spring, summer, and fall, and the challenges were also different. --What was particular about the representation of water, such as waterfalls, rivers, lakes, etc.? THIERRY: All of the water topics were very important to us. We knew that there is a Shinto belief in waterfalls and rivers, and that they are important places in the Japanese eco-system. Even the blueprints of the suburbs are lined with irrigation canals, and they even go into the houses. Thus, we knew that water is a key component of Japanese culture, especially for agriculture. This is why we installed drains everywhere in this work. The presence of water in the Japanese landscape was different, so we took it seriously and treated it as an inviolable part of the Japanese landscape and way of life. --What are some of your favorite places, castles, or cultures that appear in your work? STÉPHANIE-ANNE: That's difficult. THIERRY: My favorite is Takeda Castle. It is on top of a high mountain and is called the castle in the sky, and I like this location. I can't say it's fair because we built it ourselves, but there are many other great places to visit. It was a lot of work to create the forest, but I really enjoy looking at the landscape. I also like how all the ecosystems interact with each other, such as the clouds in the weather system. It's not a location, but I enjoy it because it encompasses the whole game. STÉPHANIE-ANNE: I was impressed by the "Rakuchu Rakugaizu," Japanese folding screens from this period. I was fascinated by the fact that just by looking at them, one could come into contact with the vivid world of this period. The artistic touch is something special. I have never seen anything so full of art. I truly admire the artists of this era. THIERRY: I also think the most striking thing for me was the harmony of nature and architecture. I visited the site and found many places, and I could see how everything was deliberately composed. I was told that trees were planted while the chedi was being built at the time, but everything looked perfect. Also, the culture loves the age and values it, so they cherish moss and things that have taken root there. Japan has maintained these places so they still exist and are still in use. I realized that we are dealing with a subject that has a long history. It is also a culture that values space, living space. These were the most exciting discoveries during my travels in Japan. |
2024.05.19 20:33 low_shuga I (31NB) got cheated on by my (34M) partner of five years. I broke up with him instantly, but he won't accept that fact. How do I deal with it?
Okay. First of all, my English is rusty AF, so please be patient with me.
So I (31NB) was in a relationship with my partner Matthew (34M) for the past five years, we've known each other for over seven years. At the very beginning of the relationship it was all cute and fluffy, because he was my first everything. He basically showed me how it should be in a "healthy" relationship. I have severe trauma ( I was graped when I was 12) and I am very autistic - so for my own sanity, I was avoiding every human interaction that wasn't purely friendly. I also suffer from few disorders (especially emotional blockage) and was raised by military officer who never showed any emotions, whatsoever ( this is important). From the start I told him that he wouldn't be happy with me, because I don't know how to show love and affection, I am not in any position to be like his "dream girls" and whatnot. He always told me that he doesn't care about those things, because he "loved me" for who I am. (note: I am a heavy person, who trained heavy sports for nearly 15 years - I am literally disgusting to look at, while he's like a feckin' godsend - fit, handsome like the Devil and all that - he's also very intelligent).
Everything was relatively normal, I was learning how to show affection, I even got past my trauma, so I don't think he could say that he wasn't taken care of, intimacy-wise. He was a typical Golden Retriever or Teddybear if you will. He was cuddly, loved kisses and all that romantic stuff. He was also very into vanilla stuff when it comes to intimacy. I have very good adaptation skills, so learning how to please him, wasn't that big of a deal for me, especially when I knew he was very important to me ( you can say I loved him in my own way or smthn).
Shait went down few months ago, when he got some sort of "change of heart" and started reading those books that are all over booktok ( tiktok shait and all). At fist I was totally cool with it, because it's normal. It's just books. But then he bought himself a Harley, started to wear more black clothes ( it was my thing to wear only black and dark colors) and his whole demeanor started to change. Like from fluffy, cuddly man, he became some sort of douche-bag who was all into "you're mine" " you belong to me" and whatnot. Initially I thought that he was just taking a piss, because he told me that he found those characters hilariously unrealistic, but then he literally did full 180. I even put up with the total 180 when it comes to the bedroom action, because - like I said - I'm fat and I wouldn't do certain stuff, because I hate myself, but I wanted to make him happy.
I was putting with his behavior, because, like I said, he was very important to me. But then his cousin - Max (36M) told me, that Matthew hooked up with some random chick at the club they went to, this past weekend.
When it comes to infidelity, this is a total deal-breaker for me, so I automatically blocked him and his family on my phone and socials. I went literally full NC, because I didn't and still don't see any reason to stay in touch with any of them. He made his choice.
The problem here is the fact that when he came to my apartment, he got some audacity to tell me that I cannot break up with him, because he loves me and he will marry me. I was just standing there, looking at him like the clown that he is and said nothing. One thing about me: When I'm truly enraged, like to the point I have violent urges to hurt someone, I will just stare at someone before exploding (thanks to my father and his "training"). Matthew, apparently forgot about that fact, I have anger issues, just like my dear father. So when he told me - for the god knows how many times - that I'm his and I CANNOT break up with him, he grabbed my arm and tried pulling me to him. That's when I basically lost my shit and just sold him a right hook straight into his jaw. Usually I'm trying to be composed, because violence is never the answer (we all know it's the solution).
How do I deal with his bullshit, because at this point (week have passed) I am tired and all I want to do is just run after him with an axe, just to scare him off. Matthew that approached me few years ago is long gone, and I am not willing to put up with this bullshit anymore, because I don't have mental capacity for this.
Any advice on how to say "fuck off" in a productive way, or should I do something different, because this is just tiring.
** Before someone will come for me - the communication was there all the time, because I am all about talking things out, I need people to be straight forward to my face, because I don't get social ques. And yes - I have already thought about everything that I DID WRONG to him, that pushed him to change that way - but again...I didn't do anything, aside that I maybe wasn't too vocal about my feeling ( I have hard times expressing them, and he was well aware of that).
submitted by low_shuga to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
So I (31NB) was in a relationship with my partner Matthew (34M) for the past five years, we've known each other for over seven years. At the very beginning of the relationship it was all cute and fluffy, because he was my first everything. He basically showed me how it should be in a "healthy" relationship. I have severe trauma ( I was graped when I was 12) and I am very autistic - so for my own sanity, I was avoiding every human interaction that wasn't purely friendly. I also suffer from few disorders (especially emotional blockage) and was raised by military officer who never showed any emotions, whatsoever ( this is important). From the start I told him that he wouldn't be happy with me, because I don't know how to show love and affection, I am not in any position to be like his "dream girls" and whatnot. He always told me that he doesn't care about those things, because he "loved me" for who I am. (note: I am a heavy person, who trained heavy sports for nearly 15 years - I am literally disgusting to look at, while he's like a feckin' godsend - fit, handsome like the Devil and all that - he's also very intelligent).
Everything was relatively normal, I was learning how to show affection, I even got past my trauma, so I don't think he could say that he wasn't taken care of, intimacy-wise. He was a typical Golden Retriever or Teddybear if you will. He was cuddly, loved kisses and all that romantic stuff. He was also very into vanilla stuff when it comes to intimacy. I have very good adaptation skills, so learning how to please him, wasn't that big of a deal for me, especially when I knew he was very important to me ( you can say I loved him in my own way or smthn).
Shait went down few months ago, when he got some sort of "change of heart" and started reading those books that are all over booktok ( tiktok shait and all). At fist I was totally cool with it, because it's normal. It's just books. But then he bought himself a Harley, started to wear more black clothes ( it was my thing to wear only black and dark colors) and his whole demeanor started to change. Like from fluffy, cuddly man, he became some sort of douche-bag who was all into "you're mine" " you belong to me" and whatnot. Initially I thought that he was just taking a piss, because he told me that he found those characters hilariously unrealistic, but then he literally did full 180. I even put up with the total 180 when it comes to the bedroom action, because - like I said - I'm fat and I wouldn't do certain stuff, because I hate myself, but I wanted to make him happy.
I was putting with his behavior, because, like I said, he was very important to me. But then his cousin - Max (36M) told me, that Matthew hooked up with some random chick at the club they went to, this past weekend.
When it comes to infidelity, this is a total deal-breaker for me, so I automatically blocked him and his family on my phone and socials. I went literally full NC, because I didn't and still don't see any reason to stay in touch with any of them. He made his choice.
The problem here is the fact that when he came to my apartment, he got some audacity to tell me that I cannot break up with him, because he loves me and he will marry me. I was just standing there, looking at him like the clown that he is and said nothing. One thing about me: When I'm truly enraged, like to the point I have violent urges to hurt someone, I will just stare at someone before exploding (thanks to my father and his "training"). Matthew, apparently forgot about that fact, I have anger issues, just like my dear father. So when he told me - for the god knows how many times - that I'm his and I CANNOT break up with him, he grabbed my arm and tried pulling me to him. That's when I basically lost my shit and just sold him a right hook straight into his jaw. Usually I'm trying to be composed, because violence is never the answer (we all know it's the solution).
How do I deal with his bullshit, because at this point (week have passed) I am tired and all I want to do is just run after him with an axe, just to scare him off. Matthew that approached me few years ago is long gone, and I am not willing to put up with this bullshit anymore, because I don't have mental capacity for this.
Any advice on how to say "fuck off" in a productive way, or should I do something different, because this is just tiring.
** Before someone will come for me - the communication was there all the time, because I am all about talking things out, I need people to be straight forward to my face, because I don't get social ques. And yes - I have already thought about everything that I DID WRONG to him, that pushed him to change that way - but again...I didn't do anything, aside that I maybe wasn't too vocal about my feeling ( I have hard times expressing them, and he was well aware of that).
2024.05.19 20:31 Ok_ewrsedfgc Where to Watch Back to Black Online Free at Home Legally?
Still Now Here Option’s to Watch or Downloads Back to Black streaming the full movie online for free.
Do you like movies? If so, then you’ll love New Box Office Movie: Back to Black. This movie is one of the best in its genre. #Back to Black will be available to Watch online on Netflix’s very soon!
Where to Watch Back to Black's Online for Free? Looking for an online source to watch the movie Back to Black's for free? Look no further! Here's you can watch Back to Black's 2024 in its entirety for free: visit 123Movis or Reddit, and follow the link there to stream the full movie. Enjoy watching full Back to Black's movie throughout the year - just click the link and enjoy! this comprehensive guide to streaming and downloading movie & series in English.
If you are a Movie fan, you won't want to miss this one! While several avenues exist to view the highly praised film Back to Black sonline streaming offers a versatile means to access its cinematic wonder From heartfelt songs to buoyant humor this genre-bending work explores the power of friendship to uplift communities during troubling times Directed with nuanced color and vivacious animation lighter moments are blended seamlessly with touching introspection Cinephiles and casual fans alike will find their spirits lifted by this inspirational story of diverse characters joining in solidarity Why not spend an evening immersed in the vibrant world of Back to Black s.
Where To Watch Back to Black Online:
As of now, the only way to watch Back to Black is to head out to a movie theater when it releases on Friday, May 3, 2024. You can find a local showing on Fandango. Otherwise, you'll have to wait until it becomes available to rent or purchase on digital platforms like Vudu, Apple, YouTube, and Amazon or available to stream on Max.
How to Watch Back to Black 2024 Movie
Back to Black is still currently in theaters if you want to experience all the film's twists and turns in a traditional cinema. But there's also now an option to watch the film at home. As of December 26, 2024, Back to Black is available on HBO Max. Only those with a subscription to the service can watch the movie. Because the film is distributed by Universal Pictures, it's one of the last films of the year to head to HBO Max due to a streaming deal in lieu of Disney acquiring Universal Pictures, as Variety reports. At the end of 2023, Universal Pictures Studios' films will head to Hulu or Disney+ once they leave theaters.
When Will Back to Black Be Available to Stream Online?
Nope, Back to Black is a cinema exclusive for now. We're sure it will make its way to streaming services and digital platforms in the near future, but it's a scary trip to the multiplex for now. We have yet to determine when Back to Black will be available to stream at home. We know, however, that it will likely be coming to HBO Max. If Back to Black is any indication of what we can expect from the latest film, we could see it getting a digital release just 45 days after it hits theaters. That would probably put the date around late June.
How to Download 'Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire ' Movie for Free?
To Download 'Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire ' for free. you can explore options like YIFY, 1337x and YTS Torrent, YIFY is a movie release group, and also one of the most influential ones. YTS is the abbreviation for YIFY Torrent Solutions and it's specialized in movies. It is one of the most recognizable torrent sites on the Internet. YIFY now uploads good quality prints in 720p, 1080p, 2160p 4K, and 3D quality. Actually their release is a way of taking advantage of the Scene before the release of the DVDs or Blu-ray disks. And then they rip and encode DVDs or Blu-rays to MP4 or MKV videos with the popular Handbrake using X264 as the encoder source codec, for the H.264/MPEG-4 codec. Although the sound quality does degrade very much in this size reduction, what they do is admirable.
Is Back to Black coming to Max (formerly HBO Max)?
Back to Black will be available to watch exclusively in theaters on May 3, 2024, though a HBO Max streaming date may follow this window of exclusivity. Universal Pictures. is distributing Back to Black movie, and it owns the Max (formerly HBO Max) streaming service. It has released a number of movies exclusively on the streaming service, and the Back to Black movie could follow suit.
When Will Back to Black Be Available to Stream Online?
Nope, Back to Black is a cinema exclusive for now. We're sure it will make its way to streaming services and digital platforms in the near future, but it's a scary trip to the multiplex for now. We have yet to determine when Back to Black will be available to stream at home. We know, however, that it will likely be coming to HBO Max. If Back to Black is any indication of what we can expect from the latest film, we could see it getting a digital release just 45 days after it hits theaters. That would probably put the date around late June.
Will Back to Black Be Streaming on Netflix?
No, Back to Black is not on Netflix, and it likely won't be any time soon, seeing as it is going to stream on Max. In the meantime, you'll have to head out to a theater or wait for it to become available on streaming and VOD.
Will Back to Black Be On Disney Plus?
Disney+ subscribers might be disappointed that 'Back to Black' is unavailable for streaming on the platform. Alternatively, quite a few similar options are at your disposal, including 'Enchanted 'and ‘Disenchanted.’
Is Back to Black on Amazon Prime Video?
Back to Black movie could eventually be available to watch on Prime Video, though it will likely be a paid digital release rather than being included with an Amazon Prime subscription. This means that rather than watching the movie as part of an existing subscription fee, you may have to pay money to rent the movie digitally on Amazon. However, Universal Pictures. and Amazon have yet to discuss whether or not this will be the case.
Is Back to Black Available On Hulu?
Viewers say they want to view the new horror movie Back to Black on Hulu. Unfortunately, this is not possible since Hulu currently does not offer any of the free episodes of this series streaming at this time. It will be exclusive to the MTV channel, which you get by subscribing to cable or satellite TV services. You will not be able to watch it on Hulu or any other free streaming service.
When Will 'Back to Black', Be Available on Blu-ray and DVD?
As of right now, we don't know. While the film will eventually land on Blu-ray, DVD, and 4K Ultra HD, Universal Pictures has yet to reveal a specific date as to when that would be. The first Nun film also premiered in theaters in early September and was released on Blu-ray and DVD in December. Our best guess is that the sequel will follow a similar path and will be available around the holiday season.
How to Watch Back to Black Online For Free?
Most Viewed, Most Favorite, Top Rating, Top IMDb movies online. Here, we can download and watch 123movies movies offline. 123Movies website is the best alternative to Back to Black (2024), free online. We will recommend 123Movies as the best Solarmovie alternative. There are a few ways to watch Back to Black online in the U.S. You can use a streaming service such as Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video. You can also rent or buy the movie on iTunes or Google Play. You can also watch it on-demand or a streaming app available on your TV or streaming device if you have cable.
How to Watch 'Back to Black' (2024) Movie Free Online Streaming in France & Spain
To watch 'Back to Black' (2024) for free online streaming in France and Spain, you can explore options like 123movies and Reddit, as mentioned in the search results. However, please note that the legality and safety of using such websites may vary, so exercise caution when accessing them. Additionally, you can check if the movie is available on popular streaming platforms like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video, as they often offer a wide selection of movies and TV.
How To Watch 'Back to Black' (2024) Movie Free Online Streaming in Australia & New Zealand
To watch 'Back to Black' (2024) for free online streaming in Australia & New Zealand, you have several options. According to my search results, the movie is available for streaming on Foxtel (via the Movies Thriller channel), Foxtel Now, BINGE, and Netflix1. These platforms may require a subscription or rental fee, so be sure to check the specific details on each platform. Additionally, it's worth exploring websites like 123movies or Reddit, as they may provide streaming options for free. It's also worth checking if the movie is available on streaming platforms like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video, as they often offer a wide selection of movies and TV shows. Please keep in mind that the availability and legality of free streaming options may change over time, so it's always a good idea to check the most up-to-date information from reliable sources.
Here is a comprehensive guide on how to watch Back to Black sonline in its entirety from the comfort of your own home. You can access thefull movie free of charge on the respected platform known as 123Movies. Immerse yourself in the captivating experience of Back to Black sby watching it online for free. Alternatively, you can also enjoy the movie by downloading it in high definition. Enhance your movie viewing experience by watching Back to Black son 123movies, a trusted source for online movie streaming.
Gosling plays seasoned stunt maestro Colt Seavers, utterly unafraid of any physical challenges, self-effacingly doubling for insufferably conceited star Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), who outrageously claims to do all his own stunts. Colt is having a passionate affair with beautiful, talented camera operator Jody Moreno (Blunt), but when he is involved in a catastrophic and career-ending failed stunt, he is overwhelmed with macho shame, thinking the accident was his fault because his infatuation with Jody made him take his eye off the ball. Colt self-pityingly disappears from view during physical rehab and cuts off all contact with Jody, who is deeply hurt. But then hard-faced producer Gail (Hannah Waddingham) persuades him to come back to work on Jody’s first film as a director, a sci-fi epic starring Ryder as a space cowboy doing an awful sub-Matthew-McConaughey Texas accent. Gail claims that Jody herself wanted him – but she and the unspeakable Ryder have their own wicked plans in mind.
David Leitch started as a stunt double, working with actors like Brad Pitt, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Matt Damon, and many more. His directorial debut was a little film called “John Wick,” and he parlayed that success into films like “Atomic Blonde” and “Bullet Train.” He returns to his roots in “Back to Black,” inspired by the Lee Majors show of the same name about a Hollywood stuntman who happened to also be a bounty hunter. Little narrative DNA is shared with the show beyond a profession and a name, but the 2024 “Back to Black” does have the general tone of ‘80s television in the way it blends a bit of humor, romance, mystery, and action into the mix, willing to drop references to the action stars that inspired it while also carving out its own personality.
submitted by Ok_ewrsedfgc to Lubavitch [link] [comments]
Do you like movies? If so, then you’ll love New Box Office Movie: Back to Black. This movie is one of the best in its genre. #Back to Black will be available to Watch online on Netflix’s very soon!
Where to Watch Back to Black's Online for Free? Looking for an online source to watch the movie Back to Black's for free? Look no further! Here's you can watch Back to Black's 2024 in its entirety for free: visit 123Movis or Reddit, and follow the link there to stream the full movie. Enjoy watching full Back to Black's movie throughout the year - just click the link and enjoy! this comprehensive guide to streaming and downloading movie & series in English.
If you are a Movie fan, you won't want to miss this one! While several avenues exist to view the highly praised film Back to Black sonline streaming offers a versatile means to access its cinematic wonder From heartfelt songs to buoyant humor this genre-bending work explores the power of friendship to uplift communities during troubling times Directed with nuanced color and vivacious animation lighter moments are blended seamlessly with touching introspection Cinephiles and casual fans alike will find their spirits lifted by this inspirational story of diverse characters joining in solidarity Why not spend an evening immersed in the vibrant world of Back to Black s.
Where To Watch Back to Black Online:
As of now, the only way to watch Back to Black is to head out to a movie theater when it releases on Friday, May 3, 2024. You can find a local showing on Fandango. Otherwise, you'll have to wait until it becomes available to rent or purchase on digital platforms like Vudu, Apple, YouTube, and Amazon or available to stream on Max.
How to Watch Back to Black 2024 Movie
Back to Black is still currently in theaters if you want to experience all the film's twists and turns in a traditional cinema. But there's also now an option to watch the film at home. As of December 26, 2024, Back to Black is available on HBO Max. Only those with a subscription to the service can watch the movie. Because the film is distributed by Universal Pictures, it's one of the last films of the year to head to HBO Max due to a streaming deal in lieu of Disney acquiring Universal Pictures, as Variety reports. At the end of 2023, Universal Pictures Studios' films will head to Hulu or Disney+ once they leave theaters.
When Will Back to Black Be Available to Stream Online?
Nope, Back to Black is a cinema exclusive for now. We're sure it will make its way to streaming services and digital platforms in the near future, but it's a scary trip to the multiplex for now. We have yet to determine when Back to Black will be available to stream at home. We know, however, that it will likely be coming to HBO Max. If Back to Black is any indication of what we can expect from the latest film, we could see it getting a digital release just 45 days after it hits theaters. That would probably put the date around late June.
How to Download 'Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire ' Movie for Free?
To Download 'Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire ' for free. you can explore options like YIFY, 1337x and YTS Torrent, YIFY is a movie release group, and also one of the most influential ones. YTS is the abbreviation for YIFY Torrent Solutions and it's specialized in movies. It is one of the most recognizable torrent sites on the Internet. YIFY now uploads good quality prints in 720p, 1080p, 2160p 4K, and 3D quality. Actually their release is a way of taking advantage of the Scene before the release of the DVDs or Blu-ray disks. And then they rip and encode DVDs or Blu-rays to MP4 or MKV videos with the popular Handbrake using X264 as the encoder source codec, for the H.264/MPEG-4 codec. Although the sound quality does degrade very much in this size reduction, what they do is admirable.
Is Back to Black coming to Max (formerly HBO Max)?
Back to Black will be available to watch exclusively in theaters on May 3, 2024, though a HBO Max streaming date may follow this window of exclusivity. Universal Pictures. is distributing Back to Black movie, and it owns the Max (formerly HBO Max) streaming service. It has released a number of movies exclusively on the streaming service, and the Back to Black movie could follow suit.
When Will Back to Black Be Available to Stream Online?
Nope, Back to Black is a cinema exclusive for now. We're sure it will make its way to streaming services and digital platforms in the near future, but it's a scary trip to the multiplex for now. We have yet to determine when Back to Black will be available to stream at home. We know, however, that it will likely be coming to HBO Max. If Back to Black is any indication of what we can expect from the latest film, we could see it getting a digital release just 45 days after it hits theaters. That would probably put the date around late June.
Will Back to Black Be Streaming on Netflix?
No, Back to Black is not on Netflix, and it likely won't be any time soon, seeing as it is going to stream on Max. In the meantime, you'll have to head out to a theater or wait for it to become available on streaming and VOD.
Will Back to Black Be On Disney Plus?
Disney+ subscribers might be disappointed that 'Back to Black' is unavailable for streaming on the platform. Alternatively, quite a few similar options are at your disposal, including 'Enchanted 'and ‘Disenchanted.’
Is Back to Black on Amazon Prime Video?
Back to Black movie could eventually be available to watch on Prime Video, though it will likely be a paid digital release rather than being included with an Amazon Prime subscription. This means that rather than watching the movie as part of an existing subscription fee, you may have to pay money to rent the movie digitally on Amazon. However, Universal Pictures. and Amazon have yet to discuss whether or not this will be the case.
Is Back to Black Available On Hulu?
Viewers say they want to view the new horror movie Back to Black on Hulu. Unfortunately, this is not possible since Hulu currently does not offer any of the free episodes of this series streaming at this time. It will be exclusive to the MTV channel, which you get by subscribing to cable or satellite TV services. You will not be able to watch it on Hulu or any other free streaming service.
When Will 'Back to Black', Be Available on Blu-ray and DVD?
As of right now, we don't know. While the film will eventually land on Blu-ray, DVD, and 4K Ultra HD, Universal Pictures has yet to reveal a specific date as to when that would be. The first Nun film also premiered in theaters in early September and was released on Blu-ray and DVD in December. Our best guess is that the sequel will follow a similar path and will be available around the holiday season.
How to Watch Back to Black Online For Free?
Most Viewed, Most Favorite, Top Rating, Top IMDb movies online. Here, we can download and watch 123movies movies offline. 123Movies website is the best alternative to Back to Black (2024), free online. We will recommend 123Movies as the best Solarmovie alternative. There are a few ways to watch Back to Black online in the U.S. You can use a streaming service such as Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video. You can also rent or buy the movie on iTunes or Google Play. You can also watch it on-demand or a streaming app available on your TV or streaming device if you have cable.
How to Watch 'Back to Black' (2024) Movie Free Online Streaming in France & Spain
To watch 'Back to Black' (2024) for free online streaming in France and Spain, you can explore options like 123movies and Reddit, as mentioned in the search results. However, please note that the legality and safety of using such websites may vary, so exercise caution when accessing them. Additionally, you can check if the movie is available on popular streaming platforms like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video, as they often offer a wide selection of movies and TV.
How To Watch 'Back to Black' (2024) Movie Free Online Streaming in Australia & New Zealand
To watch 'Back to Black' (2024) for free online streaming in Australia & New Zealand, you have several options. According to my search results, the movie is available for streaming on Foxtel (via the Movies Thriller channel), Foxtel Now, BINGE, and Netflix1. These platforms may require a subscription or rental fee, so be sure to check the specific details on each platform. Additionally, it's worth exploring websites like 123movies or Reddit, as they may provide streaming options for free. It's also worth checking if the movie is available on streaming platforms like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video, as they often offer a wide selection of movies and TV shows. Please keep in mind that the availability and legality of free streaming options may change over time, so it's always a good idea to check the most up-to-date information from reliable sources.
Here is a comprehensive guide on how to watch Back to Black sonline in its entirety from the comfort of your own home. You can access thefull movie free of charge on the respected platform known as 123Movies. Immerse yourself in the captivating experience of Back to Black sby watching it online for free. Alternatively, you can also enjoy the movie by downloading it in high definition. Enhance your movie viewing experience by watching Back to Black son 123movies, a trusted source for online movie streaming.
Gosling plays seasoned stunt maestro Colt Seavers, utterly unafraid of any physical challenges, self-effacingly doubling for insufferably conceited star Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), who outrageously claims to do all his own stunts. Colt is having a passionate affair with beautiful, talented camera operator Jody Moreno (Blunt), but when he is involved in a catastrophic and career-ending failed stunt, he is overwhelmed with macho shame, thinking the accident was his fault because his infatuation with Jody made him take his eye off the ball. Colt self-pityingly disappears from view during physical rehab and cuts off all contact with Jody, who is deeply hurt. But then hard-faced producer Gail (Hannah Waddingham) persuades him to come back to work on Jody’s first film as a director, a sci-fi epic starring Ryder as a space cowboy doing an awful sub-Matthew-McConaughey Texas accent. Gail claims that Jody herself wanted him – but she and the unspeakable Ryder have their own wicked plans in mind.
David Leitch started as a stunt double, working with actors like Brad Pitt, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Matt Damon, and many more. His directorial debut was a little film called “John Wick,” and he parlayed that success into films like “Atomic Blonde” and “Bullet Train.” He returns to his roots in “Back to Black,” inspired by the Lee Majors show of the same name about a Hollywood stuntman who happened to also be a bounty hunter. Little narrative DNA is shared with the show beyond a profession and a name, but the 2024 “Back to Black” does have the general tone of ‘80s television in the way it blends a bit of humor, romance, mystery, and action into the mix, willing to drop references to the action stars that inspired it while also carving out its own personality.
2024.05.19 20:27 sunflower99_ Am I in the wrong for holding grudges against the ppl that hurt my friends/family/partner?
My (25F) girlfriend and I (24NB) were planning on having just one birthday party for the both of us next month, since our birthdays are only days apart and I'm going to be visiting her (we are long distance) for the week. We thought it was a good idea to have it together. The ppl invited are just her group of friends (for obvious reasons) whom I get along pretty well and already knew beforehand. The issue came around later when she asked me if she could invite another friend to the party that's not really in the group chat, and I told her that since this is a celebration for the both of us, I wouldn't be comfortable with that.
Now, the thing is, I don't like this particular friend at all because of some stuff he did and said in the past (about my gf). They fought and fell apart for a couple of months last year and then at the beginning of this one, after blocking her and removing her from his social media and bad-mouthing her, he asked her to reconnect and talk about it. Apparently a mutual friend convinced him. My gf accepted this and went to have dinner with him and they did talk about it, he apologized for being an asshole but told her that he was just waiting for her to reach out (cause she used to do that when they fought before and now she didn’t). At the end, she told him that they couldn't go back to what they were, but they could see how things go. She asked for my opinion on this and I told her that based on the things he said at the meeting and all that, I wouldn't really trust him, but at the end of the day it was her choice and I'd respect whatever she decided on, whether they are friends again or just acquaintances. That doesn't mean I don't have my own thoughts about it though. He was an immature asshole and he hurt her and made her cry. She was dealing with a lot of intrusive thoughts and had depressive episodes after all went down. I understand she wants to forgive him, and I actually like how she can put all behind them and move on, but I'm not really like that.
Anyways, that was it. She told me she wouldn't want to hang out with him like just the two of them like before, but that she wouldn't avoid him if he happen to be in the same place or hanging out with the same friends.
As far as I know, they haven't been talking at all. But now she told me she wants to invite him to the birthday party and wanted to know how I felt about it. And I was honest. I don't like him and I would rather not see him, if it can be avoided. I wouldn't have said anything if it was just her party, of course, because she has the right to invite whoever she wants, but since it was a celebration for the both of us and since she asked, I guess I thought it would've been nice to have a say and all that. This didn't really sit right with her.
We had a huge fight about it and she told me she wanted to invite him anyways, and if I didn't want him there bc it was my birthday as well, we should do two separate parties so she can invite him to hers. Under normal circumstances, that would've been fine by me. But as I established before, we are long distance. None of my friends or family are going to celebrate with me there, so I think the idea is rather dumb; the only person who's not going to be invited to mine is him, the rest of the guests would be the same and really, would they even want to go to two different reunions with a two day difference just because of this one person? At the end, I told her it was fine and I would just bear with it. I'm not an immature person who's going to fill the room with negative energy just because of this, and the things he did are not really unforgivable crimes to the point I wouldn't want to be in the same room as him. He's just an asshole and a bad friend. I didn't really like the fact that she asked me like I had a choice at all, because at the end it was either we invite him or you make your own party outside of mine, but anyways.
So, that's solved. I can compromise on that and I also understand her point, I guess, since at the end of the day he is (was?) one of her closest friends. I don't know.
The thing that has been bothering me now is that after all of this went down, we talked about it more deeply and she told me that it doesn't make sense that I would hold a grudge towards the people that are in her life, cause the problems she has have all to do with her and whoever that person is and not, well, me.
And I don't really know how to feel about that? I had issues with some friends in the past and ex partners that were toxic, and the ppl around me despise them. I have a complicated relationship with my mom as well, and most of them hold resentment towards her for that reason and I'm aware of this. These problems are none of their business, I know, but I thought it was normal to watch them react to it and form their own opinions toward those people because they hurt me. And I'm dear to them. And it's the same the other way around. If you hurt my friends, I don't like you, whether you are a family member or an ex boyfriend or a toxic friend.
I asked her what does she think about the ppl that hurt me, and she told me she doesn't have any kind of resentment towards them because is not her place. She might not like them bc of their actions, but that's about it. If I decide to forgive them, she welcomes them back into her life as well.
So now I'm wondering, is it wrong of me to hold grudges against someone who hurts the people who are dear to me? Am I the asshole? Should I stop?
I have spoken about this to my friends but I think I need a little more perspective, cause they all behave the same way I do when we are talking about this particular topic.
submitted by sunflower99_ to AITAH [link] [comments]
Now, the thing is, I don't like this particular friend at all because of some stuff he did and said in the past (about my gf). They fought and fell apart for a couple of months last year and then at the beginning of this one, after blocking her and removing her from his social media and bad-mouthing her, he asked her to reconnect and talk about it. Apparently a mutual friend convinced him. My gf accepted this and went to have dinner with him and they did talk about it, he apologized for being an asshole but told her that he was just waiting for her to reach out (cause she used to do that when they fought before and now she didn’t). At the end, she told him that they couldn't go back to what they were, but they could see how things go. She asked for my opinion on this and I told her that based on the things he said at the meeting and all that, I wouldn't really trust him, but at the end of the day it was her choice and I'd respect whatever she decided on, whether they are friends again or just acquaintances. That doesn't mean I don't have my own thoughts about it though. He was an immature asshole and he hurt her and made her cry. She was dealing with a lot of intrusive thoughts and had depressive episodes after all went down. I understand she wants to forgive him, and I actually like how she can put all behind them and move on, but I'm not really like that.
Anyways, that was it. She told me she wouldn't want to hang out with him like just the two of them like before, but that she wouldn't avoid him if he happen to be in the same place or hanging out with the same friends.
As far as I know, they haven't been talking at all. But now she told me she wants to invite him to the birthday party and wanted to know how I felt about it. And I was honest. I don't like him and I would rather not see him, if it can be avoided. I wouldn't have said anything if it was just her party, of course, because she has the right to invite whoever she wants, but since it was a celebration for the both of us and since she asked, I guess I thought it would've been nice to have a say and all that. This didn't really sit right with her.
We had a huge fight about it and she told me she wanted to invite him anyways, and if I didn't want him there bc it was my birthday as well, we should do two separate parties so she can invite him to hers. Under normal circumstances, that would've been fine by me. But as I established before, we are long distance. None of my friends or family are going to celebrate with me there, so I think the idea is rather dumb; the only person who's not going to be invited to mine is him, the rest of the guests would be the same and really, would they even want to go to two different reunions with a two day difference just because of this one person? At the end, I told her it was fine and I would just bear with it. I'm not an immature person who's going to fill the room with negative energy just because of this, and the things he did are not really unforgivable crimes to the point I wouldn't want to be in the same room as him. He's just an asshole and a bad friend. I didn't really like the fact that she asked me like I had a choice at all, because at the end it was either we invite him or you make your own party outside of mine, but anyways.
So, that's solved. I can compromise on that and I also understand her point, I guess, since at the end of the day he is (was?) one of her closest friends. I don't know.
The thing that has been bothering me now is that after all of this went down, we talked about it more deeply and she told me that it doesn't make sense that I would hold a grudge towards the people that are in her life, cause the problems she has have all to do with her and whoever that person is and not, well, me.
And I don't really know how to feel about that? I had issues with some friends in the past and ex partners that were toxic, and the ppl around me despise them. I have a complicated relationship with my mom as well, and most of them hold resentment towards her for that reason and I'm aware of this. These problems are none of their business, I know, but I thought it was normal to watch them react to it and form their own opinions toward those people because they hurt me. And I'm dear to them. And it's the same the other way around. If you hurt my friends, I don't like you, whether you are a family member or an ex boyfriend or a toxic friend.
I asked her what does she think about the ppl that hurt me, and she told me she doesn't have any kind of resentment towards them because is not her place. She might not like them bc of their actions, but that's about it. If I decide to forgive them, she welcomes them back into her life as well.
So now I'm wondering, is it wrong of me to hold grudges against someone who hurts the people who are dear to me? Am I the asshole? Should I stop?
I have spoken about this to my friends but I think I need a little more perspective, cause they all behave the same way I do when we are talking about this particular topic.
2024.05.19 20:25 alba_28_74 Will I Be The AH If I Think About Breaking My Relationship With My Boyfriend Of 3 Years And His Family After His Father Shouted At Me While Banging Table For Standing Up For His Wife Against Him!!
Hi,I 25(F) is in a relationship with my boyfriend "K" (M) 31 for 3 years. Their family has been going through a rough patch for quite a sometime regarding financial, personal and health related issues respectively.His immediate family has 3 members him along with his parents.
Recently his dog(Bruno) died and his family still isn't over the situation and Bruno is being remembered quite often. Amongst such situation his mother thought of adopting another dog and expressed it to his father this evening while we all were busy running our different errands. Suddenly he started shouting at her and we were taken by surprise by his behaviour.We started asking for such behaviour and his reason was " we just lost Bruno,we shouldn't adopt one as she is a patient of high BP and won't be able to maintain a dog,and he won't spend a penny on another dog".She got offended but didn't say a word cuz she is very introvert and generally is not standing up for herself of person.So I and my boyfriend stepped in and stood up for her and and that lead to a chaotic situation that included shouting, accusing, cursing amongst father and son,I tried to stop them and make them understand that we shouldn't do such,but it started to go out of control.
I requested both to not get riled up upon such topic,we will cross the bridge when we reach there, but nothing could make the situation come in control.Finally after a lot of convincing and shouting me and his mother could separate them and stop the heated conversation.Then I first went to my boyfriend to make him understand that this conversation is possible even without shouting and getting angry.He stated " The conversation is not the problem but his mentality of dominating his mother and shout at her is wrong and is still entitled to take decisions for her without him intervening.She is capable enough to bear the costs of the maintenance of the dog and she doesn't need to be dependent on him" with which I agree too. Next I went to his father to make him understand, he stated" She shouldn't get a dog because she has high BP and he isn't over Bruno yet and won't allow a new dog at home neither will spend a penny on it." So I said "Respectfully, listen it's her you are staying at because it my boyfriend's father's home which she got as a gift and secondly he can't take away her right to speak and right to have her opinions about herself and her life and he shouldn't assert it on her just because she is your wife".
His reaction stunned me,he literally slammed the table loudly and came near me with anger and irritation in his voice and features and shouted "I don't obey by those shitty rights,she is a house wife,what I say stays and you keep your trap shut" .It took me some minutes to overcome the trance of his behaviour.My boyfriend again stepped in and this time with stern voice said if you can't respect your wife atleast respect a girl from different household and she is here as my girlfriend.Respect that. He kept denying that he said nothing wrong and his opinions are right.He even mentioned that I am the one who insulted him by trying to teach him about his wife's rights and since he didn't use slang on me in reply, I am not disrespected.
This time I lost patience and told that enough is I am not keeping any connection with this family cuz if today me being his son's girlfriend can insult me in such a way then they will keep repeating the same if I join this family as his son's wife and will start treating me more badly and made my statement clear that I am cutting all ties with them including my boyfriend,then suddenly they all came together irrespective of their differences to convince me and my boyfriend broke down tears and started saying that why am I being left along while I was fighting for you.It was disheartening to see him cry but fear caught me what if in near days he turns out to be his father!!I literally can't think ahead of that fear.
Note 1 : I met his family at the first year of our relationship and I always felt that this type of domination works in their family but it wasn't so vivid like this time
Note 2: His father always showed a negligence behaviour towards his mother and she decoded it as his inexpressive ways to love her which I always objected personally but never showed the courage to talk between them before.
Note 3: In the past I had worst of experiences with boyfriends and I still fear that this turns out one of another worst examples of my life and lessons too.
Note 4 : It's a brown family problem with brown family mentality!!
So after me declaring that I want to walk out of the relationship his parents pleaded me not to do so,and his father promised not that he won't be doing so again; but I can't find the courage to believe that because firstly I feel like they are lying and secondly I don't have the courage to believe in him after that behaviour of his. They convinced me that my boyfriend should drop me home and on the way home he mentioned that "I fight for every one,they never think of doing such and selfishly thinks about themselves and work accordingly." So I asked back that "Is choosing my respect over a relationship a selfish thing?!" He didn't answer me and while leaving for home after dropping me,he with teary eyes and sad face said "I know you don't want me and won't keep me,but I do still love you" and went off.
Now am stuck between head and heart, because it hurts at the thought of a life without him and on otherside my self respect is soaring the sky that I shouldn't give in because if I let this situation slip and pass in near days and years situation will go south and beyond control that will lead to serious relationship and personal life turmoil.
Sorry for being ti elaborate and please help me understand the situation better with a third pair of eyes.
Thank You.
submitted by alba_28_74 to AITAH [link] [comments]
Recently his dog(Bruno) died and his family still isn't over the situation and Bruno is being remembered quite often. Amongst such situation his mother thought of adopting another dog and expressed it to his father this evening while we all were busy running our different errands. Suddenly he started shouting at her and we were taken by surprise by his behaviour.We started asking for such behaviour and his reason was " we just lost Bruno,we shouldn't adopt one as she is a patient of high BP and won't be able to maintain a dog,and he won't spend a penny on another dog".She got offended but didn't say a word cuz she is very introvert and generally is not standing up for herself of person.So I and my boyfriend stepped in and stood up for her and and that lead to a chaotic situation that included shouting, accusing, cursing amongst father and son,I tried to stop them and make them understand that we shouldn't do such,but it started to go out of control.
I requested both to not get riled up upon such topic,we will cross the bridge when we reach there, but nothing could make the situation come in control.Finally after a lot of convincing and shouting me and his mother could separate them and stop the heated conversation.Then I first went to my boyfriend to make him understand that this conversation is possible even without shouting and getting angry.He stated " The conversation is not the problem but his mentality of dominating his mother and shout at her is wrong and is still entitled to take decisions for her without him intervening.She is capable enough to bear the costs of the maintenance of the dog and she doesn't need to be dependent on him" with which I agree too. Next I went to his father to make him understand, he stated" She shouldn't get a dog because she has high BP and he isn't over Bruno yet and won't allow a new dog at home neither will spend a penny on it." So I said "Respectfully, listen it's her you are staying at because it my boyfriend's father's home which she got as a gift and secondly he can't take away her right to speak and right to have her opinions about herself and her life and he shouldn't assert it on her just because she is your wife".
His reaction stunned me,he literally slammed the table loudly and came near me with anger and irritation in his voice and features and shouted "I don't obey by those shitty rights,she is a house wife,what I say stays and you keep your trap shut" .It took me some minutes to overcome the trance of his behaviour.My boyfriend again stepped in and this time with stern voice said if you can't respect your wife atleast respect a girl from different household and she is here as my girlfriend.Respect that. He kept denying that he said nothing wrong and his opinions are right.He even mentioned that I am the one who insulted him by trying to teach him about his wife's rights and since he didn't use slang on me in reply, I am not disrespected.
This time I lost patience and told that enough is I am not keeping any connection with this family cuz if today me being his son's girlfriend can insult me in such a way then they will keep repeating the same if I join this family as his son's wife and will start treating me more badly and made my statement clear that I am cutting all ties with them including my boyfriend,then suddenly they all came together irrespective of their differences to convince me and my boyfriend broke down tears and started saying that why am I being left along while I was fighting for you.It was disheartening to see him cry but fear caught me what if in near days he turns out to be his father!!I literally can't think ahead of that fear.
Note 1 : I met his family at the first year of our relationship and I always felt that this type of domination works in their family but it wasn't so vivid like this time
Note 2: His father always showed a negligence behaviour towards his mother and she decoded it as his inexpressive ways to love her which I always objected personally but never showed the courage to talk between them before.
Note 3: In the past I had worst of experiences with boyfriends and I still fear that this turns out one of another worst examples of my life and lessons too.
Note 4 : It's a brown family problem with brown family mentality!!
So after me declaring that I want to walk out of the relationship his parents pleaded me not to do so,and his father promised not that he won't be doing so again; but I can't find the courage to believe that because firstly I feel like they are lying and secondly I don't have the courage to believe in him after that behaviour of his. They convinced me that my boyfriend should drop me home and on the way home he mentioned that "I fight for every one,they never think of doing such and selfishly thinks about themselves and work accordingly." So I asked back that "Is choosing my respect over a relationship a selfish thing?!" He didn't answer me and while leaving for home after dropping me,he with teary eyes and sad face said "I know you don't want me and won't keep me,but I do still love you" and went off.
Now am stuck between head and heart, because it hurts at the thought of a life without him and on otherside my self respect is soaring the sky that I shouldn't give in because if I let this situation slip and pass in near days and years situation will go south and beyond control that will lead to serious relationship and personal life turmoil.
Sorry for being ti elaborate and please help me understand the situation better with a third pair of eyes.
Thank You.
2024.05.19 20:23 Passion_fruit97 Looking for advice 27m, 26f
Hello everyone,
I’m seeking for your advice because I don’t know how to act.
I moved to a new small town for work, Since I didn’t know anyone some coworkers adviced me to download Tinder. So I did and I matched with a girl I really liked, she lives and 1 hour and a half from me, but we started chatting and then we had a date.
In that date I went to her town we visited another beautiful town, we had a great time had drinks, walked through te town and such.
She invited me to stay the night because she knew I lived far, we did not kiss during the date, but when we got to her house and lay down to sleep, we started to kiss and then we had sex.
Any way the next day we had breakfast together, and we agreed that both of us had a lot in common and that we would like to keep seeing each other.
So as we continued texting each other, she called me handsome, sent good morning text, told each other how are day went.
One day, so one day I was a little bit horny and as everything had been fine and we already had sex before I told her I was craving her.
So she asked me what was what I wanted from her and I told her I really her and that I would like to be in a serous relationship with her in the future. She told me she would like to keep dating as well but, she asked me if we could slow down, that she knew we already had sex but that I shouldn’t expect to happened again because she needed time to get to know better.
I didn’t understand it that much because it had already happened and we both liked it, and she kept me texting sweet things, but I told her I had no problem with that.
Anyway she had an up coming wedding, from his boss at work, but she invited her female best friend, she even told me that if she knew we would had a great match she would had invited me.
I told her I understand and to not worry, but then the day the wedding was happening her best friend cancelled her, and she invited me, I don’t like being invited like that last minute. But as we agreed to keep dating and that we liked each other, and we had seen each other for 3 weeks, I agreed to go last minute. I got dressed and drove to the wedding, I was really happy to see her, she introduced me to everyone and I thought everything was going great.
But when we sat to have dinner, I placed my hand above her knee, as a sign of “we are in this together” I didn’t know anyone but her, so I needed that physical reassurance. But here is when things strayed to get weird, she did not placed her hand on mine or anything I was the only one touching her, and that felt weird, at one point she moved her leg and I took my hand away, she was not talking to me that much but more with the other people at the table.
As I got more uncomfortable I asked her if we could talk, and I told her about why she was not touching me and avoiding me, I mean I didn’t not want for us to make out at the table but not even her hand was weird for me, she told me that we had to act as friend with no physical touch, not the slightest one because it was an evento with people of her job and that everyone at her job knew she was single. So o did not liked that answer much because the other couples were touching each other and such like it was no big deal.
So I was really uncomfortable because another guy at the table who she was talking too (boyfriend of her friend) even started to called by a nick name which I found rude because I’ve just met that guy.
And given all these things I decided to leave, I told her I would leave because I felt uncomfortable, and she told me to stay and to try to have a good time but I declined, she told me she would walk me to the exit and when I was waiting for my Uber she told meif she could hug me, that she really liked hugs and was confused because she denied me the slightest physical touch when we were inside, then she hug me and then she kissed me! I mean I just wanted a little bit of touch when at the weeding but I didn’t get anything till we are alone and outside. She told me to tell her when I get home, I left around 10:30 pm but I told her that if she was interested in knowing I arrived safely that it was on her to text me, not me, she agreed to be the one to text me. I told her “we wouldn’t d see each other again “ but she told me “you know we will meet again” and left
Then I was expecting for her to text me 2 hours later she had her phone and was using it. But She texted me till 11 am in the morning if I reached my destination safe, I found that was rude because she knew I was going to drive for two hours at night and she texted me till the morning.
So I was confused and angry and didn’t answer her text, and she didn’t write anything else, that was a month ago. I still find myself thinking about her because I really liked her but it seams it meant nothing to her when first she made me believe she was looking for something serious too,
Were I the one that acted badly or was it her? Did I fucked up?
I don’t know if I should text her again, I see her photos and I really find her pretty but more than that I felt we had a lot of values in common.
Please help, give your advice Guys, thank you in advance,
submitted by Passion_fruit97 to dating_advice [link] [comments]
I’m seeking for your advice because I don’t know how to act.
I moved to a new small town for work, Since I didn’t know anyone some coworkers adviced me to download Tinder. So I did and I matched with a girl I really liked, she lives and 1 hour and a half from me, but we started chatting and then we had a date.
In that date I went to her town we visited another beautiful town, we had a great time had drinks, walked through te town and such.
She invited me to stay the night because she knew I lived far, we did not kiss during the date, but when we got to her house and lay down to sleep, we started to kiss and then we had sex.
Any way the next day we had breakfast together, and we agreed that both of us had a lot in common and that we would like to keep seeing each other.
So as we continued texting each other, she called me handsome, sent good morning text, told each other how are day went.
One day, so one day I was a little bit horny and as everything had been fine and we already had sex before I told her I was craving her.
So she asked me what was what I wanted from her and I told her I really her and that I would like to be in a serous relationship with her in the future. She told me she would like to keep dating as well but, she asked me if we could slow down, that she knew we already had sex but that I shouldn’t expect to happened again because she needed time to get to know better.
I didn’t understand it that much because it had already happened and we both liked it, and she kept me texting sweet things, but I told her I had no problem with that.
Anyway she had an up coming wedding, from his boss at work, but she invited her female best friend, she even told me that if she knew we would had a great match she would had invited me.
I told her I understand and to not worry, but then the day the wedding was happening her best friend cancelled her, and she invited me, I don’t like being invited like that last minute. But as we agreed to keep dating and that we liked each other, and we had seen each other for 3 weeks, I agreed to go last minute. I got dressed and drove to the wedding, I was really happy to see her, she introduced me to everyone and I thought everything was going great.
But when we sat to have dinner, I placed my hand above her knee, as a sign of “we are in this together” I didn’t know anyone but her, so I needed that physical reassurance. But here is when things strayed to get weird, she did not placed her hand on mine or anything I was the only one touching her, and that felt weird, at one point she moved her leg and I took my hand away, she was not talking to me that much but more with the other people at the table.
As I got more uncomfortable I asked her if we could talk, and I told her about why she was not touching me and avoiding me, I mean I didn’t not want for us to make out at the table but not even her hand was weird for me, she told me that we had to act as friend with no physical touch, not the slightest one because it was an evento with people of her job and that everyone at her job knew she was single. So o did not liked that answer much because the other couples were touching each other and such like it was no big deal.
So I was really uncomfortable because another guy at the table who she was talking too (boyfriend of her friend) even started to called by a nick name which I found rude because I’ve just met that guy.
And given all these things I decided to leave, I told her I would leave because I felt uncomfortable, and she told me to stay and to try to have a good time but I declined, she told me she would walk me to the exit and when I was waiting for my Uber she told meif she could hug me, that she really liked hugs and was confused because she denied me the slightest physical touch when we were inside, then she hug me and then she kissed me! I mean I just wanted a little bit of touch when at the weeding but I didn’t get anything till we are alone and outside. She told me to tell her when I get home, I left around 10:30 pm but I told her that if she was interested in knowing I arrived safely that it was on her to text me, not me, she agreed to be the one to text me. I told her “we wouldn’t d see each other again “ but she told me “you know we will meet again” and left
Then I was expecting for her to text me 2 hours later she had her phone and was using it. But She texted me till 11 am in the morning if I reached my destination safe, I found that was rude because she knew I was going to drive for two hours at night and she texted me till the morning.
So I was confused and angry and didn’t answer her text, and she didn’t write anything else, that was a month ago. I still find myself thinking about her because I really liked her but it seams it meant nothing to her when first she made me believe she was looking for something serious too,
Were I the one that acted badly or was it her? Did I fucked up?
I don’t know if I should text her again, I see her photos and I really find her pretty but more than that I felt we had a lot of values in common.
Please help, give your advice Guys, thank you in advance,
2024.05.19 20:16 Logical-Course-1552 I am confused and would like to hear people's opinions on the matter. This post will be deleted in 24 hrs. What are your thoughts? I think there were times we were both bad for each other but what do you think I should bring up if I apologize to him? THIS POST WILL BE DELETED IN 24 HRS (18M) (18F)
Throw away account because why not?
When we first started dating he loved bombed me with gifts and ALOT of letters that would say things such as I've never felt this way before, and you're amazing, and I could see this going forever, and I never knew how possessive I was till I met you. We only dated a little under 3 months at this point; I decided it would be best for us to go on a break because he wasn't following my boundaries with the love bombing and it seemed like he needed time to build up his self. We went on the break for a week during which he went on this dating app for teens and told me that it was fine he was only on there for fun. I told him at the end of the week that "I didn't think I wanted to keep dating:" and he just replied with "k". which left me feeling like I didn't get closure but I ignored that and would talk shit about the relationship with my friends (we dated in the friend group so we had the same friends (side note: they felt like he distanced himself from them when we started dating and he would get jealous when I'd make flirting jokes with them which we always made; this caused some people in the friend group to feel some type of way about him)) But I would still tell my friends not to be too harsh and give him the benefit of the doubt, and then when my friend Mike brought up that my ex had been avoiding me, him, and Danelle; my ex got upset and brought up something that made me uncomfortable. So I got pissed and didn't talk to him for like a month and a half because I was like you lashed out at me for no reason, and was aggressive towards him when I did; I thought that there was no way he wouldn't have known what he said would make me uncomfortable since every time it was brought up I talked about how it made me sad. After this though for some unknown reason, I felt like I needed him back (p.s i mentioned the teen dating app because he ended up dating some guy on there 2 weeks after we broke up). So I ended up texting him and in the text, I apologized for everything in the relationship even the stuff I didn't think I did, and told him Id like to be friends again and he said he was sorry that something he said would hurt me and that he truly didn't know it made me sad or that I would be offended and we were on good terms again. I called my friend crying cause I didn't know how I felt about my choice and my brain was saying I didn't want him back but my heart was saying I needed him. Fast forward and we are on good terms but don't talk much, later I am out of school for weeks because I get really bad depression from being heavily overwhelmed and find that a game is my safe space because I can stay home and never see the public while still feeling like I'm interacting with something. My ex is really into the game so he joined my game we have a lot of fun and it is my first human interaction in 2-3 weeks. We stayed on call playing the game for 17 hours straight that night and it became a habit for us to have all-night calls, I started feeling like he was the only one who truly got me because he understood and related to a lot of the things I was dealing with and thinking about in my depression and we start to flirt like we did when we first were dating. Finally, I returned to school and saw my other friends and unintentionally did not talk to him as much because I realized how much I missed my other friends we don't have classes together so I only saw him once during passing that day anyway. Once I got home I got on a call with my friend Danelle and she's like see you didn't need "EX" to be in public, and I was like huh I didn't realize that but I don't wanna bet on it. After this moment "EX" gets a little more distant but it's not noticeable so I don't really care, but then I go through his tik tok, and I knew at this point that he had a crush on a different girl earlier in the month, but I didn't realize that he had written paragraphs and made tik toks about how down bad he was for her just 20 days ago. This was a red flag for me since I don't see how he could've gotten over her in 20 days and I don't wanna be his second option just because she won't date him. I end up bringing it up to him casually saying oh I saw your tik tok you should go for her. And he said "Who? Sam?" and I said yes, and he said I told u before there wasn't a spark so we are just friends now. And I said how do u move on in 20 days and he said what TikTok are u talking about? So I sent it to him and he said he couldn't see it, so I was explaining where it was and he said it was probably deleted refresh your page, and I said how was it deleted if I'm looking at it? and he said refresh your page it must have been recently deleted, I said but then he wouldn't be able to see which one I'm talking about. And then he said refresh your page I just deleted it. Which threw me off because I was thinking why did you delete it? and why did you try to act like I was crazy for seeing it as if it had always been deleted? so then he ends up saying that he was 70% moved on and 20% not. So from that moment on he would not get on a call with the rest of us, at first, I was like oh it's okay; he missed the call, then I was like maybe he doesn't see the call notification so let me send a text so he'll know, and then I got so desperate that I was about to @ him when my friend Danelle got on the call and distracted me. It was hard for me because I feel like I need him in my life and to go from calling every day to never really made me desperate for him to get on a call and we go back to how it was when I was depressed. He finally got on call last night and although we stayed up a little late he was distant and not as talkative or giggly as he used to be. also after the talk about Sam, he stopped saying goodnight and sweet dreams when we got off the call and would only say gn. What are your thoughts on this, on one hand, I wanna be like fuck him I don't wanna be his second choice. And on the other hand, I really wanna go back to flirting with him and date him.
But I do feel guilty because he says that he felt like he couldn't tell our friends about our relationship. After all, the majority sided with me whenever we would have issues, so I feel bad that he didn't think he had support during the relationship. Also, decisions for me were hard in the relationship because he would give me his opinion and I'd wanna go with that and then my friends and family would say a different opinion and I would want to go with that; so I never felt like I got to make my own decision without worrying about other peoples opinions
Timeline (dated until December) (No talking until around February) (Started the late-night calls in early May)
submitted by Logical-Course-1552 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
When we first started dating he loved bombed me with gifts and ALOT of letters that would say things such as I've never felt this way before, and you're amazing, and I could see this going forever, and I never knew how possessive I was till I met you. We only dated a little under 3 months at this point; I decided it would be best for us to go on a break because he wasn't following my boundaries with the love bombing and it seemed like he needed time to build up his self. We went on the break for a week during which he went on this dating app for teens and told me that it was fine he was only on there for fun. I told him at the end of the week that "I didn't think I wanted to keep dating:" and he just replied with "k". which left me feeling like I didn't get closure but I ignored that and would talk shit about the relationship with my friends (we dated in the friend group so we had the same friends (side note: they felt like he distanced himself from them when we started dating and he would get jealous when I'd make flirting jokes with them which we always made; this caused some people in the friend group to feel some type of way about him)) But I would still tell my friends not to be too harsh and give him the benefit of the doubt, and then when my friend Mike brought up that my ex had been avoiding me, him, and Danelle; my ex got upset and brought up something that made me uncomfortable. So I got pissed and didn't talk to him for like a month and a half because I was like you lashed out at me for no reason, and was aggressive towards him when I did; I thought that there was no way he wouldn't have known what he said would make me uncomfortable since every time it was brought up I talked about how it made me sad. After this though for some unknown reason, I felt like I needed him back (p.s i mentioned the teen dating app because he ended up dating some guy on there 2 weeks after we broke up). So I ended up texting him and in the text, I apologized for everything in the relationship even the stuff I didn't think I did, and told him Id like to be friends again and he said he was sorry that something he said would hurt me and that he truly didn't know it made me sad or that I would be offended and we were on good terms again. I called my friend crying cause I didn't know how I felt about my choice and my brain was saying I didn't want him back but my heart was saying I needed him. Fast forward and we are on good terms but don't talk much, later I am out of school for weeks because I get really bad depression from being heavily overwhelmed and find that a game is my safe space because I can stay home and never see the public while still feeling like I'm interacting with something. My ex is really into the game so he joined my game we have a lot of fun and it is my first human interaction in 2-3 weeks. We stayed on call playing the game for 17 hours straight that night and it became a habit for us to have all-night calls, I started feeling like he was the only one who truly got me because he understood and related to a lot of the things I was dealing with and thinking about in my depression and we start to flirt like we did when we first were dating. Finally, I returned to school and saw my other friends and unintentionally did not talk to him as much because I realized how much I missed my other friends we don't have classes together so I only saw him once during passing that day anyway. Once I got home I got on a call with my friend Danelle and she's like see you didn't need "EX" to be in public, and I was like huh I didn't realize that but I don't wanna bet on it. After this moment "EX" gets a little more distant but it's not noticeable so I don't really care, but then I go through his tik tok, and I knew at this point that he had a crush on a different girl earlier in the month, but I didn't realize that he had written paragraphs and made tik toks about how down bad he was for her just 20 days ago. This was a red flag for me since I don't see how he could've gotten over her in 20 days and I don't wanna be his second option just because she won't date him. I end up bringing it up to him casually saying oh I saw your tik tok you should go for her. And he said "Who? Sam?" and I said yes, and he said I told u before there wasn't a spark so we are just friends now. And I said how do u move on in 20 days and he said what TikTok are u talking about? So I sent it to him and he said he couldn't see it, so I was explaining where it was and he said it was probably deleted refresh your page, and I said how was it deleted if I'm looking at it? and he said refresh your page it must have been recently deleted, I said but then he wouldn't be able to see which one I'm talking about. And then he said refresh your page I just deleted it. Which threw me off because I was thinking why did you delete it? and why did you try to act like I was crazy for seeing it as if it had always been deleted? so then he ends up saying that he was 70% moved on and 20% not. So from that moment on he would not get on a call with the rest of us, at first, I was like oh it's okay; he missed the call, then I was like maybe he doesn't see the call notification so let me send a text so he'll know, and then I got so desperate that I was about to @ him when my friend Danelle got on the call and distracted me. It was hard for me because I feel like I need him in my life and to go from calling every day to never really made me desperate for him to get on a call and we go back to how it was when I was depressed. He finally got on call last night and although we stayed up a little late he was distant and not as talkative or giggly as he used to be. also after the talk about Sam, he stopped saying goodnight and sweet dreams when we got off the call and would only say gn. What are your thoughts on this, on one hand, I wanna be like fuck him I don't wanna be his second choice. And on the other hand, I really wanna go back to flirting with him and date him.
But I do feel guilty because he says that he felt like he couldn't tell our friends about our relationship. After all, the majority sided with me whenever we would have issues, so I feel bad that he didn't think he had support during the relationship. Also, decisions for me were hard in the relationship because he would give me his opinion and I'd wanna go with that and then my friends and family would say a different opinion and I would want to go with that; so I never felt like I got to make my own decision without worrying about other peoples opinions
Timeline (dated until December) (No talking until around February) (Started the late-night calls in early May)
2024.05.19 20:16 andyspacepants Nutrition? Or something else?
 | I did my first ultra - a backyard last man standing. 12 yards - 50 miles - a 30 mile run specific PR, but I've done a fair amount 30 - 40 miles rucks and 24 hour GoRuck events and some longer military-based civilian events. I was thinking I could make it quite a bit further than this (perhaps ambitious, but I'm a shoot for the stars kind of guy). submitted by andyspacepants to Ultramarathon [link] [comments] Based on my notes, It seems like nutrition (processing calories) played a bigger role than I expected, and that's my question. I was relying primarily on Tailwind, but around lap 9, my body just did not want to drink it anymore and then wouldn't eat or drink anything but water. A little more context: My last six weeks of training was pretty choppy as I dealt with achilles and knee discomfort which I managed by adding strength training back into my routine and throttling miles for a bit. Thankfully - none of those presented on my race - my legs / knees / etc. felt good for the most part, but my body seemed to just generally be shuting down. How did you find out what your body needed? Isn't tailwind supposed to be the 'magic fuel' for these kinds of runs? Is this just ultra running growing pains? Feeling 'good' for 30 miles makes it hard for me to consider how I test for this unless I can only test by signing up for another ultra... https://preview.redd.it/clme59p2df1d1.jpg?width=3271&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=79441fcb681efb321948a14ef587397e8e56305a |
2024.05.19 20:16 Radiant_Security_173 What I take from Shera as a happily married woman
I discovered Shera's videos quite a few years ago, and loved her humour as well as her message to level up. I started noting down all her little gems. They give me motivation, and a giggle too. I am older, in my fifties, and have been happily married for over 15 years, so I don't need her dating, sugaring, or 'get the bag' advice, but I do love her level up advice. I saw another lady share her notes, so I wanted to as well. There are tons, I've realised! I hope you enjoy them!
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How do you become the prize?
If you don’t start as the prize, then you aren’t the prize. If you don’t know if your mind that you are already the prize then you can never be the prize.
~~
How to be more feminine so I can be spoiled more?
It’s a lifestyle. You have to act, fake it until you make it, and create a lifestyle. The days that you don’t feel very feminine are the days that you have to use more of your masculine energy.
Remember to always have a space to come back to that is feminine, and recharge yourself with feminine energy. Create a more feminine environment, wear more feminine clothes, listen to music that is going to help your femininity instead of diminishing it.
Keep things that you like to do feminine and do feminine things. Going shopping, getting your nails or hair done, buying shoes, picking out décor for our rooms, decorating tables, going on picnics, watching girly movies.
Recharge yourself by doing some of those things. You need to be able to recharge your femininity at least once or twice a week.
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Live the type of life you want already. It may not be on the scale that you want to live it at, but it needs to be a version of it. For example, if you want to live a soft, feminine life make sure your current life reflects that: your current environment, the current way you dress, the current way you walk, talk and act.
The more you receive, the better treatment you receive, if you can get a provider who can let you live a more feminine life, a softer life, then it's just going to get better and better.
But already live the life you want to live, that way they can only improve you and they see how you treat yourself and see what you like and that’s what they are going to be giving you. Your goals will be met just by dating.
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What are some ways to keep him interested in he provides well?
Look good
Make sure you know what his interest are
Talk to him
Make sure he feels like he is the man
Look good when you are out with him
Make sure you are pretty and heads turn ‘ooh who’s he with’
His self-esteem will skyrocket when you go out with him if you look good and he’s not going to want to leave that
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Men like women to switch it up as long as it’s classy.
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Flower attract bees to them by their bright colours and they smell good. Attract men to you:
· Wear bright pretty colours
· Smell good
· Look fresh, dewy and youthful
· Look attractive
Look like the prize. Look like his fantasy. Look through his eyes: what would he like to see?
It’s not that complicated. Bring it back down to simplicity? What do men like?
Heels
Skirts
Dresses
Makeup
Long hair
Red lipstick
Baby voice
Feminine colours
Make them feel good
Give them compliments
Let them talk
Don’t talk about your boring stuff – they don’t care
Use the formula to get success with men.
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If you want to dress casual in jeans and a cute top, still wear heels, hair, full makeup. If you’re going to wear jeans, you’re going to need to wear heels.
Also think about this: what sort of man are you attracting. If you wear jeans when you meet you’re going to get taken to a jeans date. Dress for the life you want.
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Comment:
When we had a fight I cut my hair short & bangs & went shopping. He was so glad he said “you look like a different person!” The fight was forgotten & he treated me new again & took me shopping again.
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"Life is fun! (...) life is a movie, life is a stage. Get into character... "
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Men don’t care about anything else but what you look like and how you make them feel.
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If you’ve let yourself go, level yourself up to the point that their jaw will drop when they see you.
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The only limitations are the ones you believe in.
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What do rich men’s wives all have in common besides being pretty?
They’re feminine
They’re classy
They’re not loud and obnoxious
They don’t outshine their husband
They hold back and keep it together in public
They are well proportioned
Shera had a friend who was a little rachet, and she ended up marrying wealthy. She had to totally change everything about herself:
The way she dressed
The way she wore her hair
The way she spoke
The kind of shoes she wore
Her makeup
She had to change it all
How she acted around people
How she spoke to men
She had to change everything
It’s not that she changed who she was inside or her personality
It’s that she changed who she was around men
There’s a difference
~~
Your stock should go up after you get married, not down. If your stock is not rising after marriage you’re doing it backwards. That means still investing into yourself, your beauty, your clothing, into your stash (money, wealth and investments). If you got married and your stock plummeted, that’s your fault.
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Loving yourself means putting yourself first as a priority. Knowing your worth and value and not taking any crap from anybody because you value yourself, you love yourself. That’s all loving yourself means. And not talking down about yourself. And knowing that you deserve what you want in life.
Once you do that other people will as well – men, co- workers, your boss, parents, spouse, brother, sister, cousin, whoever. Whoever is in your life at the moment will recognise that you love yourself and that you don’t have to submit to them or that you’re not desperate for their approval. In fact they may start to be desperate for your approval. So make sure you’re putting yourself first.
Don’t be always talking about the other person and what they want or what they think. Don’t care who they are. Don’t care about other people or their spouse or the person they’re interested in. It’s not about them, it’s about you. If they can’t recognise you and they don’t like you, then you are wasting time.
If you have to sit there and be puzzled about why someone is not responding properly or why they’re not doing this or that, it means they don’t like you so just move on and stop trying to waste time worrying about it. You already know that in the back of your mind; you’re just hoping for a different outcome that there won’t be.
Make sure that when you realise you are putting other people before yourself as a priority then you’re not going to get the type of man or people attracted to you that you need. When you can get somebody in the click of a finger and they’re not used to that it means you are valuable and that they are not necessary. They are very unnecessary and therefore they feel like you have even more value because you don’t need them. You don’t need them, they need you. That’s why they seek you out. That’s why they call you, that’s why they ask you out.
Make sure you’re not getting caught up in silliness. If they’re not putting you first, you’re gone. Or you put them on ice; that means you let them figure it out and when they start acting right again then you allow them back into your life. If you’re chasing behind someone, if you’re worrying about someone who ghosts you then you’re not putting yourself first.
And that means you don’t love yourself. A lot of people were taught to act a certain way – not cocky etc – if you don’t, all people see you as is a doormat. You can let down your guards later when they are fully invested in you and aren’t going anywhere, but until that happens they are there to impress you.
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How do you fall in love with yourself when you aren’t happy with yourself?
Become happy with yourself:
· Do things that make you happy
· Look the way you need to look
· Continue to do this every day until you are happy
Only you can make you happy
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Don’t go out there lookin’ like Plain Jane. Plain Jane gets passed by with the eye.
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The key is confidence. You can learn all you want, if you don’t have confidence you can’t pull it off. The key is confidence, knowing your value, and not listening to no dusties. That’s the key, that’s the masterclass right there – be confident.
Be main character energy. Stop caring what people think. Have a goal of what you want and go for it and don’t stop until you get it. Speak positive about yourself and stop dealing with dusties. That’s just it. You do all those things and you’re going to have something. You’re going to get what you’re looking for. That’s it.
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It’s not what you look like – it’s how you make them feel.
Are you going to make them feel young again?
Are you going to make life exciting for them?
Do they enjoy being with you?
Do they like being seen out in public with you?
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Shera, on when you talk about all your feelings and prior history:
“You’re being an informant on yourself. You’re telling on yourself. You’re giving out all your secrets and revealing everything. So that’s definitely not feminine energy, because feminine energy is naturally dark. You know, it’s water, it’s the cosmos, it’s that. So when you’re revealing everything, when nothing is unknown and everything is known, now you’re masculine. Because that’s light- everything is known. So the more you say, the more you tell, the more you open up, the more masculine you become in that energy, and the less mystery and femininity and feminine allure you have, because now you’re an open book. And they have all the clues to how the story ends and how to manipulate the character.”
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“Feminine energy is naturally dark, is water, is the cosmos, is that. So, when you are revealing everything, nothing is unknown and everything is known, now you’re more masculine, because that is light, everything is known.
So the more you say, the more you tell, the more you open up, the more masculine you become in that energy, and the less mystery and femininity and feminine allure you have because now you are an open book, you’re predictable.
And they have all the clues to how the story ends and how to manipulate the character.”
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Get them to worry about you, while you worry about you.
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How do you find your purpose? You create it.
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Leveling up is actually a lot of fun when you are present and mindful about it it’s probably be the best gift you could ever give yourself as a woman.
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Stop caring what other people think and live the life you want to live. If you don’t like kissing people’s butts, don’t kiss their butt.
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A lot of women don’t realise that if you just get into your feminine, and you stick with your standards, you can get what you ask for.
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How to become detached and unbothered?
Stop caring. When you care too much, that’s when you can’t detach and be unbothered. Stop caring, become ‘take it or leave it’. That’s your attitude. You will be fine with it or without it.
~~
Comment:
Three years ago I was getting yelled at a public train station (which we had to take because neither of us had a car) by my dusty disgusting ex. I lived in a cheap apartment with four unsavory roomates and their boyfriends. Now I live in a luxury high rise with a conceirge and valet. All I did today was get a facial, sit by the pool and shop. I don’t have to worry about a SINGLE THING and every man in my life treats me like a queen. I’m truly breaking generational curses; my dad left my mom with four kids alone while she worked at Denny’s waitressing overnight. If it weren’t for Shera’s wisdom I don’t know where I would be today but I just give thanks every day that I saw the light. This is my one and only life so why shouldn’t I be living peacefully and bougie.
It’s crazy how fast life can chance when you realize your worth and act on it. Keep on inching further and further; the more luxurious things you do the more the rest of your life catches up. It literally started with me going to the expensive nail salon instead of the cheap one. Then I felt like I deserved more. I moved into a nicer apartment that was out of my budget at first, then a nicer car, then I started buying designer bags and now I live in an ultra-luxurious place. Small steps and the rest of your life will catch up in time. Of course look your best every day and be healthy. And do not give a second of your time to anyone who does not treat you with respect, remember if they’re not adding to your life they are taking away.
The universe somehow just opened up and rains abundance on me. The more you surround yourself with the vibrations of prosperity the more it will be drawn to you. Ella Ringrose on YouTube helped me a lot to draw in money.
~~
Comment:
Shera ever since I started watching you I have levelled up my life completely. I lost 50 pounds and changed my whole look to be more feminine. My husband was so motivated he started making more money and bought me a home and my dream car. He does everything I want now and he feels proud to bring me home his paycheck. I no longer work and just workout every day and focus on my children. A lot of my family members don’t understand this life but I am very happy and comfortable.
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If you give yourself away too easily, your value is low.
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10 Important Habits of a Gold Digger
1)high standards
2)high self-esteem
3)perspective
4)purpose
5)options
6)be unapologetic
7)looks
8)business plan
9) knowledge/value of money
10)stay unbothered
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‘Busy patterns that aren’t classy make you look older’. You can show how classy your clothing is by the cut, colour and pattern, not the brand or designer.
Look to magazines for style inspiration:
O magazine = for older women
Instyle = more youthful
~~
Comment:
Men need respect, they don’t want your love.
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Wealthy men like women who are thin, feminine, and classy, or classy/sexy.
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Classic = classy. Dress in a way that you wouldn’t look crazy in a photo in 20 years time.
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‘We’re not trying to fit in, we’re trying to stand out.’
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Comment:
Looking beautiful, adore your blouse and that classy backdrop. I have earrings very similar. I have to go out now, I’m over 60 and always look stylish heading out the door . Make up and a cute dress today. You never know who is at the coffee shop 😊
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Be cute, be feminine, don’t talk so much. Let him do the hard work.
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‘You’re not his momma stop acting like it’ video
Women will turn into their man's mother without realizing it! Then he will run.
A lot of times when a woman has been in a relationship for a long time or is married, they start acting like a mother to the man without even realising it. To avoid that, do these things:
· Totally change everything – change how you dress, put more makeup on, wear heels.
· Act ten years younger.
· Don’t be concerned about the things you used to be concerned about.
· Let everything be free and fly.
· If you once worried about dishes in the sink don’t worry about it anymore.
· Change it up.
· If he realises that you stop caring and you just put all that extra energy that you were nagging and trying to organise and keep stuff right or that you were frustrated about – if you took all that extra energy and put it back into yourself – and you stopped worrying about the house and the domestic issues and him doing this, this and that. He’s going to think, ‘Well dang, everything is out of order, now she’s dressing like this and putting on makeup and looking this way, and the dishes aren’t clean anymore, or she’s not nagging me about picking up my clothes and the room is a mess’, then either he’ll get up and do it or he’ll start turning into your father.
· You mirror what they do and they’re gonna start seeing what you are doing by you have to act that way with them.
· You stop cleaning dishes, you start leaving your stuff on the floor.
· You start dressing cute, and say you’re going out.
· You forget to do stuff, or you stop helping out because you don’t want to damage your nails or the Real Housewives is on.
· Start doing the same thing to him – he watches sport, you say, ‘Oh Housewives is on, I wanna watch it. I don’t wanna watch it later.’
· You don’t do any of this like it’s revenge, just like you joined him in not being responsible, or joined him with more relaxed rules.
· He might like it. He might be like ‘you’re so laid back, you look happy today’.
· Then he might start cleaning up more because it’s not an order.
· But as long as you’re happy and not nagging him, he’s going to do it voluntarily.
~~
How you act and how you make him feel will give you more power to get what you want.
· Look good
· Be more feminine
· Speak softly
· Smile
· Laugh at whatever he is saying and make him feel good about who he is
· Let him talk more than you
· Feed his ego
· Act vulnerable and he will want to do things for you, will want to please and impress you
(I added:
· Ladylike, dainty, girlish, delicate, compassionate, considerate, sympathetic, tolerant, warm-hearted, gracious
· Calm, refined and tasteful
· Agreeable, friendly, good-natured,
· Kind, moral, pleasant, delightful)
That’s how you get what you want.
Our power is in our femininity, not in our masculinity, not in being in competition with a man, but making them weak because we are giving them exactly what no-one else does and so they’re not used to it and they yield to it and want more of it and they’re going to do what you want.
Being feminine is the key to getting what you want. There is no magic formula; it’s just ‘being feminine’. Work on that and you will get what you want. Work on your baby voice. Work on asking men for things and help, feeling vulnerable around them and stroking their ego and you can pretty much get what you want, especially if you choose the right target. Don’t go up and choose someone who has a thousand options, go up and choose someone who feels lucky to be with you and who will act accordingly.
~~
Men don’t like jealous women. You look insecure if you show jealousy. If you feel jealous, act like you don’t care – laugh it off.
~~
Men don’t like to be told what to do or have someone running their life. They don’t need you to offer them suggestions – this will just make them feel like a child, emasculated and they will rebel.
~~
Have a hobby and have a life.
Have your own life.
Make yourself number one.
Make sure he likes you more than you like him. If he really likes you he is going to chase you and not let you go, and you don’t even have to do anything to make this happen.
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I am not a people pleaser. I live for myself not others. And that’s how you have to be to be unbothered. Be unbothered always and you will live your best life.
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I live in a fantasy world every day. That’s why I can create the world that I want.
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A dream woman is motivation for a man in every way. If you no longer motivate him, you are no longer his dream woman.
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A good actress will melt into her role.
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Instead of waiting and having regret later, make the decision now to do what’s best for you, not what’s best for the outside world and what they think. Do what’s best for you in the long run, not what’s best for you right now in this one moment which will pass. Think ahead. Right now is gone. As soon as you think about it, it’s gone.
~~
To be a dream woman and to be worshipped by the man you are with, you have to stay focused on you. Don’t be about him. A man’s dream woman does not mean she is all over him. She has a life. Keep a healthy distance instead of being extra clingy. That way you stay on his level. Make sure you appeal to his friends (in a classy way) too. He will see that others appreciate you and know that he has the prize.
~~
“Put outfits together in your mind when negative people are talking.”
~~
How to be unbothered?
Comments:
‘Fake it till you make it. That’s what happened with me I started to pretend that it didn’t bother me. Now I’m literally so unbothered and focused on myself.’
‘When you are showing that you’re upset or bothered, you are giving them power to know they affected you. I love everyone but I do not argue. I have trained myself not to get emotional even at my husband or family. Being this way also makes you more respected, it’s part of your charisma.’
‘Being unbothered is a choice.’
~~
Comment:
If you're over 35 the best ways to look young is to drink a gallon of water a day....it's good for wrinkles..and helps your makeup glide on like butter.
Eat less and eat as much green as you can (Kale, Broccoli, Spinach) so you can be as slim as possible so that you feel good in your clothes....
Work out to increase your confidence...
Dress your age....nothing worse than a woman who dresses out of her age range...makes you look like you're trying too hard...
~~
Build confidence by not accepting that you have low self-esteem. Every day improve yourself so your self-esteem gets higher and higher. Don’t wallow in it, don’t accept it. Every day tell yourself what you want:
I look good
I feel good
I’m great
Tell yourself that. Give other people compliments, and they will give you compliments. Before you know it, you’ll have high self-esteem. You have to work on it, it doesn’t come automatically. It took a long time to tear down your self-esteem, and it takes a moment to pull it back up.
Just work on it, keep moving forward. Don’t let anyone put you down again.
~~
How to keep your husband interested
· Less communication
· Less giving of information
· Spend more time apart
· Don’t get so close that he is going to want to back up
· You have to get close then back up, get close then back up again
· Look your best at all times
· Don’t smother people and they won’t try to escape you
· Have a life
· Have things to do
· Have a to-do list that does not require that person
Go out and do things. He will appreciate you more when you get back. He will wonder what you’ve been doing. He will anticipate your return.
Don’t let him conquer you. When men have conquered a woman, they will move on. If he doesn’t feel like he can ever conquer you, he will try harder. Never let him feel like he totally has you.
~~
Masculine people (men or women) tend to run to the rescue of others.
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Shera, on uplevelling your looks and being your best every time you step out the front door: Don’t let life pass you by. Life is short. Life is very short.
Comment on Shera’s video: My mom went through a season where she dressed up and it just made our whole family and home come alive. I remember when my mom walked into the living room all fixed up and my little cousin's eyes just lit up. He said be careful don't touch her lol. He literally went from seeing her as a plain ol’ aunt to a princess. He was so young, but he couldn't fake it; that was his instincts.
~~
· It’s not about looking young, it’s about looking good.
· If you miss an opportunity to be levelling up, you are only cheating yourself.
· Stay ready.
· Every day do something to improve yourself - hair, exercise, mindset, self-esteem
· Enjoy getting ready – be creative
· If you’re wearing makeup, go bold. Men want to see the makeup.
· Men like it when you look your best. When you’re out in public, people are judging a man’s status by the type of wife he has, how she looks. You add status to any man that you are with.
· If you are attractive, you will have a lot of friends inviting you out. They will use you to attract attention because you look good. They are going to gravitate towards you and associate you with success. Your appearance will get you further than almost anything else.
~~
When you’re trying to lure a man in, dress for that man. Men do pay attention to what you look like.
Broke men pay attention to your silhouette. They look at your body because they just want to have sex with you.
Men with money pay attention to what you wear: your clothes, your shoes, your jewellery, your shoes, your hair, everything. Are you appropriate? If he wants to take it to the next level and take you out and get to know you, start a relationship, introduce you to his friends, he isn’t just looking at your body.
~~
The better you look, the more successful he looks.
~~
Men are visual creatures. Everything men do is based on that they see. How they treat you is based on what they see.
If you go without makeup, hair not done, and dressed badly, you won’t get the same treatment even by the people who see you every day. When you look good, the people around you have a little bit more respect for you. They see you looking pulled together and to see you any other way is foreign to them.
When you are levelled up, keep this in mind, don’t backslide. When a man meets you looking good, he wants to see you like that for your entire marriage. He doesn’t want you to let yourself go.
Try hard to keep yourself up during your marriage; how you looked when you met him is how he wants to see you forever more.
Men are very visual creatures, so when they see us looking bad, it upsets them. It literally makes them clench inside a little bit because they are so affected by the visual.
You are like a Christmas tree or a beautiful ornament. It’s a pleasure to look at you and they’ll want to be around you just for that.
People may treat you badly because you didn’t keep up your looks - a man could be speaking to another woman or ignoring you.
~~
“Just act and dress like a feminine lady. You’re making them feel younger by being in their presence. Watch 1950s Hollywood movie stars to watch how those ladies acted.”
Never help a man level up as they will always put you in a maternal role and look at you as a mother figure.
How to change your mindset:
1. Tell yourself that you are no longer allowing people to make you feel bad about something – that’s your choice.
2. Decide that you want to be better, and each day take action towards being better. Your self-esteem will rise from this.
3. Surround yourself with like-minded people so you can influence and help each other.
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People who talk less are generally more well respected.
~~
“Look for the positive in every negative comment or situation, and you will find it every time.
Whatever your weakness is, make it your strength, to fuel you to the next level. That’s how you really level up from inside. Face your weakness head on. If someone calls you fat, flaunt it. Say, ‘So what? Yes, I eat, I haven’t seen a rib in many decades, but I’m happy. I got a lovely husband, nice house, nice car.’
Instead of being a victim about it, empower yourself with it. Your flaw can be your power. It can be your power if you take it and embrace it and stop focusing on it as an insecurity. The more you focus on something as an insecurity, the more other people will focus on it because they know it’s your weakness and that’s how you get affected. Whatever your flaw is, turn it into something that can give you more than it can take from you. If people say it’s a flaw, take it and turn it into a power.”
~~
Don’t listen to what people say; what do you think? Opposition creates interest.
~~
· Be extra feminine in the way you dress, speak, act.
· Be charming - smile, don't argue (and then do exactly what you were going to do anyway).
· Ask for help from your man - opening a jar, lifting something, reaching up high, anything - they love it. Do this three times a day. Say things like 'It's too heavy for me'. Doing this makes them feel protective of you.
· When you are offered help, accept it.
· Talk to men in a feminine baby-voice.
· Practice being feminine and flirty every day to men everywhere so that it becomes second nature. Things such as asking a man for assistance at the supermarket and smiling and saying thank you in a feminine voice.
· Use your feminine charm on everyone around you.
· Look your best, put on makeup every day, smell good, be well groomed, have nice nails.
· Speak to him as if he's a person and not a child - don't try to control him. Mothers control their children and men don't want to have sex with their mother.
· Ask for what you want, but do it in a feminine way.
· Act like the prize to be the prize.
· Be unpredictable - men will get bored of you if you are too predictable. If you are unpredictable it is exciting to them plus scares them a little too. They will wonder why you are different.
· Don't talk so much.
· Mirror how he acts to bring him closer. Say your man is a bit distant; my natural inclination is to wonder what is wrong, try and talk to him etc. That is clingy, a better way to behave is mirror that - be busy doing your own things, happy but busy and let him come looking for you when he comes out of his cave.
· Be feminine in everything you do - surround yourself with reminders of your femininity - i.e. a pink phone cover.
· Be the receiver not the giver.
· Let him think up ideas, with your subtle input.
· Hardly ever text or call him at work, unless you need him to pick up something.
· Dress up every day for no reason.
· Smile.
· Always be levelling up.
· Have a plan B.
· Don't tell him your plans for the day or where you have been - be a little mysterious and let him wonder what you've been up to.
· Keep the mystery alive with privacy - closet, bathroom etc.
· Don't do everything together.
· Have hobbies and interests of your own.
· Make him feel like a man by asking his advice, seeking help from him, not trying to tell him what to do etc.
· Keep up with new trends and the latest styles. Try new looks, buy new clothes, look cute.
· Make him feel younger by being fresh, new and exciting.
· Be excited by life and easily impressed.
· Go on vacation, go out to places.
· Do new things and turn him on to new things. Do new things in bed.
· Change your looks - look different, be different.
· Listen to the latest music.
· Keep up with the latest trends in things.
· Be an exciting adventure.
· Be happy go lucky, not a care in the world, everything is fun.
· Head up, chin up, look around, smile.
· Get all excited when you talk about little things.
· Light up when you talk to people.
· Bring a high energy.
· Wear your hair long and straight or smooth-wavy.
· Be seasonal - with your look/outfit, eating, décor.
· Reinvent yourself regularly.
· Play different characters for fun.
· Channel someone else when you go out.
· Be constantly changing and improving.
· Be a lively woman - bubbly, happy, exciting, smiling, lifts their spirits, fun to be around.
· Grab his hand and pull him along like a child.
· Be energetic and breathe life into others.
· Mirror his body language about 10-30 seconds later.
· Try new things, new looks.
· Practice your charm on waiters etc.
· Be a people watcher in different environments depending on the lifestyle you desire.
· Look from the outside in - how do people view you? How attractive are you?
· Transform yourself.
· Be his ultimate fantasy girl.
· Look good, do your makeup every day.
· Speak to your him as if he is a person and not a child.
· ‘Can you help me/lift that/get me a blanket?’ in a baby voice. Get him used to looking after you. ‘This is too heavy for me, I can’t reach it’. Do this three times a day minimum.
· Ask for what you want in a feminine way.
· Use the baby voice.
· Be extra feminine.
· Be charming – smile, don’t argue – agree (but do exactly what you want anyway).
· Ask for help from men.
· When you are offered anything, accept it.
· Talk to men in a feminine nature.
· Practice being feminine and flirty every do so that it becomes second nature to you – it will become easier with practice.
· Ask questions and smile.
· Play a bit dumb (not stupid; request their knowledge).
· Use your feminine charm on everyone around you – practice on any man to get better.
· Never get too comfortable (don’t let yourself go).
· Keep the illusion going – makeup, hair, lotion, fragrance.
· Look like you did when you first met (me: 66-67kg, long blonde hair, stylish clothes).
· Men are visual creatures and your hair is foremost – long, silky and straight.
· Have your makeup on, look cute.
· Shera’s husband treated her differently when she gained weight and then lost weight.
· Shera’s advice to a lady who gained 40 pounds and now her husband isn’t attracted to her: ‘Lose 40 pounds’.
· Still look sexy even if you’ve been together a while.
· Exfoliate your face and body.
· Have glowing, moisturised skin.
· Use highlighter on your face.
· Wear perfume, body lotion, nicely scented products.
· Wear red lipstick, eye makeup.
· Wear light, modern perfumes.
· Have simple, nice nails.
· Tell him that whatever you want is your ‘ultimate fantasy’.
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If you want to be married to a rich man, dress like a rich man’s wife.
~~
Be unbothered
It’s so amazing to just not care. You have no idea how much better your life gets when you stop caring. When you stop caring about stuff that’s not beneficial to you, everything blossoms, everything. Because your attention is no longer on anything negative, it’s all on you, and so you blossom.
How to keep your man chasing you? Be busy, don’t call him all the time. Have a hobby or a business and let him have to go looking for you.
~~
Did you ever feel insecure about your weight?
“No.
At any weight my mental game was tight, it was good. I could get anything I wanted, so it never really held me back. The only thing that would ever make me feel insecure about anything is… I really don’t have a lot of insecurities anymore. I had the normal insecurities of a child. But when I grew up and I understood that you could take your power from any situation, you no longer have insecurities.
If I was insecure about my weight, I wouldn’t be up here on YouTube, and if someone says something about how I look, I don’t care. I say Okay yeah and so what? I’m eating good, I’m living good. It doesn’t bother me, because that’s not what defines me. I’m gonna get paid skinny or fat. I’m gonna be happy at whatever makes me feel happiest. So it’s all about how you feel about yourself and how you value yourself. You don’t base your self-worth on what other people think about you.
And the reason why I teach people you gotta look good if you want to turn heads and make men cross the room is because if you are trying to get a date, yes, you have to be concerned with what other people find attractive. But that should not ever play a role in your own personal self-esteem.
Whatever you need to feel good at the time, tomorrow or today, that’s what you need to be doing.”
~~
submitted by Radiant_Security_173 to SheraSeven [link] [comments]
~~
How do you become the prize?
If you don’t start as the prize, then you aren’t the prize. If you don’t know if your mind that you are already the prize then you can never be the prize.
~~
How to be more feminine so I can be spoiled more?
It’s a lifestyle. You have to act, fake it until you make it, and create a lifestyle. The days that you don’t feel very feminine are the days that you have to use more of your masculine energy.
Remember to always have a space to come back to that is feminine, and recharge yourself with feminine energy. Create a more feminine environment, wear more feminine clothes, listen to music that is going to help your femininity instead of diminishing it.
Keep things that you like to do feminine and do feminine things. Going shopping, getting your nails or hair done, buying shoes, picking out décor for our rooms, decorating tables, going on picnics, watching girly movies.
Recharge yourself by doing some of those things. You need to be able to recharge your femininity at least once or twice a week.
~~
Live the type of life you want already. It may not be on the scale that you want to live it at, but it needs to be a version of it. For example, if you want to live a soft, feminine life make sure your current life reflects that: your current environment, the current way you dress, the current way you walk, talk and act.
The more you receive, the better treatment you receive, if you can get a provider who can let you live a more feminine life, a softer life, then it's just going to get better and better.
But already live the life you want to live, that way they can only improve you and they see how you treat yourself and see what you like and that’s what they are going to be giving you. Your goals will be met just by dating.
~~
What are some ways to keep him interested in he provides well?
Look good
Make sure you know what his interest are
Talk to him
Make sure he feels like he is the man
Look good when you are out with him
Make sure you are pretty and heads turn ‘ooh who’s he with’
His self-esteem will skyrocket when you go out with him if you look good and he’s not going to want to leave that
~~
Men like women to switch it up as long as it’s classy.
~~
Flower attract bees to them by their bright colours and they smell good. Attract men to you:
· Wear bright pretty colours
· Smell good
· Look fresh, dewy and youthful
· Look attractive
Look like the prize. Look like his fantasy. Look through his eyes: what would he like to see?
It’s not that complicated. Bring it back down to simplicity? What do men like?
Heels
Skirts
Dresses
Makeup
Long hair
Red lipstick
Baby voice
Feminine colours
Make them feel good
Give them compliments
Let them talk
Don’t talk about your boring stuff – they don’t care
Use the formula to get success with men.
~~
If you want to dress casual in jeans and a cute top, still wear heels, hair, full makeup. If you’re going to wear jeans, you’re going to need to wear heels.
Also think about this: what sort of man are you attracting. If you wear jeans when you meet you’re going to get taken to a jeans date. Dress for the life you want.
~~
Comment:
When we had a fight I cut my hair short & bangs & went shopping. He was so glad he said “you look like a different person!” The fight was forgotten & he treated me new again & took me shopping again.
~~
"Life is fun! (...) life is a movie, life is a stage. Get into character... "
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Men don’t care about anything else but what you look like and how you make them feel.
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If you’ve let yourself go, level yourself up to the point that their jaw will drop when they see you.
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The only limitations are the ones you believe in.
~~
What do rich men’s wives all have in common besides being pretty?
They’re feminine
They’re classy
They’re not loud and obnoxious
They don’t outshine their husband
They hold back and keep it together in public
They are well proportioned
Shera had a friend who was a little rachet, and she ended up marrying wealthy. She had to totally change everything about herself:
The way she dressed
The way she wore her hair
The way she spoke
The kind of shoes she wore
Her makeup
She had to change it all
How she acted around people
How she spoke to men
She had to change everything
It’s not that she changed who she was inside or her personality
It’s that she changed who she was around men
There’s a difference
~~
Your stock should go up after you get married, not down. If your stock is not rising after marriage you’re doing it backwards. That means still investing into yourself, your beauty, your clothing, into your stash (money, wealth and investments). If you got married and your stock plummeted, that’s your fault.
~~
Loving yourself means putting yourself first as a priority. Knowing your worth and value and not taking any crap from anybody because you value yourself, you love yourself. That’s all loving yourself means. And not talking down about yourself. And knowing that you deserve what you want in life.
Once you do that other people will as well – men, co- workers, your boss, parents, spouse, brother, sister, cousin, whoever. Whoever is in your life at the moment will recognise that you love yourself and that you don’t have to submit to them or that you’re not desperate for their approval. In fact they may start to be desperate for your approval. So make sure you’re putting yourself first.
Don’t be always talking about the other person and what they want or what they think. Don’t care who they are. Don’t care about other people or their spouse or the person they’re interested in. It’s not about them, it’s about you. If they can’t recognise you and they don’t like you, then you are wasting time.
If you have to sit there and be puzzled about why someone is not responding properly or why they’re not doing this or that, it means they don’t like you so just move on and stop trying to waste time worrying about it. You already know that in the back of your mind; you’re just hoping for a different outcome that there won’t be.
Make sure that when you realise you are putting other people before yourself as a priority then you’re not going to get the type of man or people attracted to you that you need. When you can get somebody in the click of a finger and they’re not used to that it means you are valuable and that they are not necessary. They are very unnecessary and therefore they feel like you have even more value because you don’t need them. You don’t need them, they need you. That’s why they seek you out. That’s why they call you, that’s why they ask you out.
Make sure you’re not getting caught up in silliness. If they’re not putting you first, you’re gone. Or you put them on ice; that means you let them figure it out and when they start acting right again then you allow them back into your life. If you’re chasing behind someone, if you’re worrying about someone who ghosts you then you’re not putting yourself first.
And that means you don’t love yourself. A lot of people were taught to act a certain way – not cocky etc – if you don’t, all people see you as is a doormat. You can let down your guards later when they are fully invested in you and aren’t going anywhere, but until that happens they are there to impress you.
~~
How do you fall in love with yourself when you aren’t happy with yourself?
Become happy with yourself:
· Do things that make you happy
· Look the way you need to look
· Continue to do this every day until you are happy
Only you can make you happy
~~
Don’t go out there lookin’ like Plain Jane. Plain Jane gets passed by with the eye.
~~
The key is confidence. You can learn all you want, if you don’t have confidence you can’t pull it off. The key is confidence, knowing your value, and not listening to no dusties. That’s the key, that’s the masterclass right there – be confident.
Be main character energy. Stop caring what people think. Have a goal of what you want and go for it and don’t stop until you get it. Speak positive about yourself and stop dealing with dusties. That’s just it. You do all those things and you’re going to have something. You’re going to get what you’re looking for. That’s it.
~~
It’s not what you look like – it’s how you make them feel.
Are you going to make them feel young again?
Are you going to make life exciting for them?
Do they enjoy being with you?
Do they like being seen out in public with you?
~~
Shera, on when you talk about all your feelings and prior history:
“You’re being an informant on yourself. You’re telling on yourself. You’re giving out all your secrets and revealing everything. So that’s definitely not feminine energy, because feminine energy is naturally dark. You know, it’s water, it’s the cosmos, it’s that. So when you’re revealing everything, when nothing is unknown and everything is known, now you’re masculine. Because that’s light- everything is known. So the more you say, the more you tell, the more you open up, the more masculine you become in that energy, and the less mystery and femininity and feminine allure you have, because now you’re an open book. And they have all the clues to how the story ends and how to manipulate the character.”
~~
“Feminine energy is naturally dark, is water, is the cosmos, is that. So, when you are revealing everything, nothing is unknown and everything is known, now you’re more masculine, because that is light, everything is known.
So the more you say, the more you tell, the more you open up, the more masculine you become in that energy, and the less mystery and femininity and feminine allure you have because now you are an open book, you’re predictable.
And they have all the clues to how the story ends and how to manipulate the character.”
~~
Get them to worry about you, while you worry about you.
~~
How do you find your purpose? You create it.
~~
Leveling up is actually a lot of fun when you are present and mindful about it it’s probably be the best gift you could ever give yourself as a woman.
~~
Stop caring what other people think and live the life you want to live. If you don’t like kissing people’s butts, don’t kiss their butt.
~~
A lot of women don’t realise that if you just get into your feminine, and you stick with your standards, you can get what you ask for.
~~
How to become detached and unbothered?
Stop caring. When you care too much, that’s when you can’t detach and be unbothered. Stop caring, become ‘take it or leave it’. That’s your attitude. You will be fine with it or without it.
~~
Comment:
Three years ago I was getting yelled at a public train station (which we had to take because neither of us had a car) by my dusty disgusting ex. I lived in a cheap apartment with four unsavory roomates and their boyfriends. Now I live in a luxury high rise with a conceirge and valet. All I did today was get a facial, sit by the pool and shop. I don’t have to worry about a SINGLE THING and every man in my life treats me like a queen. I’m truly breaking generational curses; my dad left my mom with four kids alone while she worked at Denny’s waitressing overnight. If it weren’t for Shera’s wisdom I don’t know where I would be today but I just give thanks every day that I saw the light. This is my one and only life so why shouldn’t I be living peacefully and bougie.
It’s crazy how fast life can chance when you realize your worth and act on it. Keep on inching further and further; the more luxurious things you do the more the rest of your life catches up. It literally started with me going to the expensive nail salon instead of the cheap one. Then I felt like I deserved more. I moved into a nicer apartment that was out of my budget at first, then a nicer car, then I started buying designer bags and now I live in an ultra-luxurious place. Small steps and the rest of your life will catch up in time. Of course look your best every day and be healthy. And do not give a second of your time to anyone who does not treat you with respect, remember if they’re not adding to your life they are taking away.
The universe somehow just opened up and rains abundance on me. The more you surround yourself with the vibrations of prosperity the more it will be drawn to you. Ella Ringrose on YouTube helped me a lot to draw in money.
~~
Comment:
Shera ever since I started watching you I have levelled up my life completely. I lost 50 pounds and changed my whole look to be more feminine. My husband was so motivated he started making more money and bought me a home and my dream car. He does everything I want now and he feels proud to bring me home his paycheck. I no longer work and just workout every day and focus on my children. A lot of my family members don’t understand this life but I am very happy and comfortable.
~~
If you give yourself away too easily, your value is low.
~~
10 Important Habits of a Gold Digger
1)high standards
2)high self-esteem
3)perspective
4)purpose
5)options
6)be unapologetic
7)looks
8)business plan
9) knowledge/value of money
10)stay unbothered
~~
‘Busy patterns that aren’t classy make you look older’. You can show how classy your clothing is by the cut, colour and pattern, not the brand or designer.
Look to magazines for style inspiration:
O magazine = for older women
Instyle = more youthful
~~
Comment:
Men need respect, they don’t want your love.
~~
Wealthy men like women who are thin, feminine, and classy, or classy/sexy.
~~
Classic = classy. Dress in a way that you wouldn’t look crazy in a photo in 20 years time.
~~
‘We’re not trying to fit in, we’re trying to stand out.’
~~
Comment:
Looking beautiful, adore your blouse and that classy backdrop. I have earrings very similar. I have to go out now, I’m over 60 and always look stylish heading out the door . Make up and a cute dress today. You never know who is at the coffee shop 😊
~~
Be cute, be feminine, don’t talk so much. Let him do the hard work.
~~
‘You’re not his momma stop acting like it’ video
Women will turn into their man's mother without realizing it! Then he will run.
A lot of times when a woman has been in a relationship for a long time or is married, they start acting like a mother to the man without even realising it. To avoid that, do these things:
· Totally change everything – change how you dress, put more makeup on, wear heels.
· Act ten years younger.
· Don’t be concerned about the things you used to be concerned about.
· Let everything be free and fly.
· If you once worried about dishes in the sink don’t worry about it anymore.
· Change it up.
· If he realises that you stop caring and you just put all that extra energy that you were nagging and trying to organise and keep stuff right or that you were frustrated about – if you took all that extra energy and put it back into yourself – and you stopped worrying about the house and the domestic issues and him doing this, this and that. He’s going to think, ‘Well dang, everything is out of order, now she’s dressing like this and putting on makeup and looking this way, and the dishes aren’t clean anymore, or she’s not nagging me about picking up my clothes and the room is a mess’, then either he’ll get up and do it or he’ll start turning into your father.
· You mirror what they do and they’re gonna start seeing what you are doing by you have to act that way with them.
· You stop cleaning dishes, you start leaving your stuff on the floor.
· You start dressing cute, and say you’re going out.
· You forget to do stuff, or you stop helping out because you don’t want to damage your nails or the Real Housewives is on.
· Start doing the same thing to him – he watches sport, you say, ‘Oh Housewives is on, I wanna watch it. I don’t wanna watch it later.’
· You don’t do any of this like it’s revenge, just like you joined him in not being responsible, or joined him with more relaxed rules.
· He might like it. He might be like ‘you’re so laid back, you look happy today’.
· Then he might start cleaning up more because it’s not an order.
· But as long as you’re happy and not nagging him, he’s going to do it voluntarily.
~~
How you act and how you make him feel will give you more power to get what you want.
· Look good
· Be more feminine
· Speak softly
· Smile
· Laugh at whatever he is saying and make him feel good about who he is
· Let him talk more than you
· Feed his ego
· Act vulnerable and he will want to do things for you, will want to please and impress you
(I added:
· Ladylike, dainty, girlish, delicate, compassionate, considerate, sympathetic, tolerant, warm-hearted, gracious
· Calm, refined and tasteful
· Agreeable, friendly, good-natured,
· Kind, moral, pleasant, delightful)
That’s how you get what you want.
Our power is in our femininity, not in our masculinity, not in being in competition with a man, but making them weak because we are giving them exactly what no-one else does and so they’re not used to it and they yield to it and want more of it and they’re going to do what you want.
Being feminine is the key to getting what you want. There is no magic formula; it’s just ‘being feminine’. Work on that and you will get what you want. Work on your baby voice. Work on asking men for things and help, feeling vulnerable around them and stroking their ego and you can pretty much get what you want, especially if you choose the right target. Don’t go up and choose someone who has a thousand options, go up and choose someone who feels lucky to be with you and who will act accordingly.
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Men don’t like jealous women. You look insecure if you show jealousy. If you feel jealous, act like you don’t care – laugh it off.
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Men don’t like to be told what to do or have someone running their life. They don’t need you to offer them suggestions – this will just make them feel like a child, emasculated and they will rebel.
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Have a hobby and have a life.
Have your own life.
Make yourself number one.
Make sure he likes you more than you like him. If he really likes you he is going to chase you and not let you go, and you don’t even have to do anything to make this happen.
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I am not a people pleaser. I live for myself not others. And that’s how you have to be to be unbothered. Be unbothered always and you will live your best life.
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I live in a fantasy world every day. That’s why I can create the world that I want.
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A dream woman is motivation for a man in every way. If you no longer motivate him, you are no longer his dream woman.
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A good actress will melt into her role.
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Instead of waiting and having regret later, make the decision now to do what’s best for you, not what’s best for the outside world and what they think. Do what’s best for you in the long run, not what’s best for you right now in this one moment which will pass. Think ahead. Right now is gone. As soon as you think about it, it’s gone.
~~
To be a dream woman and to be worshipped by the man you are with, you have to stay focused on you. Don’t be about him. A man’s dream woman does not mean she is all over him. She has a life. Keep a healthy distance instead of being extra clingy. That way you stay on his level. Make sure you appeal to his friends (in a classy way) too. He will see that others appreciate you and know that he has the prize.
~~
“Put outfits together in your mind when negative people are talking.”
~~
How to be unbothered?
Comments:
‘Fake it till you make it. That’s what happened with me I started to pretend that it didn’t bother me. Now I’m literally so unbothered and focused on myself.’
‘When you are showing that you’re upset or bothered, you are giving them power to know they affected you. I love everyone but I do not argue. I have trained myself not to get emotional even at my husband or family. Being this way also makes you more respected, it’s part of your charisma.’
‘Being unbothered is a choice.’
~~
Comment:
If you're over 35 the best ways to look young is to drink a gallon of water a day....it's good for wrinkles..and helps your makeup glide on like butter.
Eat less and eat as much green as you can (Kale, Broccoli, Spinach) so you can be as slim as possible so that you feel good in your clothes....
Work out to increase your confidence...
Dress your age....nothing worse than a woman who dresses out of her age range...makes you look like you're trying too hard...
~~
Build confidence by not accepting that you have low self-esteem. Every day improve yourself so your self-esteem gets higher and higher. Don’t wallow in it, don’t accept it. Every day tell yourself what you want:
I look good
I feel good
I’m great
Tell yourself that. Give other people compliments, and they will give you compliments. Before you know it, you’ll have high self-esteem. You have to work on it, it doesn’t come automatically. It took a long time to tear down your self-esteem, and it takes a moment to pull it back up.
Just work on it, keep moving forward. Don’t let anyone put you down again.
~~
How to keep your husband interested
· Less communication
· Less giving of information
· Spend more time apart
· Don’t get so close that he is going to want to back up
· You have to get close then back up, get close then back up again
· Look your best at all times
· Don’t smother people and they won’t try to escape you
· Have a life
· Have things to do
· Have a to-do list that does not require that person
Go out and do things. He will appreciate you more when you get back. He will wonder what you’ve been doing. He will anticipate your return.
Don’t let him conquer you. When men have conquered a woman, they will move on. If he doesn’t feel like he can ever conquer you, he will try harder. Never let him feel like he totally has you.
~~
Masculine people (men or women) tend to run to the rescue of others.
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Shera, on uplevelling your looks and being your best every time you step out the front door: Don’t let life pass you by. Life is short. Life is very short.
Comment on Shera’s video: My mom went through a season where she dressed up and it just made our whole family and home come alive. I remember when my mom walked into the living room all fixed up and my little cousin's eyes just lit up. He said be careful don't touch her lol. He literally went from seeing her as a plain ol’ aunt to a princess. He was so young, but he couldn't fake it; that was his instincts.
~~
· It’s not about looking young, it’s about looking good.
· If you miss an opportunity to be levelling up, you are only cheating yourself.
· Stay ready.
· Every day do something to improve yourself - hair, exercise, mindset, self-esteem
· Enjoy getting ready – be creative
· If you’re wearing makeup, go bold. Men want to see the makeup.
· Men like it when you look your best. When you’re out in public, people are judging a man’s status by the type of wife he has, how she looks. You add status to any man that you are with.
· If you are attractive, you will have a lot of friends inviting you out. They will use you to attract attention because you look good. They are going to gravitate towards you and associate you with success. Your appearance will get you further than almost anything else.
~~
When you’re trying to lure a man in, dress for that man. Men do pay attention to what you look like.
Broke men pay attention to your silhouette. They look at your body because they just want to have sex with you.
Men with money pay attention to what you wear: your clothes, your shoes, your jewellery, your shoes, your hair, everything. Are you appropriate? If he wants to take it to the next level and take you out and get to know you, start a relationship, introduce you to his friends, he isn’t just looking at your body.
~~
The better you look, the more successful he looks.
~~
Men are visual creatures. Everything men do is based on that they see. How they treat you is based on what they see.
If you go without makeup, hair not done, and dressed badly, you won’t get the same treatment even by the people who see you every day. When you look good, the people around you have a little bit more respect for you. They see you looking pulled together and to see you any other way is foreign to them.
When you are levelled up, keep this in mind, don’t backslide. When a man meets you looking good, he wants to see you like that for your entire marriage. He doesn’t want you to let yourself go.
Try hard to keep yourself up during your marriage; how you looked when you met him is how he wants to see you forever more.
Men are very visual creatures, so when they see us looking bad, it upsets them. It literally makes them clench inside a little bit because they are so affected by the visual.
You are like a Christmas tree or a beautiful ornament. It’s a pleasure to look at you and they’ll want to be around you just for that.
People may treat you badly because you didn’t keep up your looks - a man could be speaking to another woman or ignoring you.
~~
“Just act and dress like a feminine lady. You’re making them feel younger by being in their presence. Watch 1950s Hollywood movie stars to watch how those ladies acted.”
Never help a man level up as they will always put you in a maternal role and look at you as a mother figure.
How to change your mindset:
1. Tell yourself that you are no longer allowing people to make you feel bad about something – that’s your choice.
2. Decide that you want to be better, and each day take action towards being better. Your self-esteem will rise from this.
3. Surround yourself with like-minded people so you can influence and help each other.
~~
People who talk less are generally more well respected.
~~
“Look for the positive in every negative comment or situation, and you will find it every time.
Whatever your weakness is, make it your strength, to fuel you to the next level. That’s how you really level up from inside. Face your weakness head on. If someone calls you fat, flaunt it. Say, ‘So what? Yes, I eat, I haven’t seen a rib in many decades, but I’m happy. I got a lovely husband, nice house, nice car.’
Instead of being a victim about it, empower yourself with it. Your flaw can be your power. It can be your power if you take it and embrace it and stop focusing on it as an insecurity. The more you focus on something as an insecurity, the more other people will focus on it because they know it’s your weakness and that’s how you get affected. Whatever your flaw is, turn it into something that can give you more than it can take from you. If people say it’s a flaw, take it and turn it into a power.”
~~
Don’t listen to what people say; what do you think? Opposition creates interest.
~~
· Be extra feminine in the way you dress, speak, act.
· Be charming - smile, don't argue (and then do exactly what you were going to do anyway).
· Ask for help from your man - opening a jar, lifting something, reaching up high, anything - they love it. Do this three times a day. Say things like 'It's too heavy for me'. Doing this makes them feel protective of you.
· When you are offered help, accept it.
· Talk to men in a feminine baby-voice.
· Practice being feminine and flirty every day to men everywhere so that it becomes second nature. Things such as asking a man for assistance at the supermarket and smiling and saying thank you in a feminine voice.
· Use your feminine charm on everyone around you.
· Look your best, put on makeup every day, smell good, be well groomed, have nice nails.
· Speak to him as if he's a person and not a child - don't try to control him. Mothers control their children and men don't want to have sex with their mother.
· Ask for what you want, but do it in a feminine way.
· Act like the prize to be the prize.
· Be unpredictable - men will get bored of you if you are too predictable. If you are unpredictable it is exciting to them plus scares them a little too. They will wonder why you are different.
· Don't talk so much.
· Mirror how he acts to bring him closer. Say your man is a bit distant; my natural inclination is to wonder what is wrong, try and talk to him etc. That is clingy, a better way to behave is mirror that - be busy doing your own things, happy but busy and let him come looking for you when he comes out of his cave.
· Be feminine in everything you do - surround yourself with reminders of your femininity - i.e. a pink phone cover.
· Be the receiver not the giver.
· Let him think up ideas, with your subtle input.
· Hardly ever text or call him at work, unless you need him to pick up something.
· Dress up every day for no reason.
· Smile.
· Always be levelling up.
· Have a plan B.
· Don't tell him your plans for the day or where you have been - be a little mysterious and let him wonder what you've been up to.
· Keep the mystery alive with privacy - closet, bathroom etc.
· Don't do everything together.
· Have hobbies and interests of your own.
· Make him feel like a man by asking his advice, seeking help from him, not trying to tell him what to do etc.
· Keep up with new trends and the latest styles. Try new looks, buy new clothes, look cute.
· Make him feel younger by being fresh, new and exciting.
· Be excited by life and easily impressed.
· Go on vacation, go out to places.
· Do new things and turn him on to new things. Do new things in bed.
· Change your looks - look different, be different.
· Listen to the latest music.
· Keep up with the latest trends in things.
· Be an exciting adventure.
· Be happy go lucky, not a care in the world, everything is fun.
· Head up, chin up, look around, smile.
· Get all excited when you talk about little things.
· Light up when you talk to people.
· Bring a high energy.
· Wear your hair long and straight or smooth-wavy.
· Be seasonal - with your look/outfit, eating, décor.
· Reinvent yourself regularly.
· Play different characters for fun.
· Channel someone else when you go out.
· Be constantly changing and improving.
· Be a lively woman - bubbly, happy, exciting, smiling, lifts their spirits, fun to be around.
· Grab his hand and pull him along like a child.
· Be energetic and breathe life into others.
· Mirror his body language about 10-30 seconds later.
· Try new things, new looks.
· Practice your charm on waiters etc.
· Be a people watcher in different environments depending on the lifestyle you desire.
· Look from the outside in - how do people view you? How attractive are you?
· Transform yourself.
· Be his ultimate fantasy girl.
· Look good, do your makeup every day.
· Speak to your him as if he is a person and not a child.
· ‘Can you help me/lift that/get me a blanket?’ in a baby voice. Get him used to looking after you. ‘This is too heavy for me, I can’t reach it’. Do this three times a day minimum.
· Ask for what you want in a feminine way.
· Use the baby voice.
· Be extra feminine.
· Be charming – smile, don’t argue – agree (but do exactly what you want anyway).
· Ask for help from men.
· When you are offered anything, accept it.
· Talk to men in a feminine nature.
· Practice being feminine and flirty every do so that it becomes second nature to you – it will become easier with practice.
· Ask questions and smile.
· Play a bit dumb (not stupid; request their knowledge).
· Use your feminine charm on everyone around you – practice on any man to get better.
· Never get too comfortable (don’t let yourself go).
· Keep the illusion going – makeup, hair, lotion, fragrance.
· Look like you did when you first met (me: 66-67kg, long blonde hair, stylish clothes).
· Men are visual creatures and your hair is foremost – long, silky and straight.
· Have your makeup on, look cute.
· Shera’s husband treated her differently when she gained weight and then lost weight.
· Shera’s advice to a lady who gained 40 pounds and now her husband isn’t attracted to her: ‘Lose 40 pounds’.
· Still look sexy even if you’ve been together a while.
· Exfoliate your face and body.
· Have glowing, moisturised skin.
· Use highlighter on your face.
· Wear perfume, body lotion, nicely scented products.
· Wear red lipstick, eye makeup.
· Wear light, modern perfumes.
· Have simple, nice nails.
· Tell him that whatever you want is your ‘ultimate fantasy’.
~~
If you want to be married to a rich man, dress like a rich man’s wife.
~~
Be unbothered
It’s so amazing to just not care. You have no idea how much better your life gets when you stop caring. When you stop caring about stuff that’s not beneficial to you, everything blossoms, everything. Because your attention is no longer on anything negative, it’s all on you, and so you blossom.
How to keep your man chasing you? Be busy, don’t call him all the time. Have a hobby or a business and let him have to go looking for you.
~~
Did you ever feel insecure about your weight?
“No.
At any weight my mental game was tight, it was good. I could get anything I wanted, so it never really held me back. The only thing that would ever make me feel insecure about anything is… I really don’t have a lot of insecurities anymore. I had the normal insecurities of a child. But when I grew up and I understood that you could take your power from any situation, you no longer have insecurities.
If I was insecure about my weight, I wouldn’t be up here on YouTube, and if someone says something about how I look, I don’t care. I say Okay yeah and so what? I’m eating good, I’m living good. It doesn’t bother me, because that’s not what defines me. I’m gonna get paid skinny or fat. I’m gonna be happy at whatever makes me feel happiest. So it’s all about how you feel about yourself and how you value yourself. You don’t base your self-worth on what other people think about you.
And the reason why I teach people you gotta look good if you want to turn heads and make men cross the room is because if you are trying to get a date, yes, you have to be concerned with what other people find attractive. But that should not ever play a role in your own personal self-esteem.
Whatever you need to feel good at the time, tomorrow or today, that’s what you need to be doing.”
~~
2024.05.19 20:13 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
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My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
2024.05.19 20:13 Perkelton Weekly Crowdfunding Roundup: May 19 2024 18 ending soon (incl. Dark Cities) & 30 new this week (incl. Feudum, 2024 Crokinole Board Season 8)
What is this?
This is a weekly crowdfunding roundup of new projects launched last week and projects that end the coming week.Google Docs
As an alternative format, the lists are now also available as a Google Docs found here: Weekly Crowdfunding RoundupUpdates
Expect new lists every Sunday between 00:00 and 23:59 CEST on the following platforms:Mastodon: @danielpervan@mastodon.social
Discord: https://discord.gg/dN4P4PZcU9
Reddit: /boardgames
Selection criteria
The criteria for the lists are as follows:Ending soon
- Sorted by number of backers
- Kickstarter projects ending in the next 7 days, that have at least 100 backers (or marked as "Project we love" by Kickstarter), will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and passed the filters:
- No DnD books
- No zines
- No 3D printing
- No dice sets
- No magazines
- No shirts
- No playmats
- No furniture
- No events
- Gamefound projects ending in the next 7 days, that will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and passed the above filters.
- (beta) Backerkit Crowdfunding projects ending in the next 7 days, that will have reached more than estimated 95% of their goal by their deadline and have a matching BGG page.
Newly launched
- Sorted by number of backers
- Kickstarter projects launched in the last 7 days, that have had at least average 15 backers per day, have at least 100 backers or is marked as "Project we love" by Kickstarter and passed the filters (see above).
- Gamefound projects launched in the last 7 days and passed the filters (see above).
- (beta) Backerkit Crowdfunding projects launched in the last 7 days and have a matching BGG page.
Notable filtered projects
- Filtered projects from above lists that have more than 1000 backers.
Tags
🎉: Staff pick/featured💰: Funded
🔥: More than average 200 backers/day
🌱: Creator's first project
🌳: Creator's >5th project
🔄: Money back guarantee (Read more)
FAQ
I live in Cuba/Canada/Haiti/USA, why are you posting on a Saturday?!Because I'm writing this from Europe in the future where it's already Sunday. Timezones be crazy.
Why are there a bunch of non-board games in the board game list?
Because the Tabletop games category on Kickstarter includes anything remotely related to board games and sometimes things slip through my filters.
Why is this future award winning board game and literal saviour of humanity missing from your list?
Sometimes my filters get a bit overzealous and discard actually valid projects. If you feel something is missing for this reason, leave a comment and I'll add it (maybe).
Can I donate all my money to you?
No
Can you help me promote my game?
Please no. I make lists. Nothing more.
Your list is full of errors and now the great old ones have awaken!
Indeed, this fine piece of code runs purely on faith, trust and pixie dust, so anything can happen. Leave a comment and I'll see what I can do.
Ending soon (18)
| Name | Description | Backers | Pledged | Ends | Information | Tags | BGG |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Dark Cities | Deluxe Editions | Five games of social deduction & light strategy for up to 9 players. Deluxe book boxes include upgraded components & mini expansions. | 2982 | $321,124.00 (1284%) in 20 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter | 🎉💰🌳 | |
| LONG DARK SEA | Long Dark Sea is a cooperative adventure card game for 1-4 players focused on exploration and combat where deckbuilding and resource management are their main mechanics. Venture into the unknown with your pirate crew in search of ancient relics in a Sci-fi universe. | 1006 | €136,749.40 (228%) in 19 days | 2024-05-21 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑4 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 40-60 min. Card Game Dice Game Deck Building Cooperative | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| Hannibal & Hamilcar + Metal Minis | Hannibal: Classic Edition by one of the most acclaimed game designers in the world, Mark Simonitch. | 972 | €102,134.25 (340%) in 6 days | 2024-05-24 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 2 players ⏱️ 120 min. Card Game Wargame Dice Game Area Control | 💰🌳 | |
| Picky Eaters: Ultimate Collection | A delectably devious game for 2-6 players. | 681 | $50,546.00 (1011%) in 27 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑6 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 20-40 min. | 🎉💰 | BGG |
| Apistocracy | You're invited to make your season debut in a game that blends worker placement and trick-taking with the delights of Victorian London. | 646 | $55,877.00 (559%) in 27 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 40-80 min. | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| Park Life 🇬🇧 🇨🇦 🇪🇺 | Cozy trick-taking game. A celebration of public spaces and cute hedgehogs! 🦔🦔🦔 | 461 | $13,854.00 (13854%) in 27 days | 2024-05-22 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑5 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 15-30 min. | 🎉💰 | BGG |
| Long Live Backyardia! | A modular expansion for the award-nominated Trick-Taking and Mancala board game Bug Council of Backyardia! | 454 | ¥2,447,309 (489%) in 20 days | 2024-05-21 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 3‑5 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 30-40 min. | 💰 | BGG |
| AI 100% Human - Boardgame | Innovative drafting game with a reserve and immediate scoring, all structured around building a tableau. | 370 | €24,480.00 (245%) in 20 days | 2024-05-24 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑6 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-45 min. | 💰🌳 | BGG |
| Nanga Parbat: Animal Powers | A promo pack for Dr. Finn's Nanga Parbat to add even more strategy and fun to an already awesome game. | 320 | $4,223.00 (422%) in 12 days | 2024-05-22 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-40 min. | 🎉💰🌳 | BGG |
| Cosmic Chains | A tactical dueling card game of cats and robots. Build the longest satellite chain to provide the best network coverage! | 293 | $8,739.00 (175%) in 19 days | 2024-05-26 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 30-40 min. | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| DragonStrike | Mount your Dragon and ride into aerial combat in this fast paced but deviously cunning Board Game, using beautiful pre-painted Dragons! | 261 | $49,705.00 (124%) in 27 days | 2024-05-25 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰 | |
| Potion Crafter | Alchemy calls! Fill the shelves of your magic shop with unique potions in this roll and write, print and play strategy board game. | 251 | €2,762.00 (2762%) in 14 days | 2024-05-21 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑6 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 20-40 min. | 💰 | BGG |
| Renters + Parking Expansion (Print & Play) | Renters, is a roll & write boardgame in which we will have to host groups of up to 5 people in our building, according to a roll of the dice. But our building requires repair the elevator, air conditioning and wifi. | 225 | €2,117.45 (4235%) in 45 days | 2024-05-20 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑10 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 20-30 min. Dice Game | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| Dungeon Rooms with FLAVOR | A deck of geomorphic dungeon rooms cards with... flavor! | 205 | €2,986.00 (299%) in 11 days | 2024-05-24 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌳 | |
| Treasures Lost | Navigate wisely across the uncharted lands. Choose your path and find the lost treasures! | Fantasy | PnP | Roll n write | Dungeon | | 198 | NZ$4,313.00 (431%) in 27 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑99 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 15-30 min. | 💰🌳 | BGG |
| Paycheck to Billionaire: Board Game Meets Financial Freedom | Start with a Paycheck, Manage Daily Bills, Invest Smartly, from Startup to Business Empire. ----A Game Changer, not only in the Game. | 189 | $6,500.00 (130%) in 27 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑6 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 20-60 min. | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| [Micro May] Roll A Coaster Park - Print and Play | Build paths, rides and stalls and attract guests to your new roller coaster park in this roll and write game. | 148 | £1,465.00 (1465%) in 20 days | 2024-05-21 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌱 | |
| Post Necrone : The Party Wanted Necromancer Expansion! | Experience Deck-Building, Roguelike Exploration & Party Game Dynamics with the Latest Expansion for the Strategy Card Game PARTY WANTED | 104 | $3,732.00 (560%) in 29 days | 2024-05-20 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰 |
New this week (30)
| Name | Description | Backers | Pledged | Ends | Information | Tags | BGG |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 2024 Crokinole Board Season 8: Mahagony or Beech + Cases | We are back for our 8th Crokinole Project, this fan favorite will include all the best of prior projects plus wax with every board! | 3481 | $459,805.00 (9196%) in 6 days | 2024-06-05 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🔥🌳 | |
| Feudum | Game-of-the-year winner, Feudum is back with the 7th anniversary collector's edition featuring an exclusive clockwork behemoth! Grrrrrrrrrr. | 2089 | $273,565.57 (1094%) in 5 days | 2024-06-14 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑5 players ⏱️ 150 min. Area Control | 💰🔥🌱 | |
| Rove | A cooperative campaign experience for 1-4 adventurers set in a fantasy world on the brink of being consumed by nature. | 1728 | $257,808.00 (645%) in 6 days | 2024-06-07 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 60-120 min. | 🎉💰🔥🌱 | BGG |
| Masters of the Universe: Battleground | Masters of the Universe: Battleground is a skirmish miniature game for two to four players, where forces of good and evil clash in epic combat. This glorious battle will shake the earth and change the fate of Eternia! | 1605 | $422,043.41 (1407%) in 6 days | 2024-05-29 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 2‑4 players ⏱️ 90 min. Wargame | 💰🔥🌳 | |
| Wonders of The First CCG | Battle across 7 realms as a Stoneseeker. Just Relaunched - Get Kickstarter Exclusive Packages and Pricing! | 1451 | $902,420.00 (3610%) in 6 days | 2024-05-31 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 13+ ⏱️ 20-45 min. | 💰🔥 | BGG |
| Hunted: Mining Colony 415 (2nd Edition) [Solo Game of the Month] | Become an 80s action hero who overcomes impossible odds to escape deadly aliens in the 2nd edition of this solo game! | 1161 | $24,565.46 (491%) in 6 days | 2024-05-31 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑2 players ⏱️ 20 min. Card Game | 💰🌳 | |
| Hannibal & Hamilcar + Metal Minis | Hannibal: Classic Edition by one of the most acclaimed game designers in the world, Mark Simonitch. | 972 | €102,134.25 (340%) in 6 days | 2024-05-24 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 2 players ⏱️ 120 min. Card Game Wargame Dice Game Area Control | 💰🌳 | |
| Oshi Push! The VTuber Trading Card Game | A TCG featuring actual VTubers, from the makers of Tanto Cuore and Game Designer, Justin Gary! www.OshiPush.com | 828 | $146,263.00 (293%) in 5 days | 2024-06-05 | 💸 Kickstarter | 🎉💰🌳 | |
| The Secret Cabal Gaming Podcast is Outta Control in 2024 | The Cabal Founders are crashing into 2024 with more weekly tabletop gaming podcasts and other irreverent nonsense! | 827 | $51,447.00 (129%) in 5 days | 2024-06-07 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌳 | |
| BERSERKERS : Chaos Extension by Alone Editions | Berserkers is Back ! | 628 | €16,523.00 (254%) in 4 days | 2024-06-09 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌳 | |
| Hex Effects: A Spellbinding Card Game | Hex Effects is a “take that” card game that involves beautiful artwork and easy-to-pick-up gameplay. From the makers of Side Effects! | 604 | $22,937.00 (191%) in 4 days | 2024-06-14 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑8 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 20-40 min. | 🎉💰 | BGG |
| Everbloom | A unique blend of area control, resource management, and set collection, taking place in a magical world of flora & fauna. | 560 | $37,685.00 (188%) in 6 days | 2024-06-08 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 13+ ⏱️ 60-90 min. | 🎉💰🌱 | BGG |
| Good Dog, Bad Zombie: A Cooperative Board Game (2nd Edition) | Bark, sniff, and lick your way through the apocalypse to save the humans you love! New art, new playable dogs, & upgraded components! | 554 | $45,349.00 (336%) in 6 days | 2024-06-07 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌳 | |
| The Big Bad Wolf | Based on The 3 Little Pigs! Secretly pass the "Big Bad Wolf" then Entice & Persuade players into flipping it, to Blow Down their house! | 440 | $8,704.00 (249%) in 6 days | 2024-06-13 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 15-35 min. | 💰🌱 | BGG |
| Catstronauts: The Board Game | The cooperative boardgame based on the hit graphic novels! | 361 | $23,289.00 (466%) in 6 days | 2024-06-14 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 1‑4 players 👶 8+ ⏱️ 30 min. | 💰🌳 | BGG |
| World of Kilforth: The Fantasy Quest Games | Return to the stunning oceans of Kilforth! Missed the Kickstarter? Heed the call, and explore the beautiful southern seas to defend Kilforth from the deadly Ancients... | 261 | £27,836.80 (557%) in 6 days | 2024-05-31 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑4 players Card Game Dice Game | 💰 | |
| Amsterdam Board Game Design - season 1 | Three fun card games by different members of ABGD: Bable, Grachtenpand, & TimeZoo. May this be the first season of many! | 258 | €7,569.00 (252%) in 6 days | 2024-06-13 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌱 | |
| Around the World in 10 to 15 Minutes | Travel the world, explore cities, and collect souvenirs in this 2-6 player print at home game | 256 | $2,429.00 (2429%) in 6 days | 2024-05-31 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰 | |
| Guns of the Old West | Players compete as a team with over 100 campaign paths. Each playthrough is a unique cinematic experience offering endless replayability. Players make strategic decisions and interact with each other to achieve their group and secret individual objectives, some of which involve betrayal, making for … | 203 | £36,141.95 (72%) in 6 days | 2024-06-11 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 2‑8 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 45-90 min. Card Game Wargame Dice Game Cooperative | 🌱 | BGG |
| The Thinning Veil Cormac Mac Airt on the Other Side of Midnight | A solo dungeon crawl now featuring a 2 player mode set in the world of The Thinning Veil, and featuring Cormac Mac Airt, High King of Inis Fael! This game is the first in the Thinning Veil line and the Cormac series. | 182 | £24,123.56 (1206%) in 6 days | 2024-06-11 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑2 players ⏱️ 90 min. Dice Game | 💰 | |
| The 7 Seas: A New Start | Embark on a thrilling adventure in the world of The 7 Seas. Explore, trade, and fight to become a legend! | 145 | €12,654.80 (127%) in 3 days | 2024-06-09 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑5 players 👶 10+ ⏱️ 30-90 min. | 💰 | BGG |
| Freak War: A Card Game | A fun and simple pick-up-and-play card game—with unhinged rules and a hidden layer of intense strategy. | 142 | $11,158.00 (112%) in 6 days | 2024-06-13 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 6+ ⏱️ 15-60 min. | 🎉💰 | BGG |
| EXPENDABLE EMPLOYEES | A Miniature Skirmish Game Inspired by Lethal Company, Content Warning & Helldivers 2! | 126 | CA$3,136.00 (125%) in 3 days | 2024-06-15 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌳 | |
| Bouquet | A game of bees, blossoms, and bluffing, Bouquet is a strategic area control game where competition blooms into beauty! | 105 | $7,152.00 (72%) in 6 days | 2024-06-03 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 3‑5 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 15-20 min. | BGG | |
| Le Vent Rouge: a Game of French Thieves & Dice | A Competitive "Roll & Spend" Strategy Game For 2-4 Players | 98 | $7,838.00 (52%) in 4 days | 2024-06-07 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players 👶 12+ ⏱️ 60-120 min. | 🌳 | BGG |
| PLACES-Bid | Outwit opponents for the most valuable portfolio of buildings, projects, and tokens through strategic bidding, collecting, and assembling. | 75 | $2,847.61 (28%) in 5 days | 2024-06-01 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 3‑6 players ⏱️ 20 min. Card Game | 🌱 | |
| Grassroots | The party game to change the world | 74 | £3,444.00 (57%) in 5 days | 2024-06-19 | 💸 Kickstarter | 🎉🌱 | |
| Simplicity Lenormand | Unlock the Mysteries of Divination with Ease | 67 | $7,073.00 (47%) in 4 days | 2024-06-15 | 💸 Kickstarter | ||
| Hockey Hardware | A fun, new tabletop game for hockey fans, gamers, fantasy hockey GMs, and players who like to win. | 67 | CA$15,331.00 (38%) in 4 days | 2024-07-15 | 💸 Kickstarter 👥 2‑4 players ⏱️ 45-120 min. | BGG | |
| CyberQuest. The Game of Cyberpunk Adventures | You are in the year 2081. The Black Chip agency, formed by members who participated in the Second Corporate Conflict on both sides, try to avoid a third conflict between Nakaware and Biosync.Max, an employee at Nakaware, discovers a confidential file that could spark a war. He contacts his sister R… | 25 | €2,223.51 (12%) in 5 days | 2024-06-28 | 💸 Gamefound 👥 1‑5 players 👶 14+ ⏱️ 45-90 min. Cooperative | 🌱 | BGG |
Notable filtered projects (5)
| Name | Description | Backers | Pledged | Ends | Information | Tags |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Richard Kane Ferguson's Playmat Collection | Extremely limited edition RKF extended artwork: Tutors, Force of Will and other classic and new Magic: the Gathering playmats & prints! | 2698 | $274,228.00 (2217%) in 28 days | 2024-05-22 | 💸 Kickstarter | 🎉💰🌱 |
| Modular Filament Storage System | 3D Printable Modular Filament Storage System | 1792 | $105,407.00 (2108%) in 27 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰 |
| Kimera Velvet - Concentrated Acrylic Inks and Pure Pigments | A new line of paints for miniatures, new pure pigments set, new brushes and 150mm academic busts for painting from Kimera Kolors. | 1731 | €235,046.00 (783%) in 6 days | 2024-05-30 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🔥 |
| The Savage World of Solomon Kane RPG | Dive deep in the world of Solomon Kane with this revised version of the RPG based upon the incredible works of Robert E. Howard! | 1098 | €99,363.00 (248%) in 5 days | 2024-05-23 | 💸 Kickstarter | 🎉💰🔥🌳 |
| Loot The Monster! - A Project that Grows with Every Backer | A DnD Treasure Trove of Unique Loot for Every Monster. Dungeons and Dragons 5E | 1035 | €17,424.00 (3872%) in 25 days | 2024-05-25 | 💸 Kickstarter | 💰🌱 |
2024.05.19 20:12 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
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My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
2024.05.19 20:12 Finbarr_Galedeep Here is a list of all the messages I've (30M) received after every first date I've been on in recent weeks and months:
- Hi [Name], I’ve been thinking since we met up the other day. I had a lovely time with you but I just don’t think the chemistry is there. I’m really sorry, thought you deserved honesty xx
- it was nice to meet you [Name], but I don’t think I really felt a connection. All the best with everything though!
- Thanks for coming all the way down to [place]! Not sure what you’re looking for on the apps - don’t know that there was a romantic connection there, but I enjoyed your company - and I’d like to hear more of your one liners!
- Hi [Name]! Thanks for meeting today it was nice talking to you. But I want to be honest I’m not feeling the connection, hope you understand. I wish you all the best
- Sorry for the late reply. I had a lovely time but I'm not sure we had that little extra something. Thanks for a lovely night :)
- Yea got home all safe. Thanks for the chats last night. I'll be frank, you seem like a nice and even keel kind of person but I didn't really feel there was that connection there that I'm looking for.
- Hey [Name], thanks for our cute date yesterday! I didn't quite feel the type of connection I'm looking for, but thanks again for an enjoyable chat and stroll and I hope you have a great week ahead.
EDIT: Note that this doesn't include the many others who simply ghosted after the first date, even after ones which I felt went well
2024.05.19 20:11 Prettymillionaire WIBTAH if I leave my boyfriend?
I met this guy 9 months ago. At the beginning he asked if I can cook, I told him I don't like cooking, but I can do it, turns out he hates cooking, although he also can cook. I assured him that in case things get serious, we'll get a solution to the problem.
Fast forward, we're seeing each other regularly, at times we spend Mo-Fr in my place, other times in his. Even though I don't like cooking, I usually cook like 2-4 times in a week, like from scratch. After some health condition that I had back in 2016, I've been cooking since 2019. All my health problems got better like 90% so I've sticked to it, even though I don't enjoy cooking that much.
Since we spend so much time together, I just cooked like usual, not thinking much of it, only that instead of 1 person meal, I add more ingredients to cater for 2. So after 1 month I realise how tiring all this gets. When I was alone, sometimes I'd just fix something quick that took me 15-20 mins and I'd be good. Since we're now 2, I've always made real dishes which need longer preparation and cleaning up afterwords.
After 1 month, realising how tired I get, I ask him to help me in the kitchen, as in to be cooking 1-2 times a week, he comes up with excuses how he work long hrs and is tired when he gets home. Mind you, we both work 40 hrs a week, plus I take some weekend jobs, to save extra. In a month I work 2 Saturdays and 1 Sunday, all half a day. I try negotiating with him that I'm also tired when I come home, but still stand in the kitchen for 1 hr to prepare us something. What annoys me is that when I'm home earlier, I cook, when he's home earlier, he'll be sitting on computer playing games with his feet on the table, waiting for me.
So one day we come to a conclusion that he'll be cooking over the weekend at least for me to get some rest. 4 weeks go by, and all the weekends he doesn't cook. One weekend I came home after visiting a friend. He thought I was going to jump straight into the kitchen like I've always done, but I didn't. Instead of fixing us something, he goes and makes himself a sandwich, continues to eat it right next to me, without even asking if I was hungry. This is someone, I've always cooked for, even made lunch to take to job when I was making mine. After that I had enough and knew nothing is going to change. I just told him this is not going to work for us and pack all my stuff and go back to my apartment. He crawls back saying how sorry he was, is going to make an effort blablabla.
Also note that I'm the one paying for groceries. He pays child support and is left with not much, no big deal for me, coz he promises that when we move together, I won't be paying rent and we'll have some money left. I can still have a good life without my weekend jobs, but I still keep them because I'm saving up to buy my appartment.
2 months goes by, and he always bombarding my phone with sweet nothings, which I don't give in to. I talk to my sister about it and she says I could have given him more time, that my standards are too high and I should give him another chance and more time. I grudgingly agree to this because in general he's a good man and my family likes him. So I set a date and we met end of January.
At the beginning he really is engaged, does stuff, and with time he just realises how tiresome it gets. Always angry when it's his turn in the kitchen, even though I'm always there helping with peelings and cutting.
Since yesterday I caught some virus and been down. This morning, he made himself some coffee and croissants and never asked me if I'd like to have something. At around 13.30 in the afternoon I stood up to make myself something to eat, then he joins me in the kitchen and help. While eating, he sees something is not right and asks what's wrong. Is it not common sense to help your bf/gf when they are sick? Because I remember being single and cooking for myself when sick. Now in a relationship, still cooking, but now for 2 people. I'm I overreacting or expecting too much? Because I remember 3 weeks ago he woke up with headache, and before I went jogging, I brought him some coffee and omelette and sandwich in bed, just so that he can have a rest.
Right now I feel lost in this relationship, we argue about little things, I feel like I'm carrying a burden. When it comes to organising fun stuff to do, it's always me. He doesn't have friends or hobbies except computer games and gym. I feel like he a velcro bf. When I'm away he'll be bombarding my WhatsApp with emojies when he has nothing to do, says he misses me. Feels like I have a small child left at home.
ATM I can't see myself living like this. He said he want a kid, see myself doing most of the parenting because he can't even make small decisions on how many sandwiches he should pack when we're going hiking. Or what to put in the sandwiches. How to cut the onions, or which programme for the laundry, even though he has been single for some time. SMH...
Now tell me reddit, WIBTA if I leave him? Are my standards to high? Is this how a normal family functions?
submitted by Prettymillionaire to AITAH [link] [comments]
Fast forward, we're seeing each other regularly, at times we spend Mo-Fr in my place, other times in his. Even though I don't like cooking, I usually cook like 2-4 times in a week, like from scratch. After some health condition that I had back in 2016, I've been cooking since 2019. All my health problems got better like 90% so I've sticked to it, even though I don't enjoy cooking that much.
Since we spend so much time together, I just cooked like usual, not thinking much of it, only that instead of 1 person meal, I add more ingredients to cater for 2. So after 1 month I realise how tiring all this gets. When I was alone, sometimes I'd just fix something quick that took me 15-20 mins and I'd be good. Since we're now 2, I've always made real dishes which need longer preparation and cleaning up afterwords.
After 1 month, realising how tired I get, I ask him to help me in the kitchen, as in to be cooking 1-2 times a week, he comes up with excuses how he work long hrs and is tired when he gets home. Mind you, we both work 40 hrs a week, plus I take some weekend jobs, to save extra. In a month I work 2 Saturdays and 1 Sunday, all half a day. I try negotiating with him that I'm also tired when I come home, but still stand in the kitchen for 1 hr to prepare us something. What annoys me is that when I'm home earlier, I cook, when he's home earlier, he'll be sitting on computer playing games with his feet on the table, waiting for me.
So one day we come to a conclusion that he'll be cooking over the weekend at least for me to get some rest. 4 weeks go by, and all the weekends he doesn't cook. One weekend I came home after visiting a friend. He thought I was going to jump straight into the kitchen like I've always done, but I didn't. Instead of fixing us something, he goes and makes himself a sandwich, continues to eat it right next to me, without even asking if I was hungry. This is someone, I've always cooked for, even made lunch to take to job when I was making mine. After that I had enough and knew nothing is going to change. I just told him this is not going to work for us and pack all my stuff and go back to my apartment. He crawls back saying how sorry he was, is going to make an effort blablabla.
Also note that I'm the one paying for groceries. He pays child support and is left with not much, no big deal for me, coz he promises that when we move together, I won't be paying rent and we'll have some money left. I can still have a good life without my weekend jobs, but I still keep them because I'm saving up to buy my appartment.
2 months goes by, and he always bombarding my phone with sweet nothings, which I don't give in to. I talk to my sister about it and she says I could have given him more time, that my standards are too high and I should give him another chance and more time. I grudgingly agree to this because in general he's a good man and my family likes him. So I set a date and we met end of January.
At the beginning he really is engaged, does stuff, and with time he just realises how tiresome it gets. Always angry when it's his turn in the kitchen, even though I'm always there helping with peelings and cutting.
Since yesterday I caught some virus and been down. This morning, he made himself some coffee and croissants and never asked me if I'd like to have something. At around 13.30 in the afternoon I stood up to make myself something to eat, then he joins me in the kitchen and help. While eating, he sees something is not right and asks what's wrong. Is it not common sense to help your bf/gf when they are sick? Because I remember being single and cooking for myself when sick. Now in a relationship, still cooking, but now for 2 people. I'm I overreacting or expecting too much? Because I remember 3 weeks ago he woke up with headache, and before I went jogging, I brought him some coffee and omelette and sandwich in bed, just so that he can have a rest.
Right now I feel lost in this relationship, we argue about little things, I feel like I'm carrying a burden. When it comes to organising fun stuff to do, it's always me. He doesn't have friends or hobbies except computer games and gym. I feel like he a velcro bf. When I'm away he'll be bombarding my WhatsApp with emojies when he has nothing to do, says he misses me. Feels like I have a small child left at home.
ATM I can't see myself living like this. He said he want a kid, see myself doing most of the parenting because he can't even make small decisions on how many sandwiches he should pack when we're going hiking. Or what to put in the sandwiches. How to cut the onions, or which programme for the laundry, even though he has been single for some time. SMH...
Now tell me reddit, WIBTA if I leave him? Are my standards to high? Is this how a normal family functions?
2024.05.19 20:10 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter 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 creepypasta [link] [comments]
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter 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 20:09 Emotional-You-8459 I (f25)have feelings for a guy(m22) and I’m jealous and don’t know what to do?
Hi I made this post early but it was way more emotional driven so I took it down and thought I’d explain it better. My grammar might be bad cause I’m still very emotional but not sad or mad just straight up jealous. Hi I’m not a sex worker but I’m friends with a lot of guys who are very open about sex and things involving sex our group had a couple girls in it but I’m known as the only dominant girl of the group so sometimes me and my guy friends will hook up and I’ll dominate them. One day one of my friends who’s a very submissive guy, a bit Spazzy but very cute wanted me to help him out. He had a girl friend who was very subby and he needed someone more dominate. They had an open relationship so it was fine. Recently they broke up do to a separate issue and he the first thing he did was asked me out. In the moment I knew I’d the situation and told him “let’s wait until you’re put back together emotional then we can try” he agreed and a couple weeks later after toying with the idea I kinda got excited thinking about having him be my cute little pet boyfriend. I thought of having a romantic relationship which is something I never saw in my future so I came back around and said “you know what let’s try it it’ll be fun” he got excited to and started to call me mommy and such standard fair for kink play relationships. Well we set the date to have the date and I started to eagerly wait for that day. Well yesterday I found out he slept with our other mutual friend. I tried to play it off like oh we all do that all the time so it’s okay but I can’t get over this feeling of jealously it’s all consuming. At first I was thinking horrible things about her like how she’s not as pretty as me or that she’s not as dominate as me which regardless of being true isn’t a nice thing to think about any one and my jealously is getting worse as time goes on. I’m worried by the time we even have the date I won’t be able to hide it. I’ve never been jealous before of anyone because I never wanted a romantic relationship until now. I feel awful. So my question is are these feelings normal? How do I deal with them? Should I even try to pursue a relationship with anyone if this is how I get? I’m not a romantic type at all I rather be the creepy mommy of the group who’s cool and approachable not the jealous bitch.
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2024.05.19 20:08 PageTurner627 My Dad and I Hunted Down the Dogman that Killed My Sister
I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
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My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
2024.05.19 20:07 Adorable-Test3446 AITAH for not wanting to live with my significant other?
Keeping it short and sweet, I (F28) have never liked the idea of living with anyone else. I have been living on my own for almost 10 years now by choice. When I first started dating my boyfriend (M28) I told him this however he thought I meant until marriage, I clarified and told him that even after we get married I still prefer to live separately(neither of us wants children so that’s not in the equation). Now he’s questioning the relationship because he doesn’t want to have a marriage like that. I told him we’ve been doing just fine the last couple of years not living together and he said “marriage is different, to me it’s the representation of 2 people coming together as one and if you aren’t willing to compromise a little bit of your independency for that then I just don’t see the point.” He said he would be perfectly fine having 2 separate rooms or different parts of a house, but I just feel that’s not enough.
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