Times have been tough recently, maybe you’ve been dealing with some bad luck, maybe your minds been beating you down extra bad lately, friend or family problems, whatever the reason, you’ve taken a walk. Honestly, it had helped a little, following the dirt path into the beauty of nature.
However there was a calling deep in the ground, you looked longingly into the soil, the insecurities within your mind fading out as you wandered ever closer.
In the distance you could see the object that created the calling. When you looked at it, only then and truly was your mind clear.

These spaces are only accessible to people close to you and will be closed off to any general human public.
The Building you saw was the -

Colourful Cottage - Getting closer and closer to the cottage you noticed a few things. The trees covered in beautiful chalk patterns, beautiful flowers in painted pots spread around the clearing. Directly in the centre of the clearing was a cute stone cottage, the walls contain beautiful murals and pieces of graffiti, just outside is an entire set of painting materials, from canvas to pastel.
The building itself includes a personal study, a bathroom, a storage that seems to fill itself with resources that run out. The insides contain much more of these artistic materials allowing for all forms of creation, including digital!
If you go past the Cottage you will find an array of woodland critters and many pathways to smaller clearings where you can sit and set up shop. These pathways have the artwork of many others, maybe you can make your mark here too. Anything you create here you can take back and rest assured whatever you do take back will not be lost or broken in the journey back.

Beach-side Bungalow - The clearing soon went from soil to sand, a wooden bungalow, the front of which looking out into the most beautiful blue beach. The pink sand, warm to the touch. A heavenly touch of the sun shining down. The waves rolling calmly.
The building itself includes a bedroom, tiki bar, dressing room with swim suits and other swimming related items, and a bathroom. Many drinks of all kinds line the shelves, as well as piles of exotic fruits that seemingly refuse to go bad.
Past the Bungalow is the beautiful beach. Chairs and towels line sections of the beach, along with umbrellas. On the left is a small fishing boat filled with all the essentials needed to go fishing. Fish of all kinds float in these waters, some would pay a fortune for some of these, you are very welcome to take all of your catches back.

Acorn Apartments - The clearing contained a large set, a small complex of apartments, eight doors in total, wandering to and fro into the forest was spirit like people. These people are the type you would only hear of in the Japanese tales of yokai, it made sense how the apartment complex was reminiscent of the ones you would see.
Your apartment is a small studio apartment as all the others are, of course taking on japanese architecture. There is a bathroom, space for what could be considered a lounge and bedroom, the kitchen is on the other side of this room. There is a communal bathhouse just beside the building, run by one of its residents.
The spirits are incredibly friendly and are welcome in becoming friends with the eighth resident of the complex. They are also comfortable to give the new human resident tasks that they can no longer partake in as spirits, in return they can give blessings or objects. Tasks like, go help this sweet sick old lady to learn the basics of a whole other language which may or may not be dead, the rewards could range from a teapot that makes any tea a soothing pot to a book that could import a term of classes in your head, very rare indeed. They will be very grateful and will not at all mind if you decline.

Twilight Treehouse - The clearing contains a huge tree as wide as a house and as tall as five entire stories. The branches could be considered walkways into other trees. In the trees floor of planks are filled with many kinds of furniture. Lanterns of large paper stars follow these pathways into the other areas around the trees.
There’s lots of space in these floors to look up to the stars. The tree includes an area filled with various powerful telescopes and cameras. A place where star-maps of thousands of years have been categorised from parchment to usb sticks. There are also tools of all kinds to record the night sky yourself. A gorgeous past-time and any map and record you create will be incredibly valuable to Astro-Based Researchers everywhere.
For some-reason whenever you’re here it’s always night. The stars move as if they have a mind of their own, comets fly frequently. But by a will you can make it stop. Create incredible constellations. The power of the night, controlled by a tree. As an added bonus during your starsign’s month, you could see as good as any telescope with your eyes alone.

Whole Wheat Windmill - The clearing instead leads into a beautiful field, other than dirt paths, wheat covers a huge area of the fields directly in the middle of the fields is a large dutch windmill connected to a small bakery. A cobblestone base, but everything is made heavily out of strong woods.
When walking inside you enter a waiting area first with tables and chairs, from this point you can see a countertop and past that is a large kitchen with old but incredibly productive cast iron ovens. There is a small bookshelf in this area filled with many recipes of pastries and baked goods. Past the kitchen is a small bedroom and kitchen.
And lastly, of course is the windmill. It is self working of course, however you’ll need to supply the wheat yourself. The fields will always be fertile, but you must still take the time to maintain them. This place is quite different on this list, as people will be allowed to come by and buy baked goods, this will lead to a steady and above average income, only getting better as your baking skills get better.

Mix’n’Match Mentality - A special offer for those who really need the calming sensation, or those who can’t make a decision on just one. Instead take two of the choices and fuse them, put in the comments what you create.

Life can be tough sometimes! Hydrate, think and recuperate! Humans can be allowed to rest. Have a lovely time-zone!

met this boy. i thought we were gonna be something. he gave me flowers, forehead kisses, showered me with compliments. He left after a month. i thought he could show me what it s like to be loved . i was already suicidal but this just made it worse.

**HEY! ARC here. Go buy Book 2's official physical copy from Amazon.com! ---- Previous
Suma’s POV
(Another mission behind inside enemy controlled territory.) I thought, perched and watching the horizon as the sun moved behind the Yggsdrasil tree, causing its green and orange leaves to shimmer like a sunset. (Hopefully not like the last.)
“Suma,” Jake said though our private connection, “squad’s here; at the base of the castle. Ready to go?”
“Yes.” I answered and flew down to meet them. All the while, wondering how Rou had handled Odens’ passing in the past week and a half. Would she be there? Spotting Jake, and landing on the perch in his armor, I got my answer after looking around. I saw Captain Gigoales, Lieutenant Datahu, and Nine, but Rou was nowhere to be seen. However, there were two new faces. Perched on a Black Serpent was Lauric Isbala, and one other Neame I did not recognize.
“Lady Suma.” Lauric said curtly.
“Sir Lauric?” I asked, surprised to see him again. I knew he had joined the Drakes just as Jake and I had, but not once in all our training had we encountered him.
“You are well it seems, as is your familiar.”
“Hey Lauric.” Jake said hesitantly. He and Lauric had never gotten along, and neither had we. “How have you been?”
“Well.” Lauric said flatly. “Shall we take our leave and begin the mission?”
“Indeed. The team has already been briefed on the mission, and each moment we stay here, our objective grows further away.” Captain Gigoales said. “We can make proper introductions while we travel. Third Squadron, get into tunnel formation.” One by one we all followed after the Captain as he took the lead. Flying into the sky, our formation was single file. Captain in the lead, then the Lieutenant, followed by Suma, Nine, Lauric, Fourteen which was the designation of the newest team member, and finally, Jake; who was riding Chariot.
The reason we traveled like this was to increase our speed as much as possible. The one is first position, in this case our Captain, was to cast and maintain a wind spell that created a tube of air that would push all turbulence aside, while also creating enough lift and directional winds to pull anyone inside forward faster than most could fly. Since Ambos-Ompera was so far away from the coast, every moment counted. Jake was the only one outside the wind tunnel as we traveled, since he was too large to fit into it, but he kept up with us by using fire magic to create what he called a ‘jet stream’ for himself. Apparently, it was already similar to what the runes on Chariot did, but more effective.
Due to the wind tunnels excessive noise, Lieutenant Datahu cast a Mind-Magic spell that allowed us to communicate. It was Jake who used it first. “I know we are already in the middle of a mission, but I guess I just wanted to properly introduce myself. You said your name was Fourteen? Mine’s Ja… Sentinel.”
“Ah yes, Sentinel. It is a pleasure. Though, I have no name, my current number is fourteen. I was transferred to your squadron just a few days ago.”
“Lauric and Fourteen are Odens and Rou’s replacements.” Lieutenant Datahu said.
“Does this mean Rou is leaving the Drakes?” I asked.
“No, she is on modified-assignment. Until further notice, she will remain on guard duty at base. It was by her own request.” Datahu said.
“She took Odens’ loss hard. Really hard.” Nine said.
“Fourteen was sent to fill Odens’ role, and Lauric volunteered to fill Rou’s for this mission.” Datahu said, to my surprise.
“Lauric, you volunteered to be on the same squad as me? Really?” Jake asked, rather tactlessly and equally surprised. Though I could not blame him. The last time we spoke to Lauric Isbala, he effectively called Jake a monster, best used for war. “You’re not still worried I’m a danger to the country, are you?”
Without looking back at anyone, Lauric responded, “No. After reading the reports and having the events explained to me firsthand, I believe you are neither a danger to the Drakes, nor a hindrance. My reasons for joining this mission are personal.”
“Reasons that I expect you will not allow to interfere with the mission.” Lieutenant Datahu said sternly.
“Never, Lieutenant. The mission comes first.”
“So, Fourteen. How did you get that… designation?” Jake asked.
“Probably the same way I got the number Nine. He was the fourteenth nameless Neame to join the Drakes this year, and the number was available.”
“Quite so. My skills with both battle and support spells allowed me to join, and I was placed on Seventh Squadron. Until recently.”
“Why did you leave?” Jake asked.
“Seventh Squadron was dissolved after a mission gone wrong, and all remaining member were reassigned.”
“If I might ask, how many survivors?” Nine asked.
“Two.” The Captain said, finally interjecting. “Their Sargent, and Fourteen. Now let the singing dive. I need to focus on maintaining the spell. Keep all nonessential communication to a minimum until we arrive at the sea-flyer.”
We flew for hours in silence, except for the sounds of winds roaring just a wingspan away, going so fast just touching it could break bones and rip out feathers. Just as the sun began to set in the distance, Jake said something strange.
“I think I smell the ocean.”
“We must be getting near our transport.” The Captain said. “Keep an eye out. We should be able to see it soon.”
“Captain, there is it. Forward left, under the sun and just above the horizon.” Nine announced. The Captain readjusted our formation, and soon we were landing on the shore by the ocean.
“A dockyard?” Jake asked aloud, now that we did not need the wind-tunnel anymore.
“Indeed. I shall go and speak with the dockmaster, they will know which sea-flyer will be our transport. Wait here.” Captain Gigoales said.
“These are sea-flyers then?” Fourteen asked. We all examined them. They were colossal things. There was no stone anywhere in them that I could see, despite their large size. Rather, they were made entirely of wood, with large swaths of fabric strapped to and hanging from a set of, what appeared to be, comically large perches. The shape reminded me of the pit of a walgo flower if it was cut lengthwise, but brown instead of red. Along the top of the ship were runes engraved into perches and filled with clay.
“On my world, we call them ships.” Jake said. “Or, sailboats.”

**HEY! ARC here. Go buy Book 2's official physical copy from Amazon.com! ---- Previous
Suma’s POV
(Another mission behind inside enemy controlled territory.) I thought, perched and watching the horizon as the sun moved behind the Yggsdrasil tree, causing its green and orange leaves to shimmer like a sunset. (Hopefully not like the last.)
“Suma,” Jake said though our private connection, “squad’s here; at the base of the castle. Ready to go?”
“Yes.” I answered and flew down to meet them. All the while, wondering how Rou had handled Odens’ passing in the past week and a half. Would she be there? Spotting Jake, and landing on the perch in his armor, I got my answer after looking around. I saw Captain Gigoales, Lieutenant Datahu, and Nine, but Rou was nowhere to be seen. However, there were two new faces. Perched on a Black Serpent was Lauric Isbala, and one other Neame I did not recognize.
“Lady Suma.” Lauric said curtly.
“Sir Lauric?” I asked, surprised to see him again. I knew he had joined the Drakes just as Jake and I had, but not once in all our training had we encountered him.
“You are well it seems, as is your familiar.”
“Hey Lauric.” Jake said hesitantly. He and Lauric had never gotten along, and neither had we. “How have you been?”
“Well.” Lauric said flatly. “Shall we take our leave and begin the mission?”
“Indeed. The team has already been briefed on the mission, and each moment we stay here, our objective grows further away.” Captain Gigoales said. “We can make proper introductions while we travel. Third Squadron, get into tunnel formation.” One by one we all followed after the Captain as he took the lead. Flying into the sky, our formation was single file. Captain in the lead, then the Lieutenant, followed by Suma, Nine, Lauric, Fourteen which was the designation of the newest team member, and finally, Jake; who was riding Chariot.
The reason we traveled like this was to increase our speed as much as possible. The one is first position, in this case our Captain, was to cast and maintain a wind spell that created a tube of air that would push all turbulence aside, while also creating enough lift and directional winds to pull anyone inside forward faster than most could fly. Since Ambos-Ompera was so far away from the coast, every moment counted. Jake was the only one outside the wind tunnel as we traveled, since he was too large to fit into it, but he kept up with us by using fire magic to create what he called a ‘jet stream’ for himself. Apparently, it was already similar to what the runes on Chariot did, but more effective.
Due to the wind tunnels excessive noise, Lieutenant Datahu cast a Mind-Magic spell that allowed us to communicate. It was Jake who used it first. “I know we are already in the middle of a mission, but I guess I just wanted to properly introduce myself. You said your name was Fourteen? Mine’s Ja… Sentinel.”
“Ah yes, Sentinel. It is a pleasure. Though, I have no name, my current number is fourteen. I was transferred to your squadron just a few days ago.”
“Lauric and Fourteen are Odens and Rou’s replacements.” Lieutenant Datahu said.
“Does this mean Rou is leaving the Drakes?” I asked.
“No, she is on modified-assignment. Until further notice, she will remain on guard duty at base. It was by her own request.” Datahu said.
“She took Odens’ loss hard. Really hard.” Nine said.
“Fourteen was sent to fill Odens’ role, and Lauric volunteered to fill Rou’s for this mission.” Datahu said, to my surprise.
“Lauric, you volunteered to be on the same squad as me? Really?” Jake asked, rather tactlessly and equally surprised. Though I could not blame him. The last time we spoke to Lauric Isbala, he effectively called Jake a monster, best used for war. “You’re not still worried I’m a danger to the country, are you?”
Without looking back at anyone, Lauric responded, “No. After reading the reports and having the events explained to me firsthand, I believe you are neither a danger to the Drakes, nor a hindrance. My reasons for joining this mission are personal.”
“Reasons that I expect you will not allow to interfere with the mission.” Lieutenant Datahu said sternly.
“Never, Lieutenant. The mission comes first.”
“So, Fourteen. How did you get that… designation?” Jake asked.
“Probably the same way I got the number Nine. He was the fourteenth nameless Neame to join the Drakes this year, and the number was available.”
“Quite so. My skills with both battle and support spells allowed me to join, and I was placed on Seventh Squadron. Until recently.”
“Why did you leave?” Jake asked.
“Seventh Squadron was dissolved after a mission gone wrong, and all remaining member were reassigned.”
“If I might ask, how many survivors?” Nine asked.
“Two.” The Captain said, finally interjecting. “Their Sargent, and Fourteen. Now let the singing dive. I need to focus on maintaining the spell. Keep all nonessential communication to a minimum until we arrive at the sea-flyer.”
We flew for hours in silence, except for the sounds of winds roaring just a wingspan away, going so fast just touching it could break bones and rip out feathers. Just as the sun began to set in the distance, Jake said something strange.
“I think I smell the ocean.”
“We must be getting near our transport.” The Captain said. “Keep an eye out. We should be able to see it soon.”
“Captain, there is it. Forward left, under the sun and just above the horizon.” Nine announced. The Captain readjusted our formation, and soon we were landing on the shore by the ocean.
“A dockyard?” Jake asked aloud, now that we did not need the wind-tunnel anymore.
“Indeed. I shall go and speak with the dockmaster, they will know which sea-flyer will be our transport. Wait here.” Captain Gigoales said.
“These are sea-flyers then?” Fourteen asked. We all examined them. They were colossal things. There was no stone anywhere in them that I could see, despite their large size. Rather, they were made entirely of wood, with large swaths of fabric strapped to and hanging from a set of, what appeared to be, comically large perches. The shape reminded me of the pit of a walgo flower if it was cut lengthwise, but brown instead of red. Along the top of the ship were runes engraved into perches and filled with clay.
“On my world, we call them ships.” Jake said. “Or, sailboats.”

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a situation many consider routine: waiting for the bus at a busy stop. The morning had been particularly chaotic, with a rush to leave the house, spilled coffee on my shirt, and a hasty argument with my partner over something trivial. I felt like the day was already ruined before it even began.
While I waited, I noticed an elderly man sitting on a nearby bench. His appearance was no different from any other passerby, but something about his expression caught my attention. He was smiling, intently looking at a small flower growing between the cracks in the sidewalk. My first reaction was puzzlement. What was so special about a simple flower?
Driven by curiosity, I approached him and asked, "Excuse me, what do you find so interesting?" He looked at me with a warmth I hadn't seen in a long time and replied, "Look at this flower. It managed to grow here, in the middle of the concrete, with no one to care for it. Despite everything, it blooms and adds a touch of beauty to this grey place."
His response made me think. Amidst the routine and stress, I had forgotten how to appreciate the little things. In that moment, I realized that life is full of small wonders that we often overlook. This man had found joy in something as simple as a flower, and his perspective made me reflect on my own life.
From that day on, I started paying more attention to my surroundings. I discovered that there is beauty in the simplest things: the sound of leaves crunching under my feet, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the spontaneous laughter of a child. I began to notice that these small experiences enriched my day in a way I had never appreciated before.
The reflection that this encounter left me with is powerful: often, happiness is not found in great achievements or material possessions, but in the ability to appreciate the little things around us. I learned to stop, observe, and be grateful for those fleeting moments that, at the end of the day, are what truly give meaning to our lives.
Since then, whenever I feel overwhelmed by stress or routine, I remember the man with the flower and force myself to seek out that hidden beauty in the everyday. This change in perspective has transformed my view of the world and helped me find peace and happiness in the most unexpected places.

🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸👹🩸 The Naraka Flesh Flowers is story that has many different views, in the Naraka in kalrudhira the goddess Kali created a garden of flowers made from the flesh of the dead. These flowers were said to be incredibly beautiful, also unsettling, as they seemed to bleed and would move like living beings. The flowers were said to be a manifestation of Kali's . According to some versions of the story, anyone who gazed upon these flowers would be driven mad by their beauty,
The Offering of Flesh Flowers is a significant ritual in the asur tradition surrounding the Naraka Flowers. The offering is a forbidden ritual that involves presenting the goddess Kali with these flowers, which are said to be themost pleasing offering to her. The ritual is rumored to grant the practitioner immense power, knowledge, and even mmortality. However, the offering is damgerous and comes with a price. as it requires the sacrifice of innocent lives, whose flesh is then used to create the flowers. The ritual is said to be so abhorrent that even the gods are afraid to view it, so the goods close thier eye when it is being performed, and those who attempt to perform it are cursed to suffer unspeakable torment.
to coax the flowers into bloom, requires a weekly sacrifice of seven humans and the ashes mixed into the soil. This process is said to awaken the power of the flowers, the soil must be fertilized by human bodies grinded into a pulp.
The place of the garden is in the middle of the field of flesh, one must instal a havan kund strictly for the nourishment of the flowers.
RULES TO MAINTAIN THE GARDEN OF NARAKA 🩸havan kund must be large enough to incinerate 7 bodies. After the blood is drained.
🩸The rakta ksetrapal of the flower must collect the ash and dust the field with it.
🩸The havan kund is a large, circular pit dug into the ground. Or a massive iron cauldron which was used to cook human and blessed by kali
🩸The pit is to be about 7 feet deep, with a narrow ledge running around the inside edge.
🩸it is made of a black stone, or iron
🩸at the back towering over the havan kund is a murti of raktabija with 6 arms, severed head drinking her own blood This murti is called raktamaharaudrakalika
🩸The fire is always burning very high. The havan kund is said to be adorned with a array of skulls, black bones, Child skulls, arranged around the edges of the pit, watching over the offerings as they enter the fire
🩸kund has a black hole under the feet of the murti which is said to be a portal to a malevolent realm.
THUS END THE INVOCATION OF THE FLOWERS OF NARAKAS GARDEN

1. Replace the smoking ban with a 5% tax on venues that allow indoor smoking, and require a symbol to be displayed at the entrance for transparency.
2. End duty tax on tobacco products and 16.5% ad valorem. Keep VAT.
3. Take off the VAT on drinks at pubs, and put that VAT onto supermarket booze
4. Subsidize pubs at risk of closure, the govt will buy these pubs if necessary
5. Venues that provide a significant addition to the community will receive additional grants.
6. Put in actual processing facilities for immigrants on Gruinard Island.
7. Apologise to France and build the Calais processing facility.
8. Replace the UK knowledge tests with psychological and philosophical tests to prevent religious extremists and full on mentalists from coming in.
9. Stop any religious and cultural accomodations for immigrants. Eg; no "I don't want to shake a woman's hand" crap.
10. Tax the bookies like the world is coming to an end. I will be using gambling addicts the way the current government using smoking addicts and alcoholics.
11. Legalise weed and tax it but only to a point where it's below current market value.
12. More funding for local councils.
13. Abolish planning permission.
14. Solve Israel (move the Israeli's to Svalbard and the Palestinians to Canada)
15. Non-citizens are not allowed to own multiple properties
16. Any individual citizen is not allowed to own more than two properties
17. Businesses are only allowed to own commercial property.
18. Replace HS2 with a slow rail line as the speed meant HS2 needed a straighter line, which required more controversial decisions to be made.
19. Set up a new hong-kong style economic zone in the north-west of England. Incentivising a huge amount of development resulting in over 2 million houses being built.
20. Replace ULEZ with the paris-style ban on SUVs.
21. Make classic cars subject to tax
22. Wealth tax combined with tax reduction to those on under 100k a year.
23. Give the unions more power
24. Make a law saying all wages must be in line with inflation, and minimum wage will also be in line with inflation
25. Make national holidays actually national holidays, require double pay for all staff working on these days.
26. Double pay is also required for night shifts (all hours between 10PM and 7AM)
27. Replace FPTP with direct democracy. No more voting for an MP to make your decisions for you. If you live in a labour-majority area your vote will now mean something.
28. £5bn in grants for the arts.
29. Decrease retirement age to 62.
30. Demolish a few of the estates in London and replace them with cultural hubs.
    
31. Death penalty reinstated on a consent-only basis (prisoners must consent to be put to death)
    
32. ^ Euthanasia will be legalised (seems fair)
    

So i’m (23/f) been with my bf (23/m) for 3 years. Our relationship started after 2 years of friendship, when we both realized we had deep feelings and it could work out. We’ve always been pretty honest about our wants and needs and communicated everything on early stages. The point here is that we come from different backgrounds, my family was wealthy enough to maintain comfortable and enjoyable lifestyle, i traveled a lot whole my childhood, got clothes and tech i wanted or needed immediately. Since i’ve chosen medical career, that is incredibly low paid first 10 years of practice in my country, my family supports me while i’m studying and first few years of my practice. So, in the start of relationship, which was 3 years ago, we discussed this issue, and i’m right away told him that i’m looking for financial support from him if we’re going to build serious relationship and live like family, because i don’t wanna lower my lifestyle level. At that time he had generic office job, not really made much, but tried to spoil me with small gifts, going out and some kind of pocket money, but promised me by the time i finish my studies he will pursue his IT career goals and will make it to decent salary so he could afford supporting me. We were madly in love, great sexual life even though we still lived at our parents homes, maintained great balance between spending time together and getting our work done. I constantly reminded about my needs, and he always assured me he’s okay with that and can’t wait to us move in together when he could afford it.
In those 3 years nothing changed, except he lost his job due to health issues and conflicts with his boss. He’s trying to get some new, but in reality nothing works out for him. I’m feeling down all the time, because in my social circle couples our age already travelling together, getting each other decent gifts, girls getting flowers, planning weddings etc. Seems like he tries, but really doesn’t understand the importance of material gifts and support for me. I feel unappreciated. Said this few times already to him, but he keeps telling me he can’t afford that. Forgets to buy me flowers on my birthday or any gifts at all, while i’m getting side hustles to prepare him something fancy. I really love him, he seems to love me, but constant frustration makes me distant myself. I may seem a gold digger, but i have to feel protected by my man, and i have to be sure i can rely on him, especially financially.
So, recently my parents surprised me by gifting me a small studio apartment, so i can move out and build career not having to worry about rent and stuff. They’re also going to help me with expenses on car maintenance and groceries for a year if i couldn’t make enough money to sustain that.
My boyfriend now wants to move in, while not able financially to even pay for bills, and assumes i don’t love him if i don’t want him to live on the money of my parents
What should i do? Can i expect he’s changes and really starts working? He’s a good person and i don’t wanna hurt him, but my needs aren’t met at all, and all his love and attention it’s only 50% of what i expect from this relationship.
TLDR: My boyfriend has no income but wants to live like family since my parents pay for my living expenses. I expect him to work, not to find shitty excuses why he couldn’t support me

Or, how I planned a wedding in four months without losing my mind.
Date: Obvious first question - why plan a wedding in four months? My now-husband proposed on New Years Eve 2023, and we didn't want a long engagement (I'm in my late 30s), so we were always shooting for a 2024 wedding. My in-laws are retired and already had big travel plans on the calendar for June and July, and one of my husband's closest friends is moving out of the country in August, so we decided to target a May wedding.
Priorities: We decided that our priorities, in order, were: (1) a great venue with a beautiful outdoor space for the ceremony, (2) a caterer who would provide excellent food for our guests to enjoy, and (3) a photographer we loved to capture the day. For everything else, our unofficial motto was "Satisfice hard".
Budget: $35,000
Context: We live in a VHCOL area, and we had 52 guests. We ended up bang-on our $35k budget in total.
Venue: $9,150
Included ceremony, cocktail hour, and reception spaces, all tables and chairs, onsite staff during the event to assist with venue-related things as needed, and subsidized event insurance.
Caterer: $9,679 + $1,000 in tips = $10,679
In addition to all of the food for cocktail hour and the reception (including desserts for the desserts table, aside from the cake), the caterer also provided all of the rentals of linens, tableware, and glassware.
Alcohol: $1,100
Purchased from the store separately, and the caterer served.
Photographer: $3,900
The package we chose included an engagement photo shoot and six hours of coverage on the day.
Dress: $2,800 + $650 alterations = $3,450
Includes a $200 rush fee because of how close to the wedding I ordered the dress. The alterations amount includes taking the dress in, shortening the straps, hem, changing out the bra cups, and adding a six-point American bustle. I wore shoes I already owned. [Side note here, I think my husband's suit was $650, but I'm not sure since he charged it to his own card. The rest of wedding expenses I put on my card and then took half out of our joint account.]
Day of Coordinator: $1,530 + $150 tip = $1,680
She really was more like a month-of coordinator, in that she took over most vendor communications a month out. On the day-of, she was there from 3:30p until midnight.
Florist: $900
This included my bouquet, my husband's boutonnière, centerpieces for seven tables, flowers for the cake, and extra loose greenery and florals for the sweetheart table and the serving tables. This amount also included delivery to the venue.
Furniture Rentals: $935
I have a chronic illness and can't stand for long periods of time, so we rented a couch and some chairs to ensure there was seating everywhere. We also rented patio heaters in case it was cold (which it was, so we were glad to have them). Price includes delivery and setup fee.
Cake: $350
This included a small cake for cutting (and serving), cupcakes, and delivery.
Hair & Makeup: $335 (trials and brow threading only)
My mom covered hair and makeup as a gift, so I'm not actually sure what the final total was.
Rings: $1,714
Wedding bands for my husband and I.
Welcome Dinner: $938
We invited immediately family and anyone who was getting on a plane to travel. 18 of the 52 guests attended.
Costs we did NOT incur included:
DJ: We did Spotify playlists instead, and it worked out just fine. We did spend a LOT of time prepping them, though.
Officiant: The friend who introduced us officiated, and it was perfect.
Invitations & Signage: We did digital-only invitations and RSVPs via WithJoy. Escort cards we designed ourselves and printed locally for $18. We made a crossword for guests to do that we printed at home. The venue provided chalkboards for signs directing people at the venue, and we designed and printed a couple of signs for the bar at home as well.
Bridal Party: We didn't have attendants, so didn't have any costs related to bridesmaids or groomsmen.
Transport: The majority of guests were local, and we drove our own car to and from the wedding.
Favors: I've been at lots of weddings and never really remembered the favors, so we skipped them. If we had done them, we would have done cookies and ordered sleeves off Amazon and stickers off Etsy.
Any questions, let me know! I found these posts helpful when I was planning, so hopefully someone will find this useful!

Archana stepped off from the bus, pulling the shawl even more tightly against herself, taking care to wrap the woollen garment around her ears to protect against the bustling wind. Even with her full saree, socks, a cardigan and the shawl, she had been shivering in the rickety bus, with the broken glasses and wooden window shutters letting more of the cold air in than keeping it out.
Kunidanga was not the most crowded village in the district to begin with, and now at the end of December, with the temperatures hovering in the single digits, the roads wore a deserted look in the fading light of the dusk. Situated on the banks of the Torsa river in North Bengal, it was a tiny little hamlet which was barely a speck on the map. Archana was the only one who got off the bus, which left immediately for the final stop at Dinhata - nearly ten miles due south near the border with Bangladesh.
The bus stop, with its tin roof having long lost its shine, the mandatory stray dog lying in a corner in a ball of old newspapers, the walls completely covered in graffiti and posters of everything from the latest theatrical releases in the one movie theatre of the district in CoochBehar, the latest political agenda for the upcoming elections, ones extolling the virtue of the famous palmist Sri Abhaynanda while others that extolled the brilliance of D K Lodh - the infamous ‘sex doctor’.
Even with the musky odour of too many sweat stained bodies, months of public urination and defecation which hadn’t been washed away since the last rains, Archana sat down on the stone bench - just to balance herself for a moment.
She slowly patted her belly, calming the little one inside.
It was just the first trimester, actually the very beginning of it. Today was her first visit to the doctor in the district hospital. Archana had been experiencing the tell-tale symptoms of pregnancy for the past few days and Nakul was absolutely, joyously certain, that they were going to be parents! They had gone to the doctor together in the first bus from Kunidanga, starting at the break of dawn. Nakul had fidgeted the whole way there, nervous excitement bubbling through at every second while Archana simply tried to control her nausea - made worse by the rolling motion of the rickety old bus on the untarred roads. Waiting for the first consultation with the doctor, going for the blood tests, then another long wait for the reports and then the final confirmation from the doctor had taken them the whole day.
A quick meal at the hospital canteen, they had to rush to catch the last bus departing for Kunidanga. Nakul had gotten down from the bus at the last stop, he needed to visit the government depot there to collect some documents for his job as Kunidanga’s public works superintendent.
Their small government issued bungalow was not too far from the bus stop and Archana was confident that it was a distance she could cover well enough on her own - having taken the same short route countless times in the past. She stood up, clutching her small purse with some spare change and the regulation IDs, a bit tired, but with the additional spring in the step which happiness sometimes brings you!
Archana had only gone a few steps when she stopped, her senses overwhelmed by the unique smell of burning incense, fresh flowers and freshly cut fruit and milk - that typical combination which filled the air around all hindu temples - a smell so common and deeply ingrained among the god fearing Bengalis.
A few more steps along the dusty corporation road, and the source of the smell became clear to Archana. A sadhu - a kapalika to be more precise from the way he was dressed - had set up a small tenement on the empty plot of land just off the road, hardly a hundred feet from the bus stand.
A large man, well toned but not really muscular, the skin tanned with constant exposure to the elements, a thick beard and wrapped in the regulation red dhoti and uttariya sat in prayer.
It was a deep plot of land, opening up into the forested shrubbery at the back, butted on one side by the road and the bus stand, the other end a good two-three hundred feet away - completely empty except for a few shrubs and bushes, till Kanai’s small stationary shop.
In the middle of this huge plot of land, there stood an old Ashwathama tree, perennial, huge, imposing! The sadhu had created a small clearing at the base of this tree, burning away the shrub and the grass, the soil blackened and charred by the fire. He had planted his ornamental trident - the trishul - on the ground, the tips reddened with what seemed by red chandan powder. A small cloth tote bag hung from one of the low hanging branches - evidently containing all his worldly possessions.
The sadhu sat with his back to the tree, his eyes closed in prayer. Even in the dim light of the dusk, he seemed to have extremely sharp features, even though his face was gaunt and he had the emancipated look of someone who seldom has a proper meal. However, there was a sense of strength in him, an unexplainable aura of dark power, which however inspired more fear than fealty.
The normally god-fearing Archana instinctively folded her hands, palms touching, with that well known gesture of respect - in this case - somehow tinged with fear.
She stood rooted to the spot, trying to decide in her mind whether to approach this godman or not. On one hand, with the new pregnancy, she instinctively wanted the blessings and comfort from divine sources - and this one seemed to have quite literally fallen on her lap; on the other hand, there was a small tug of fear, a deep unnatural cold grasp of terror from deep within her which warned her to turn away from this man - and never catch his attention - ever.
Archana was brought out of her indecision by a sudden deepthroated fierce growling. A brown stray - so common on the streets of India, had entered the open land from the bush in the back. Perhaps this is where it slept during the night, finding a comfortable resting spot amidst the shrubbery and hedges. Having found an intruder who had taken over what the dog must have considered to be its own territory, he had reacted the only way he knew how - baring its canines and letting out a low fiery growl to warn the human away.
Archana was shocked by what happened next. She was about to shout out a warning to the meditating godman, when the man opened his eyes and with a cruel and brutal swiftness picked up his trishul from where he had fixed it to the ground and threw it at the crouching canine nearly fifty feet away. It happened so quickly that the poor creature barely had a moment to react, its growl dying away as the trident easily found its mark - cracking his skull open and breaking its jaw. The sadhu approached the fatally injured animal, picking up his formidable weapon once again, ostensibly to finish the job.
Archana didn’t wait around to witness the horrific aftermath. Shocked to her very core by the swift brutality and instinctive boorish behaviour of the sadhu, she gave credence to the tightly coiled fear in her stomach and moved as quickly as she could, past Kanai’s small stationary shop and beyond the bend in the road which lead to the barb wire compound of the government superintendent - Nakul’s official workspace as well as the small living quarters in the back.
She reached the sanctuary of her house, securely fastening the door behind her, breathless not only due to the sudden enforced exercise, but more so because of the sudden brutality which she had just witnessed.
Suddenly exhausted and drained, Archana went into the tiny bedroom, most of the space taken up by the large king-size wooden bed. A wedding gift from her grandparents, the huge bed covered almost three quarters of the room, leaving just enough space to fit in the old fashioned steel almirah and a mirror fixed on a hook on the wall to serve as a makeshift dresser.
Archana lay down on the bed, nauseated and deeply troubled by the sudden violence she had witnessed. She could still hear the crunching noise when the heavy iron trident hit the leaping canine, its yelp of pain. She grabbed the thick woollen blanket from the top of the almirah, wrapped it around herself, and curled up on the bed. Suddenly wracked by deep sobs, Archana wept. Wept in sympathy for the poor stray dog which was just doing what stray canines are supposed to do. Wept perhaps due to the sudden change in hormones in her body. Wept due to exhaustion and all the changes happening and about to happen. But mostly Archana wept in fear. Fear of the Sadhu who had suddenly appeared at the edge of the village, perhaps promising piety and salvation, but also promising a deep, dark violence.
X
Life moved at a breakneck pace for Archana and Nakul. Busy with Nakul’s work as the government administrator of public works, Archana’s work at the nearby primary school as a clerical staff and of course, getting ready to welcome the new addition to their family. Soon, the horrifying encounter with the Sadhu was an almost forgotten memory in Archana’s mind.
The first time they had to go back to the district hospital for a check up, Archana was worried. She hadn’t shared the incident of her first meeting with the Kapalik with Nakul. She didn’t see the point of unnecessarily worrying him and on top of that she wanted to push the memory of that incident as far away from her mind as she could.
However when they walked down the road to the bus stop early in the morning to visit the hospital, Archana was relieved to see that the godmans encampment was empty. The small camp had grown, it had a look of permanence about it now. A makeshift wooden fence created a border around the clearing around the tree. A small but sturdy wooden shed with a thatched roof had been built, a place for the worshipper to shelter in during the cold nights of the north. The large tree at the centre of it all bore various vermillion marks of sindur and sandalwood - the common symbols of hindu worship. However the man himself was nowhere to be seen.
By some strange twist of fate, Archana never ran into the man on her many visits to the clinic, passing by his ever expanding house of worship. There were obvious signs of his presence, and Nakul mentioned having seen him nearly every day, but luckily through some mystical working, Archana never had to face the strange sadhu who had taken up residence in their village.
She heard about him quite often. The young girl who came in twice a day to help with the household chores, the old bearded vegetable seller who came tooting on his van each morning, her few friends and the infrequent neighbour who dropped by, all had news about Kripali Baba.
He was known to be extremely pious, a follower of the goddess Kaali, he was known to keep the most difficult penances for himself as he tried to get closer to his venerated deity.
He was powerful too, quite capable of curing even the most incurable diseases, helping treat cancerous growth in an old coolie, treating the deadly lung infection in another. He was also known to be particularly partial to helping mothers - whom he considered to be an embodiment of his revered deity - Maa Kaali.
He was known to sit on long fasts right before every new moon, on which night he would disappear from his makeshift ashram and be away for days at a time.
Archana listened to all these tales with only half a mind, as she was completely occupied with the process of becoming a mother.
With every passing week, the small foetus growing inside of her grew more into a human and neither Archana nor Nakul could wait to get their newborn out in the world. They spent long hours planning for the baby’s name - Rabi if it was a boy and Nisha for a girl.
Their little island of happiness got a new inhabitant soon enough, when a handsome little boy, healthy and hale, was born to them at the turn of autumn. Rabi had arrived.
A precocious child, he was truly the Sun of his parents’ lives - the angel around whom Archana and Nakul spent doting around forever. Born during the auspicious Durga Puja, Rabi got the first glimpse of the majestic goddess Durga when he was barely a day old, the ecstatic parents taking him to the Durga Temple in the village to get him blessed and anointed.
The first few days of the young Rabi’s life were filled with joy, with the joyous grandparents, various aunts and uncles all coming to visit the newborn and celebrating the auspicious blessings of Maa Durga quickly followed by the Bengali Laxmi Puja - the celebration of the goddess of wealth and good fortune!
However, after a few days, the relatives all left, leaving the newborn and the new parents to their own schedule. Nakul had to rejoin his office, having used up his vacation days, and right the next week, was asked to go to the district office for some new instructions. Even though Kaali Puja was the next day, Nakul had to make the early morning journey leaving the sleeping Rabi and anxious Archana behind.
Promising her that he would come back right after the urgent meeting called by the new superintendent, Nakul left for the bus stop. Even though winter was still a few months away, the days were shorter and the morning Sun wasn’t fully up, the road lit by the reddish glow of dawn filtering through the mist which was still slowly receding.
As he passed by the ever expanding adobe of Kripali Baba, as he had done a hundred times over the past year, he saw the sadhu sitting in the traditional lotus pose - deep in meditation.
Nakul brought his hands together clasping them briefly against his forehead in the traditional show of respect, before hurrying on his way to catch the bus from Dinhata.
Archana and Rabi had a pleasant morning, the mother son duo enjoying the sunshine in the small garden which they had just outside their cottage. Rabi lay on his back on the small plastic crib - a gift from an indulgent uncle, while Archana sat on a blanket next to him, singing him lullabies, laughing at the various expressions the newborn unwittingly made.
After giving him a massage with the baby oil, Archana gave him a quick bath in lukewarm water before feeding him and putting him down for a nap in their bedroom. She sat for a moment staring at her sleeping son, her heart full of joy and satisfaction.
However she had to get moving soon, the time the baby slept being the only window when she could get any of the household chores done. Even though the girl who helped out with the household chores took care of the more manual work, Archana still had to cook for herself and Nakul. She also washed all of baby Rabi’s clothes and knickknacks on her own, unable to trust anyone else with her baby’s things.
Finishing all the household chores took a while - Archana always had an ear cocked for the slightest stirring sound. Rabi was a light sleeper and would cry his eyes out if he woke up and didn’t find his mother next to him.
Finally done with all the chores, taking a quick min long bath, and scarfing down her lunch, Archana went to bed, lying down exhausted next to her baby.
Rain in the autumn months in Kunidanga isn’t unheard of, but it isn’t a common occurrence either. Thundershowers are definitely a more uncommon sight.
Archana woke up disoriented and scared at the clap of thunder which had crashed somewhere close by.
She hadn’t realised when she had dozed off, tired from the constant crushing routine which she had as a new mother. Now, awake, she was scared at the dark cloudy sky outside, the gusting wind, the clapping thunder.
She suddenly turned - where was Rabi? The small infant was nowhere on the bed! Archana let out a wail of despair, probably her precious baby had rolled over and fallen from the bed. But then why was he silent? Why was he not crying? Was he hurt?
She scrambled off the bed, searching for Rabi, but he wasn’t there.
He was hardly old enough to turn on his belly, so it wasn’t likely that he had crawled out of the room.
Desperately, with an anguished cry, Archana searched all around the tiny house, darkened by the storm approaching, with no power. The only source of light was the now near constant flashes of lightning.
The house was empty.
There was no Rabi.
Now completely panic stricken, Archana ran outside, ignoring the large drops of icy rain drenching her, the uneven unpaved road striking her bare feet.
The road was empty, no one had ventured out in this weather. The wind and the rain made it really hard to see anything.
Not knowing which way to go Archana ran towards the bus stop, for no good reason other than knowing that’s the direction Nakul would come back from.
She passed by Kripali Baba but he was nowhere to be seen. The rain was pouring down now and there were small puddles forming on the sodden ground around the thatched hut which Kripal Baba had built for himself.
Somehow drawn in by some irresistible fear and a deep sense of foreboding, Archana turned off the road and into the venerated plot, taking trepidation filled steps towards the drenched hut. The makeshift abode didn’t have a door, just a heavy rug hung from a string like a curtain.
Archana flung the curtain aside and stepped inside - it was empty. No sign of Kripali Baba. No sign of Rabi.
There was a rolled up mattress on one corner of the tiny space, a few change of clothes on a wooden pallet, acting as a cupboard, and a few odds and ends lying here and there.
Archana didn’t know what she was expecting but she ran back out, somehow relieved to have not found her son there in the sadhu’s hut but also more scared wondering where he might be.
Much later that evening Nakul came back to find a comatose Archana wailing while a few neighbouring women tried to console her. Shocked and desolate, Nakul rushed into the house, convinced that their little boy was hiding somewhere. He turned the entire cottage upside down but alas there was no sign of the missing child.
Minutes stretched to hours, hours into days. The hapless parents remained comatose, completely clueless about what might have happened to their child. Neighbours, relatives, well wishers all had some sort of advice or the other, but none which did anything to alleviate the pain and suffering the distraught couple was going through.
Even though Nakul was fraught with an unbearable sense of loss, Archana was comatose wracked by an overwhelming sense of guilt which sat like a suffocating weight on her chest. She had been castigating herself for falling asleep and not even realising that her baby wasn’t next to her anymore.
When she heard someone saying to go to Kaali temple near Salmara, the last village on the banks of the Torsa river before it entered Bangladesh, she made up her mind to go. She had heard that the deity in that temple was particularly powerful and particularly keen to the plight of mothers - apparently the temple had been built and consecrated by a mother in memory of her child who had drowned in the river many years ago.
Nakul didn’t object. Even though he had given up hope and accepted it in his mind that their Rabi was lost, he didn’t want to dissuade Archana. They started off that very afternoon, taking a rickety old van from a kind neighbour, taking the long winding muddy roads along the bank of the river.
The Kaali Temple was old and bore a deserted look. It didn’t live up to its reputation of hosting a powerful deity who never let mothers return empty handed. There was no rush of devotees, no sound of clanging bells, no smell of incense or cut fruits - all the common sensitivities which one found afflicted near a temple.
Archana and Nakul hadn’t given any thought of bringing any offerings, they did not come here for any elaborate ritual, just to pray to a powerful deity to help them find their child.
As they walked towards the temple, they were surprised to see a lone figure sitting on the entrance steps, smoking a beedi.
Kripali Baba seemed to be equally surprised to see the couple, though he didn’t really seem to acknowledge their presence. If he had a flicker of recognition for them, he hid it well; neither did he raise an eyebrow at the couple’s dishevelled, unkempt appearance.
It was getting dark, seemingly the beginnings of another storm. Nakul hurried Archana inside the temple, they had a long way to go back.
Archana sat in front of the deity, elevated on a black stone. The deity was different from the others of the same goddess which she had ever seen. It seemed to be carved out of the same black rock as the base on which sat, the features carved out of stone. Even though the masonry was excellent, the features of the goddess had harsh edges - harsher than normal perhaps. What was most striking was her eyes. They seemed to be glowing, a strange lifelike quality quite astonishing to see in a stone carved idol.
Archana poured her heart out, dry eyed as there were no more tears left in her, she prayed to the goddess as only a mother can. She promised all that she had and all that she hadn’t, promised her own life and an eternal servitude to the goddess to have her child back.
All she wanted was for her Rabi to be back. Back to his mother’s embrace - where he belonged.
The stone deity had no answer. There was no sign, no crash of thunder as a prompt from the almighty that her deepest entreaties were heard.
Dejected, desolate Archana couldn’t control herself as she felt that the last vestiges of hope which she was nurturing in her heart were now broken. Her Rabi was not going to come back to her.
Nakul held Archana up, tears of a deep inconsolable grief flowing down his own face.
They stepped back out of the temple to dark skies. The wind had picked up and the heavy rain laden cumulonimbus clouds were racing in from the horizon shading the scenery with a dark hue.
Nakul suddenly shrank back, pulling Archana back as well. Kripali Baba lay on the ground, face up, eyes open, not breathing.
Quite dead.
There was a gaping wound in his stomach, a bloody, raw puncture.
Inside out.
As if something inside his stomach had tried to crawl out. Crawl out in a hurry. As if, that something, was being summoned. Summoned by a mother.

Hello all!
Not sure if this is the right place to post. I am an elementary school teacher who is 16 weeks pregnant. 2 children in my class have come down with chickenpox in the past 2 days. Admin did not inform me of this verbally on either occasion. Instead, I received a little message on our online registration system - a system that is updated by 10 in the morning (after morning registration), so I would have only been able to check it when I refreshed for the afternoon session. That is, if you have time to check the system beyond the symbol for illness at all.
I have had chickenpox before but I am a) celiac and b) generally unwell this week (admin are aware of both of these things). It's made me very uneasy and incredibly concerned for my baby, especially as if they are not willing to tell me verbally about chickenpox then they won't be willing to tell me about other things either. I know that the likelihood is that all will be okay but I'm still worried. Any advice?

i (f22) & my ex (m24) broke up last wednesday. we had been together for a year & had a breakup this past october. our first breakup was due to him not meeting my needs & i initiated it. this time around, i was really struggling from working long hours & wasn’t able to pick up my antidepressant for 5 days due to the holiday weekend.
this recent breakup & had made rude comment after being inconsiderate (told me he would make us breakfast, but only made it for himself) then told me that if i was hungry that i should leave to get food. i left & when i got home, in a rage packed up all of his things.
everytime we get into an argument, he goes ghost for atleast 24 hours or shuts down during conflict & comes back like nothing happened. i had texted him this time after i left to come over & talk since i didn’t want to have a discussion like that in his parents house (i live alone).
i hadn’t heard from him for 3 hours & when he came over i had finally kinda walked myself off the ledge of my emotions, but forgot that i had packed up his stuff by the door.
during our conversation i told him that i was going through a lot personally & just needed him to be there for me. that when i have outside anxieties/life problems that him pulling away only adds to that stress in my life.
he ended up leaving & initiating the breakup. i told him i wasn’t going to keep doing this back & forth. we haven’t spoken since.
when we broke up in october, he made out with someone else two days after. he asked my friend & i for a 3some three weeks later & was talking bad about me to our mutual friends.
during this time, i got really close to our mutual friend & he would tell me everything ex would say about me. “he said he never loved you”, he was talking to this girl (someone we all were friends with) before you were dating & during, x, y, z.
looking back i know this friend was manipulating me, but out of retaliation towards ex’s hurtful things, i hooked up with said friend when blackout drunk. it happened again a few weeks later, but i don’t remember.
in november he showed up with flowers, crying & begging for me back, & i took him back. we dove into the hurt & tried to work through it. this time around we distanced from many of those friends (me more so after finding out about being taken advantage of without knowing), but ex stayed friends with him.
this time around, i wanted to handle this with as much grace as possible. i no longer hangout with mutual friends, unfollowed many & have just been taking care of myself. i took the week off work & have really been focusing on my mental health. he had a mutual friend drop off my phone charger & i kept it very cordial & focused on him, not about the breakup.
also, during our relationship he never once posted me on instagram or unfollowed random bumble hookups. however he did unfriend the girl friend he was talking to in the beginning.
after the breakup he began posting on his stories, so i unfollowed him to save myself that hurt. the next day i notice he unfollowed me as well. i had posted something while out at dinner with gf & noticed that he viewed it while not following me, so i turned my account private.
today i saw that he re-followed that girl that he was talking to at the same time as me.
i just feel so hurt, he always plays this game & im done. i wanted this to be mature & i learned from my past mistakes of hurting him back. i wanted to handle it this time with a lot of grace, to prove to myself that im not a malicious person & that i want to grow & be better.
i know its a cycle that he’s continuing to play. i know that i need to remain graceful & focus on me, because i can only control my reaction, but how do i deal with this? i love him, but can’t keep dealing with the hurt. how do i get out of a toxic cycle?

Muad-dib, the desert kangaroo mouse that always finds the way to life. Lisan Al-Gaib, the voice from the out of this world. Kwisatz Haderach, He whose prescience shortens the path to progress.
Why are you being subjected to the messianic prophecies from Dune, a novel written by Frank Herbert, a 20th century Journalist fascinated by the exotic culture of the Levant (Middle East) and North Africa?
Because it explains PERFECTLY where Boruto is going. And I do mean PERFECTLY.
The Jougan is clearly meant to depict the full moon in a jet-black sky. For millenia, ancient cultures relied on the moon as the eternal augur, the symbol in the sky of things to come.
Why, though?
Was it because the lunar cycle was ancient humanity's first indicator of the passing of time? Perhaps because the lunar cycle matches the cycle of female Homo sapient, granting a rudimentary prediction of women's fertility and thus life? Or just maybe, because early humanity's few predators (big cats), already conditioned to view us as a last resort when all other prey failed them, resorted to hunting during the full moon, whose brightness made hunting their usual quarry more difficult without the cover of dark.
Either way, the early human's reliance on the moon as a foreteller of events spread globally with our ancestors, becoming a worldwide phenomenom.
And this has carried on to Boruto.
As Boruto (anime) fans, there is no need to subject you to a recounting of EVERYTIME he has used the Jougan. But invite you to revisit these occupancies, from him parrying the 360 vision Byakugan in the fight against Momoshiki to land a critical blow, to his 'knowing' from where Urashiki would emerge.
The Jougan is the perfect counter to ALLA dojutsu because it grants foresight into endless outcomes, ensuring that the user, if properly trained, can always gain the upper hand.
Think Dr. Strange, and his ability to peer into endless futures to design the defeat of Thanos.
No doubt it would have its drawbacks, but that is the essence of the dojutsu.
And the Dune franchise perfectly illustrates how.
The saga follows the journey of Paul Atreides, a young man eugenically bred by a cult to develop precognition, as he evolves from being able to vaguely see some possible consequences of his actions to clearly seeing all possible futures for millennia to come.
This transformation matches prophecies across different cultures, from that of the 'Kwisatz Haderach', which holds that a eugenically bred male would ultimately save humanity from extinction, to the 'Lisan al-Gaib', the messianic figure from outer space destined to lead an oppressed people to paradise.
A cherry on the top: Paul's eye color - a stark blue, even matches Boruto's Jougan.
And there it is. Mark this post. Place your bets now. And see you in the future.

i (f22) & my ex (m24) broke up last wednesday. we had been together for a year & had a breakup this past october. our first breakup was due to him not meeting my needs & i initiated it. this time around, i was really struggling from working long hours & wasn’t able to pick up my antidepressant for 5 days due to the holiday weekend.
this recent breakup & had made rude comment after being inconsiderate (told me he would make us breakfast, but only made it for himself) then told me that if i was hungry that i should leave to get food. i left & when i got home, in a rage packed up all of his things.
everytime we get into an argument, he goes ghost for atleast 24 hours or shuts down during conflict & comes back like nothing happened. i had texted him this time after i left to come over & talk since i didn’t want to have a discussion like that in his parents house (i live alone).
i hadn’t heard from him for 3 hours & when he came over i had finally kinda walked myself off the ledge of my emotions, but forgot that i had packed up his stuff by the door.
during our conversation i told him that i was going through a lot personally & just needed him to be there for me. that when i have outside anxieties/life problems that him pulling away only adds to that stress in my life.
he ended up leaving & initiating the breakup. i told him i wasn’t going to keep doing this back & forth. we haven’t spoken since.
when we broke up in october, he made out with someone else two days after. he asked my friend & i for a 3some three weeks later & was talking bad about me to our mutual friends.
during this time, i got really close to our mutual friend & he would tell me everything ex would say about me. “he said he never loved you”, he was talking to this girl (someone we all were friends with) before you were dating & during, x, y, z.
looking back i know this friend was manipulating me, but out of retaliation towards ex’s hurtful things, i hooked up with said friend when blackout drunk. it happened again a few weeks later, but i don’t remember.
in november he showed up with flowers, crying & begging for me back, & i took him back. we dove into the hurt & tried to work through it. this time around we distanced from many of those friends (me more so after finding out about being taken advantage of without knowing), but ex stayed friends with him.
this time around, i wanted to handle this with as much grace as possible. i no longer hangout with mutual friends, unfollowed many & have just been taking care of myself. i took the week off work & have really been focusing on my mental health. he had a mutual friend drop off my phone charger & i kept it very cordial & focused on him, not about the breakup.
also, during our relationship he never once posted me on instagram or unfollowed random bumble hookups. however he did unfriend the girl friend he was talking to in the beginning.
after the breakup he began posting on his stories, so i unfollowed him to save myself that hurt. the next day i notice he unfollowed me as well. i had posted something while out at dinner with gf & noticed that he viewed it while not following me, so i turned my account private.
today i saw that he re-followed that girl that he was talking to at the same time as me.
i just feel so hurt, he always plays this game & im done. i wanted this to be mature & i learned from my past mistakes of hurting him back. i wanted to handle it this time with a lot of grace, to prove to myself that im not a malicious person & that i want to grow & be better.
i know its a cycle that he’s continuing to play. i know that i need to remain graceful & focus on me, because i can only control my reaction, but how do i deal with this? i love him, but can’t keep dealing with the hurt. how do i get out of a toxic cycle?

“Before I met the Savior, I was a worthless piece of garbage, barely a human being,” Lovebug droned at the front of the enormous room. Lovebug was a monster of a man, two-hundred and fifty pounds of hard tattooed muscle. Like myself, he was a high-ranking member of the Church.
His flat gray eyes scanned the room with a fanatical gleam. I sat in the first row, watching and waiting. Followers of the Savior would tell their stories, how the Savior had reached down and lifted them out of sin and filth to bring them up to the divine. The bright fluorescent lights overhead droned on with a low hum. Thousands of men crammed together in seats or stood at the back of the room.
The Savior taught only two commandments: to murder is holy, and to die for the Savior is the highest bliss. An army of warriors followed the Savior, knights on a holy crusade, priests who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the foul bodies of any witches or demons we encountered. I thought of myself as a knight for the holy king, our Savior, the mouthpiece of the eternal.
“Now, it is like the hand of God has reached into my heart and loosened all the knots there, the knots of anxiety and fear and uncertainty.” He raised his black, military-style rifle into the air for emphasis. “I never realized the true nature of reality before- the fact that we are living in a simulation where the final battle of good versus evil is playing out before our very eyes. And I will be on the side of the good, until my dying breath. I will be on the side of the Savior and of God!”
The crowd roared and clapped. Men got to their feet, sweating heavily in the boiling hot conference room. I felt the surge of energy pass through me like a tidal wave, the pure confidence and iron will of truth. Lovebug lumbered down off the stage as the Savior came out from behind the red curtains, walking with the straight spine of a soldier. He wore a silky black robe that fluttered softly around him, the hood pulled back.
The Savior had horrific burns running the length of his body. His arms had melted folds of keloid scars visible all the way to the tips of his fingers. His scalp had also melted, and the Savior had no hair except for his eyelashes and eyebrows. But the fire that had nearly killed him had spared his face, an aristocratic visage with ferocious green eyes like those of a cat. That face seemed like it had been sculpted out of marble by DaVinci himself, the high cheekbones jutting out over a chin so sharp that it looked like it could have hammered nails into boards. He stared out at the crowd for a long moment, his gaze unblinking.
“The final battle has begun,” he said in a low voice, no more than a whisper. Yet, in the deathly silence of the hall, his words rang out loud and clear. “Those in charge of this illusory world know that we see them. We see them very well, how they hide behind the curtain. They control the world economy, the justice system. Every government, whether they call themselves communist, authoritarian or democratic, is no more than a puppet in their dancing fingers.
“When anyone tries to stand up and lead the masses of suffering people towards freedom from slavery, they are vilified by the mainstream media, brought up on false charges or killed, their bodies staged to look like a suicide. Look what they did to Jesus, and for what? For telling people to love God more than their rulers? And those who speak out today are also crucified, murdered in prisons or killed by their governments. Truth is the most precious commodity, after all. It is one that can only be purchased with blood.
“So what can we do? How can we fight against such evil?” There was a quiet muttering among the pale, frozen faces that stared up at the stage with adoration and love.
“We can fight it by using their own weapons against them!” the Savior said, his voice rising in speed and pitch. He raised his fisted hands to his chest, accentuating each syllable with a back and forth stab of his hands. “Fight fire with fire, and pay back blood with blood! The only thing these global terrorists understand is greater levels of force. We must show them death on a scale they have never before imagined.” I felt nervous as the Savior delivered his message. I saw other men shuffle anxiously in the crowded auditorium, most of them having high-caliber rifles slung around their shoulders.
I felt the rising violence and bloodlust in the air like electricity before a lightning storm. At that moment, I knew we would all have to fight before too long.
***
The Savior called me and Lovebug back to his office after the speech had ended, sending his squirrely assistant over to deliver the hand-written note in the Savior’s blocky, copperplate handwriting. For a long moment, I simply watched the crowd filtering out of the doors, heading back towards the complex where all the holy soldiers of the Savior lived. Feeling dissociated and light-headed, I followed behind the massive muscular form of Lovebug, the heavy weight of the M16 bouncing against my chest. We pushed through the blood-red velvet curtains, winding our way past stage equipment and down a hallway of pure marble.
Mystical paintings similar to those of Alex Grey covered both walls, showing the inside workings of the human body through art. It was as if the painter had X-ray vision and could see the heart chakra and the countless thin vessels that spiderwebbed up to the crown. But, unlike Alex Grey’s hopeful depictions of mysticism, these showed men and women being burned alive, crucified, decapitated or strangled. Dark colors composed the paintings: the dark blue of a suffocating face, the clotted red of an infected stab wound, the black of death. They captured the essence of struggle perfectly.
The Savior’s office had a thick mahogany door with silver engravings of leaves and vines running the length of it. At the top stood a single staring eye with twelve wavy tentacles emerging from the perimeter of it- the symbol of God, who the Savior had seen personally. God would sometimes speak through the mouth of the Savior, always during times of great tribulation or suffering. Lovebug knocked at the door. The Savior’s deep voice echoed out faintly.
“Come in.”
We entered slowly, the sprawling desk of the Savior filling half of the room. He sat in a comfortable chair behind it, reclining. On the walls behind him, he had pictures of Jesus, Saint Stephen, Gandhi, Hitler, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara and others who he taught had fought against the world elites and been killed for it.
The Church of the Final Rapture was not a church in the conventional sense. The main teachings didn’t revolve around the divinity of Christ or the nature of original sin. What the Savior taught was far more profound- an illusory or simulated world where every single person could become their own Christ, could awaken to the truth and perform miracles, but only if they believed fully and followed the Savior.
“Sit down, please,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I have a mission I would like to discuss, and you two are the only ones competent and loyal enough to carry it out.”
***
“There is another anomaly spreading,” the Savior said, staring between me and Lovebug with his fanatical emerald eyes. “It is located in a rural part of the United States, in a town called-” he glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him- “Frost Hollow. Supposedly, there are black-ops sites located nearby, secret alphabet agencies experimenting with magnetic distortion systems and creating rips in the fabric of spacetime with micro-wormholes.
“I don’t think it is much of a leap to say that the anomaly was likely started, either intentionally or unintentionally, by the government, as part of their research. The Cleaners would like to control that power, after all. They have been sending their men after it for years like sheep to the slaughter, expending billions of dollars researching it. If they and the US government end up being able to control the creation and spread of anomalies, they will use it to enslave the world. There is no question about it in my mind.” He leaned forwards towards us, his eyes growing cold.
“There is only one path forward I can see. We need to spread the anomaly, make it become unstable so the demons of Hell contained within it can spill out onto the real world. Perhaps it will awaken the downtrodden masses enough to begin the final revolution. We must fight terrorism with greater terrorism, and violence with greater levels of violence. For this mission, I am sending the two of you into Frost Hollow.
“Your job will be to find the Titan or Titans and lead them out to the border of the anomaly. These are horrendous beasts- indeed, the Church has seen them before. They are nearly impossible to kill. I want you two to go inside, bait it and have it follow you back to the edge, beyond the veil.”
“What’s a Titan?” Lovebug asked, his eyes flicking left and right nervously. The Savior stared at him stonily for a long moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. All the blood seemed to drain from his face. His teeth chattered, his mouth opened, and through it, God spoke, the words pouring out like crashing stones. The voice did not sound anything like the Savior’s. It sounded much deeper, more mechanical, more alien somehow.
“I see you very well. I saw you when you were no more than a blood clot in your mother’s body. I see you even as corpses, rotted, putrefying, crawling with scavengers and insects. I see everything, every moment of time. But, in the anomaly, there are things I cannot see. For this, my holy ones must go forth.
“In the center of Hell, you will find a rose, a bird and a stone. These will be your salvation, if salvation can be found at all. Go with the blessing of Yaldabaoth.” The voice cut off abruptly, the silence deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears.
The Savior’s eyes came back down, looking confused and uncertain. His pupils were dilated and he was sweating heavily, even though it was cool and air-conditioned back here in his private office. We stared at each other across the table, a no-man’s land that protected me like a shield. For there seemed to be something dark in the Savior along with the light, and I didn’t know if any man could contain that power.
But there was no question of disobeying. Within the hour, Lovebug and I were on one of the Church’s private jets flying to the town of Frost Hollow.
***
The gently rolling hills of Frost Hollow loomed below us as the plane circled the small dirt airstrip in the middle of some cow farms. I looked up at Lovebug, trying to judge his stony expression. He had done many years in prison before joining the Church and finding salvation, even being the leader of one of the gangs. I knew he wasn’t afraid of violence. He had never told me what he did, what tortured him so much.
The Savior had told us much secret knowledge- how to find a Titan, a massive, bloated abomination that could come into being only within an anomaly, a combination of many rotted body pieces fused together in some sort of hellish black magic. The Savior had spies around Frost Hollow and the surrounding towns who had been monitoring the anomaly, watching the unstable gateways leading in and out and mapping them as best they could. We would be given a fast car, plenty of weapons and some body armor. I had no idea how nightmarish the journey would become, however.
“I’m driving,” Lovebug said as we descended the steps. A man in a black suit with the symbol of the eye and tentacles pinned on his black button-up shirt pulled up with a Mercedes AMG-One. It was a sleek, silver thing of immense luxury and power. The craftsmanship made it look like a work of art. I sighed, keeping my finger nervously on the trigger of my rifle as I glanced around the strange, empty town.
“If this thing won’t outrun a Titan, then nothing will,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked at the speedometer, seeing it went up to 220 miles an hour.
“Damn fucking right,” Lovebug growled as we slid into the futuristic-looking leather seats. The engine turned on like a softly purring kitten. The GPS automatically turned on as well, the soft robotic voice leading us toward one of the more stable portals to the anomaly.
Lovebug sped down the empty forest roads of Frost Hollow, going twice the legal speed limit the entire way.
“The speed limit is only for the lowest common denominator,” Lovebug said pedantically, waggling a tattooed finger for emphasis. The GPS said we would reach the gateway to the anomaly in five minutes. Based on Lovebug’s speed, I thought it would be more like two. “Someone who actually knows how to drive and isn’t drunk or high can easily do 80 in a 40. Easily.” I glanced nervously at the speedometer, realizing he was going over 100 miles an hour now. The sports car hugged the tight corners of the winding forest roads with absolute precision.
“Turn right onto Snake Island Road Extension in five hundred feet,” the robotic female voice. Lovebug slammed on the brakes a few seconds later, the tires skidding and locking up. We looked around frantically, seeing no streets anywhere except the one we were on.
“What the hell?” Lovebug asked. The night was crawling in by now, the darkness covering the forests like a curtain. I squinted, looking at the thick grove of trees on our right, scanning it back and forth over and over. After a few seconds, I realized there was an overgrown dirt path there with no sign. It was nearly impossible to see at night, however, and calling it a road was somewhat of a joke.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “They should’ve given us an SUV.”
***
According to the GPS, our destination was only a thousand feet down Snake Island Road Extension. The low clearance of the Mercedes was a problem as Lovebug tried to navigate the flooded forest path. Deep tread marks flooded with black, stagnant water marked the entirety of Snake Island Road Extension. But ahead, the headlights illuminated something unusual.
Cutting straight across the trees and brush like a razorblade was a shimmering wall of translucent energy. It reminded me of a mirage, curving upwards in wavy spiral patterns. I could see through it easily, but it gave everything a dark, sinister covering. The forest seemed to be in constant motion as the grayish light distorted it.
“Look how huge it is!” I said in awe, staring up at the starry sky. The flat wall rose up seemingly forever, disappearing in the cold void of infinite space. Lovebug slowly ambled the car towards the anomaly, trying to keep the Mercedes from getting stuck with its low clearance.
“You ready for this, man?” Lovebug asked in a quavering voice as we inched towards the anomaly. It was only seconds away now. He grabbed my shoulder. “This is it. Remember the commandments.” I closed my eyes, concentrating my heart on the Savior’s words. Dying for the good is the highest bliss, he had told us.
“Let’s do this,” I said, my eyes flying open from my silent prayer as the hood passed through the anomaly. It disappeared in front of our eyes. We could see the forest on the other side, but the Mercedes looked like it was going through some sort of teleportation portal, being ripped apart layer by layer and sent somewhere else. Lovebug nervously grabbed my hand.
“For the Savior and for the Good,” he whispered as we passed through.
***
I heard screaming and wailing, full of agony and unimaginable horror, like the screams of those burning in Hell. My vision went white. A carpet of morphing dark colors covered everything as the shrieking intensified, until I thought my eardrums would explode.
“Stop!” I cried, feeling the pressure in my head like a splitting migraine. “Stop screaming!” I started kicking, punching, trying to get away.
“Calm the fuck down!” someone whispered, slapping me hard across the face. Stunned, I looked up, seeing Lovebug holding me down in the seat. He was covered in sweat, his face a blank mask of terror. “Don’t scream. There’s things outside that are looking this way.” I blinked fast, my senses coming back to me. I felt like a man waking up from surgery, confused and disoriented, my memories only returning in small trickles and drops.
We were sitting in the Mercedes on a road that looked like it had been made of human skin. The headlights showed the ragged patches of pale, leathery flesh sewn together with black thread. The road disappeared ahead of us in a straight line. The land here looked as flat as an ocean. Like a mirror world, it had houses and restaurants and churches lining both sides of the road, but they were all wrong.
The stone church looked like it was constructed of some kind of red volcanic rock. Baphomets and upside-down pentagrams covered the outer walls, engraved deeply into the glossy surface. Mutilated bodies covered the front lawn, impaled, crucified, skinned alive or burned at the stake. Hundreds of men, women and children lay dead in front of the Satanic temple.
Overhead, the sky bubbled and frothed with red clouds and constant explosions of blue lightning. Like missile flashes, the lightning illuminated the world around us, shining brightly before going dark. The incessant strobing gave the entire place a kind of circus freakshow vibe.
Many of the homes looked like they had been constructed from bones and covered in human skin, like some sort of hellish teepee. Arm and leg bones wrapped in razor-wire formed the pillars. Grinning skulls lined the top of the flat, rectangular roofs, thousands of bleached human heads staring down.
Staring out of the dark doorways, I saw gleaming, silvery eyes. They loomed eight or nine feet in the air on spidery bodies. Their limbs looked as thin as bones, jet-black and dull. The only color from these still revenants was from their unblinking eyes and grinning mouths, where teeth like those of a dragonfish jutted out. Every pair of eyes on that street was fixed intently on the Mercedes, the sick rictus grins on their alien faces never faltering.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling weak. “I thought I was in a nightmare for a minute there.” Lovebug shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I felt it too, though I came out of it a lot faster than you did,” he said, glancing over at the Satanic church as we passed. It had protective black spikes rising high into the air all around it. The broken body of a child who had been burnt at the stake stood in front of the gates like a death omen, his small, withered hand holding a black rose. Lovebug choked, retching. He nearly rolled down the window, until his eyes met the silvery ones of a nearby abomination.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking closer at the church. On top of the roof, I saw an enormous statue of a black raven, its wings spread as if it were flying. It had three gleaming, silvery eyes embedded into the dark rock.
“That boy just reminds me of my son,” Lovebug whispered glumly, inching along the streets.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” I said, surprised. Lovebug had never mentioned a family. He shrugged.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I killed him. I got drunk and high one night back when I was selling drugs. Fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette and burned down the whole house. I killed my wife and son, burned them. They sent me to prison, but what did that matter? The prison up here is far worse.” He tapped the side of his temple.
I was about to say something, but at that moment, many things happened at once.
***
Lovebug was staring at the corpse of the child when an inhumanly long arm reached up from the side of the car. It had fingers like spikes, as sharp as a knife and twice as long as normal human fingers. I gasped, a warning shout welling up in my throat, but the hand came smashing down into the driver’s side window and grabbed Lovebug’s neck.
The window exploded in a shower of safety glass, shattering like brittle bones. Lovebug’s scream was cut off as he was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the car. I swung open my door, leaping out and bringing my rifle around.
The Cheshire Cat grin of the abomination never faltered as it held Lovebug in front of its body like a human shield, holding him by the neck above the ground. Lovebug’s legs kicked and squirmed, his face turning blue as he slowly suffocated. His eyes bulged from their sockets, panicked and rolling, uncomprehending in their total animal panic.
I flicked on the laser sight. It danced over the ground, flashing over the body of Lovebug and the abomination. But I couldn’t aim for its torso or face, as I would probably hit Lovebug in the process. It was far too close.
I aimed for the monster’s thin, skeletal feet, the black toes twisting over each other like the roots of a tree. The gunshots rang out as a deafening counterpoint to the thunder blasts.
The monster gave a hissing gurgle as two bullets caught it in the right ankle. The creature seemed bloodless, and only dust and ashes rolled out of the exploded insectile flesh. It tried to skitter away, but its destroyed ankle caused it to fall forward, throwing Lovebug.
His body rolled across the road, the soft leather that looked like it was made from tens of thousands of human skins. Gasping, his lips still showing a faint blue cast, he struggled to crawl away.
I saw furtive movement from all around us. The creatures in the houses and doorways were moving forwards, drawn by the bloodshed or noise. Hundreds of glowing, silvery eyes surrounded us. I sprinted forward, dragging Lovebug to his feet.
“The church,” I hissed. “It’s the only place.” Still pulling the weak, confused Lovebug behind me, we staggered towards the black gates. They opened with a shriek of rusted metal.
***
The creatures stopped at the gates to the blood-red church, simply staring at us like statues. They didn’t even seem to breathe, their lidless eyes never blinking, the silvery glow never fading.
“I think this is the place we’re meant to go,” I whispered as we made our way towards the massive pointed doors. “When God spoke to us, he said something about a stone, a bird and a rose, that we would find the Titan through that.” I pointed back at the burnt body of the boy. “He’s holding a rose. On top of the building, there’s a bird. And the church is all stone. Maybe this is the place where God wanted us to go all along.”
“Maybe,” Lovebug muttered through heaving gasps, still grabbing at his bruised neck. “God, this hurts. It feels like I got hanged.” Side by side, we pushed open the doors to the Satanic church and walked inside.
***
Row after row of pews stretched out in front of us. Thousands of black candles were set up all around the perimeter of the enormous chamber. They sputtered and flickered constantly, throwing dancing shadows in every direction.
A small pair of bright eyes glanced up at us from under one of the nearby pews. I nearly jumped out of my skin, pointing the rifle at them and yelling.
“Show yourself! Come out now, or I shoot!” Lovebug looked at me, confused. He hadn’t seen it. But a few heartbeats later, a little girl crawled out, her eyes big and blue, her body an emaciated wreck. She wore ripped strands of what looked like leathery human skin to cover herself, tied together with black string. In one small, grime-streaked hand, she held a half-eaten raw mouse.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said in a small voice. “I’m Emma. My mommy and daddy got dragged away and I’m scared.” I felt sick and weak looking at this small victim. I reached down and helped her up.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, kneeling down to her level. “I thought you were one of the bad guys. This is Lovebug, and I’m Jack.”
“This isn’t part of the mission, man,” Lovebug said nervously. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just fucking leave her here,” I whispered back. “We need…” But I never got to finish that thought. Because, at that moment, the church woke up.
***
A red glow started at the front of the chamber, the altar where the priest would have stood and given speeches or holy communion. Here, they had a podium that looked like it was carved from a single block of obsidian. Reflected in it, I saw the screaming faces of people burning in Hell, grinning demons ripping off strips of human flesh and spiraling waves of flames, all sculpted by an artist who was able to capture the most miniscule details of agony and torture.
I looked around, realizing Emma had gone. I hadn’t seen her scurry away and hide, but her absence gave me a feeling of crushing dread in my chest.
“Lovebug, something’s wrong,” I whispered, still staring up at the altar. I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I glanced back just in time to see a man wearing full SWAT gear. I caught the flash of a pistol coming down, the butt aimed at my forehead. I heard the cracking, felt the immense pressure and pain. For a few moments, I swam in the currents of consciousness, trying to stay awake, but then the blackness crept in and stole me away.
***
I awoke suddenly, my hands tied so tightly behind my back that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I felt sick and wanted to throw up. I quickly choked those feelings back down. I tried to shake my head, to clear it, but that just brought jolts of pain like electricity shooting through my skull. Nearby, I heard a gunshot, then another.
“Bring it, fuckers!” Lovebug screamed in an insane voice. The explosion of a grenade rocked the building, and I smelled choking black smoke. I opened my eyes, seeing three men in SWAT gear laying dead, their bodies scattered haphazardly around the chaotic scene. One wall of the church had blown outwards, the stone still sending out gray wisps of wavy smoke into the air. I looked at my partner, seeing he had a bullet hole in his left arm and another one in his stomach. He was bleeding heavily, but the adrenaline and insanity seemed to keep him afloat- for now, at least.
I saw something walking towards us from the stage. It looked like a small boy, but black shadows spiraled up around his chest and face, translucent and shimmering darkly. He looked about five or six, his skin pale and smooth. As Lovebug’s face grew slack and distant, the boy abruptly erupted into flames.
“Don’t kill me again, Dad,” the small boy whispered in a hoarse voice choked with pain. The flames rose from his head and skin, melting his flesh, blackening it. Drops of boiling fat dribbled off his nose and chin. “Don’t send me to the dark place again, Dad…” He continued creeping closer to Lovebug, moving like a lion stalking an antelope.
“I didn’t know!” Lovebug cried, his face going paler. Tears streamed from his eyes as the rifle trembled wildly in his shaking hands. For a long moment, he looked torn, the finger tightening on the trigger as sobs escaped his chattering lips.
“Kill it, Lovebug!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to you!” But as he dropped the rifle and knelt before the small boy, I knew it was too late.
The shadows spun faster and faster around the burning, dying body of the boy. He gave a scream of soul-shattering agony, reaching out to a small hand towards Lovebug.
“Help me!” the boy cried. Lovebug hesitated before bringing an arm up to take the boy’s hand.
“I missed you, Robbie,” Lovebug said before his fingers brushed the boys. The boy lunged forward, grabbing Lovebug’s hand with an iron grip. I saw Lovebug’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. A moment later, I heard the bones in his hand grinding together before breaking with a sound like snapping tree branches. The boy’s eyes darkened into jet-black orbs, the melted lips splitting into a sadistic grin.
“I missed you, too,” the thing hissed as its right arm changed, melting and reforming into something black and blade-like. The insectile limb swung forward in a blur, coming straight at Lovebug’s heart. He gave a panicked squeal a moment before it hit, trying to pull away with all of his considerable strength, his face turning chalk-white as the shattered bones in his hands ground together.
I closed my eyes, rolling away, trying to undo the knots that held my hands in place. Lovebug must have been greatly outnumbered. He would never have let that man tie me up. I heard the sounds of tearing meat and crunching bone nearby. Lovebug’s final breaths gurgled through the air, but I still kept my eyes closed, not wanting to look.
I felt a small tickle on my wrists, then heard a little voice next to my ear.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Emma whispered. I waited a few moments, then I heard the ropes snap. I looked back, seeing her holding a piece of sharp, broken glass in one tiny hand. In her other, she had the car keys. I wondered how she had gotten them, the little pickpocket.
“Thank God,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I looked around for my rifle, seeing it was laying next to the body of one of the SWAT guys. I wondered who these men were. I crawled towards it slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
“Don’t move another step,” a voice growled behind me. I glanced back, seeing the small boy, his features morphing into those of a demon. Curving horns spiraled from his temples. His jet-black eyes stared down at me with hatred and coldness. “You’ll follow your friend who killed my servants. His soul will stay alive forever within my body, a sickly thing wrapped up in an eternal shriek.”
“Fuck you,” I cried, lunging for my rifle. Emma disappeared behind a pew, running on all fours without looking back. I spun as I hit the ground, turning the barrel towards the morphing face of the shape-shifter. Its jaw unhinged, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it flew through the air towards me. Hollow fangs dripping clear venom grew from its mouth in a heartbeat, elongating and sharpening before my very eyes.
I fired twice, the bullets entering through its mouth and coming out the back of its head. Its flesh disintegrated in an instant, the body turning into light, gray ashes that disappeared in the breeze. Breathing hard, I waited, wondering if it was all over.
I heard a rumbling far below me, as if an earthquake were starting. A moment later, the church floor exploded upwards, sharp rubble and splintered boards flying in every direction.
***
“It’s coming!” Emma screamed, running over and grabbing my hand. I lay there, shell-shocked and unmoving for a long moment. In hindsight, the girl was a natural born survivor with much sharper reflexes than me. It was likely the only reason she survived as long as she had.
“The Titan,” I whispered grimly, trying to pull myself up to my feet. But it was like trying to walk on a heaving, sinking ship. Parts of the floor collapsed down into a seemingly never-ending abyss beneath us.
Near the stage, I saw hundreds of long, pale arms pulling something bloated and monstrous out of the ground. It was a Titan, and no explanation can ever convey the true horror of that thing.
It looked like countless human corpses had been melted together, fused into a ball with sagging, boneless chests, deformed faces and millions of writhing maggots. It groaned and gurgled with many lungs, exhaling a rotting, sulfurous breeze that made me want to retch. A soft susurration of many pained, muttering voices continuously emanated from the Titan.
“Emma, run!” I screamed, but she was already sprinting back towards the front door of the church. I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the creeping monstrosity, the juggernaut of rotting flesh moving towards us.
I heard the Titan closing the distance as I sprinted through the front door. The abominations with the silver eyes still slunk around the gate, blocking the car. I raised the rifle, firing blindly at the creatures, careful not to hit the little girl.
“Go to the car!” I screamed at Emma, feeling around for the keys. As the abominations saw the Titan, those still alive scattered, moving in a blur back into the shadows and homes of this rotten place.
The Titan broke the front wall of the church, sending splinters of red stone flying in every direction like bullets. It groaned and gurgled faster, its sickly cries more insistent. I ran to the Mercedes, starting it up and pressing the accelerator to the floor. I pulled a U-turn, heading back to the border of the anomaly.
***
The engine roared, the car bucking like a wild stallion as it pressed me and Emma back into our seats. But the creeping Titan continued gaining speed behind us, and for a few seconds, I feared we would be crushed to death under its massive weight.
The anomaly shimmered ahead of us. I crashed through it at two hundred miles an hour, skidding wildly as the Mercedes hit the dirt road. I nearly flew into a tree. I managed to right it at the last second, pulling onto the paved street as the Titan broke through behind us.
It followed us out. It’s in the real world now.

i (f22) & my ex (m24) broke up last wednesday. we had been together for a year & had a breakup this past october. our first breakup was due to him not meeting my needs & i initiated it. this time around, i was really struggling from working long hours & wasn’t able to pick up my antidepressant for 5 days due to the holiday weekend.
this recent breakup & had made rude comment after being inconsiderate (told me he would make us breakfast, but only made it for himself) then told me that if i was hungry that i should leave to get food. i left & when i got home, in a rage packed up all of his things.
everytime we get into an argument, he goes ghost for atleast 24 hours or shuts down during conflict & comes back like nothing happened. i had texted him this time after i left to come over & talk since i didn’t want to have a discussion like that in his parents house (i live alone).
i hadn’t heard from him for 3 hours & when he came over i had finally kinda walked myself off the ledge of my emotions, but forgot that i had packed up his stuff by the door.
during our conversation i told him that i was going through a lot personally & just needed him to be there for me. that when i have outside anxieties/life problems that him pulling away only adds to that stress in my life.
he ended up leaving & initiating the breakup. i told him i wasn’t going to keep doing this back & forth. we haven’t spoken since.
when we broke up in october, he made out with someone else two days after. he asked my friend & i for a 3some three weeks later & was talking bad about me to our mutual friends.
during this time, i got really close to our mutual friend & he would tell me everything ex would say about me. “he said he never loved you”, he was talking to this girl (someone we all were friends with) before you were dating & during, x, y, z.
looking back i know this friend was manipulating me, but out of retaliation towards ex’s hurtful things, i hooked up with said friend when blackout drunk. it happened again a few weeks later, but i don’t remember.
in november he showed up with flowers, crying & begging for me back, & i took him back. we dove into the hurt & tried to work through it. this time around we distanced from many of those friends (me more so after finding out about being taken advantage of without knowing), but ex stayed friends with him.
this time around, i wanted to handle this with as much grace as possible. i no longer hangout with mutual friends, unfollowed many & have just been taking care of myself. i took the week off work & have really been focusing on my mental health. he had a mutual friend drop off my phone charger & i kept it very cordial & focused on him, not about the breakup.
also, during our relationship he never once posted me on instagram or unfollowed random bumble hookups. however he did unfriend the girl friend he was talking to in the beginning.
after the breakup he began posting on his stories, so i unfollowed him to save myself that hurt. the next day i notice he unfollowed me as well. i had posted something while out at dinner with gf & noticed that he viewed it while not following me, so i turned my account private.
today i saw that he re-followed that girl that he was talking to at the same time as me.
i just feel so hurt, he always plays this game & im done. i wanted this to be mature & i learned from my past mistakes of hurting him back. i wanted to handle it this time with a lot of grace, to prove to myself that im not a malicious person & that i want to grow & be better.
i know its a cycle that he’s continuing to play. i know that i need to remain graceful & focus on me, because i can only control my reaction, but how do i deal with this? i love him, but can’t keep dealing with the hurt. how do i get out of a toxic cycle?

Archana stepped off from the bus, pulling the shawl even more tightly against herself, taking care to wrap the woollen garment around her ears to protect against the bustling wind. Even with her full saree, socks, a cardigan and the shawl, she had been shivering in the rickety bus, with the broken glasses and wooden window shutters letting more of the cold air in than keeping it out.
Kunidanga was not the most crowded village in the district to begin with, and now at the end of December, with the temperatures hovering in the single digits, the roads wore a deserted look in the fading light of the dusk. Situated on the banks of the Torsa river in North Bengal, it was a tiny little hamlet which was barely a speck on the map. Archana was the only one who got off the bus, which left immediately for the final stop at Dinhata - nearly ten miles due south near the border with Bangladesh.
The bus stop, with its tin roof having long lost its shine, the mandatory stray dog lying in a corner in a ball of old newspapers, the walls completely covered in graffiti and posters of everything from the latest theatrical releases in the one movie theatre of the district in CoochBehar, the latest political agenda for the upcoming elections, ones extolling the virtue of the famous palmist Sri Abhaynanda while others that extolled the brilliance of D K Lodh - the infamous ‘sex doctor’.
Even with the musky odour of too many sweat stained bodies, months of public urination and defecation which hadn’t been washed away since the last rains, Archana sat down on the stone bench - just to balance herself for a moment.
She slowly patted her belly, calming the little one inside.
It was just the first trimester, actually the very beginning of it. Today was her first visit to the doctor in the district hospital. Archana had been experiencing the tell-tale symptoms of pregnancy for the past few days and Nakul was absolutely, joyously certain, that they were going to be parents! They had gone to the doctor together in the first bus from Kunidanga, starting at the break of dawn. Nakul had fidgeted the whole way there, nervous excitement bubbling through at every second while Archana simply tried to control her nausea - made worse by the rolling motion of the rickety old bus on the untarred roads. Waiting for the first consultation with the doctor, going for the blood tests, then another long wait for the reports and then the final confirmation from the doctor had taken them the whole day.
A quick meal at the hospital canteen, they had to rush to catch the last bus departing for Kunidanga. Nakul had gotten down from the bus at the last stop, he needed to visit the government depot there to collect some documents for his job as Kunidanga’s public works superintendent.
Their small government issued bungalow was not too far from the bus stop and Archana was confident that it was a distance she could cover well enough on her own - having taken the same short route countless times in the past. She stood up, clutching her small purse with some spare change and the regulation IDs, a bit tired, but with the additional spring in the step which happiness sometimes brings you!
Archana had only gone a few steps when she stopped, her senses overwhelmed by the unique smell of burning incense, fresh flowers and freshly cut fruit and milk - that typical combination which filled the air around all hindu temples - a smell so common and deeply ingrained among the god fearing Bengalis.
A few more steps along the dusty corporation road, and the source of the smell became clear to Archana. A sadhu - a kapalika to be more precise from the way he was dressed - had set up a small tenement on the empty plot of land just off the road, hardly a hundred feet from the bus stand.
A large man, well toned but not really muscular, the skin tanned with constant exposure to the elements, a thick beard and wrapped in the regulation red dhoti and uttariya sat in prayer.
It was a deep plot of land, opening up into the forested shrubbery at the back, butted on one side by the road and the bus stand, the other end a good two-three hundred feet away - completely empty except for a few shrubs and bushes, till Kanai’s small stationary shop.
In the middle of this huge plot of land, there stood an old Ashwathama tree, perennial, huge, imposing! The sadhu had created a small clearing at the base of this tree, burning away the shrub and the grass, the soil blackened and charred by the fire. He had planted his ornamental trident - the trishul - on the ground, the tips reddened with what seemed by red chandan powder. A small cloth tote bag hung from one of the low hanging branches - evidently containing all his worldly possessions.
The sadhu sat with his back to the tree, his eyes closed in prayer. Even in the dim light of the dusk, he seemed to have extremely sharp features, even though his face was gaunt and he had the emancipated look of someone who seldom has a proper meal. However, there was a sense of strength in him, an unexplainable aura of dark power, which however inspired more fear than fealty.
The normally god-fearing Archana instinctively folded her hands, palms touching, with that well known gesture of respect - in this case - somehow tinged with fear.
She stood rooted to the spot, trying to decide in her mind whether to approach this godman or not. On one hand, with the new pregnancy, she instinctively wanted the blessings and comfort from divine sources - and this one seemed to have quite literally fallen on her lap; on the other hand, there was a small tug of fear, a deep unnatural cold grasp of terror from deep within her which warned her to turn away from this man - and never catch his attention - ever.
Archana was brought out of her indecision by a sudden deepthroated fierce growling. A brown stray - so common on the streets of India, had entered the open land from the bush in the back. Perhaps this is where it slept during the night, finding a comfortable resting spot amidst the shrubbery and hedges. Having found an intruder who had taken over what the dog must have considered to be its own territory, he had reacted the only way he knew how - baring its canines and letting out a low fiery growl to warn the human away.
Archana was shocked by what happened next. She was about to shout out a warning to the meditating godman, when the man opened his eyes and with a cruel and brutal swiftness picked up his trishul from where he had fixed it to the ground and threw it at the crouching canine nearly fifty feet away. It happened so quickly that the poor creature barely had a moment to react, its growl dying away as the trident easily found its mark - cracking his skull open and breaking its jaw. The sadhu approached the fatally injured animal, picking up his formidable weapon once again, ostensibly to finish the job.
Archana didn’t wait around to witness the horrific aftermath. Shocked to her very core by the swift brutality and instinctive boorish behaviour of the sadhu, she gave credence to the tightly coiled fear in her stomach and moved as quickly as she could, past Kanai’s small stationary shop and beyond the bend in the road which lead to the barb wire compound of the government superintendent - Nakul’s official workspace as well as the small living quarters in the back.
She reached the sanctuary of her house, securely fastening the door behind her, breathless not only due to the sudden enforced exercise, but more so because of the sudden brutality which she had just witnessed.
Suddenly exhausted and drained, Archana went into the tiny bedroom, most of the space taken up by the large king-size wooden bed. A wedding gift from her grandparents, the huge bed covered almost three quarters of the room, leaving just enough space to fit in the old fashioned steel almirah and a mirror fixed on a hook on the wall to serve as a makeshift dresser.
Archana lay down on the bed, nauseated and deeply troubled by the sudden violence she had witnessed. She could still hear the crunching noise when the heavy iron trident hit the leaping canine, its yelp of pain. She grabbed the thick woollen blanket from the top of the almirah, wrapped it around herself, and curled up on the bed. Suddenly wracked by deep sobs, Archana wept. Wept in sympathy for the poor stray dog which was just doing what stray canines are supposed to do. Wept perhaps due to the sudden change in hormones in her body. Wept due to exhaustion and all the changes happening and about to happen. But mostly Archana wept in fear. Fear of the Sadhu who had suddenly appeared at the edge of the village, perhaps promising piety and salvation, but also promising a deep, dark violence.
X
Life moved at a breakneck pace for Archana and Nakul. Busy with Nakul’s work as the government administrator of public works, Archana’s work at the nearby primary school as a clerical staff and of course, getting ready to welcome the new addition to their family. Soon, the horrifying encounter with the Sadhu was an almost forgotten memory in Archana’s mind.
The first time they had to go back to the district hospital for a check up, Archana was worried. She hadn’t shared the incident of her first meeting with the Kapalik with Nakul. She didn’t see the point of unnecessarily worrying him and on top of that she wanted to push the memory of that incident as far away from her mind as she could.
However when they walked down the road to the bus stop early in the morning to visit the hospital, Archana was relieved to see that the godmans encampment was empty. The small camp had grown, it had a look of permanence about it now. A makeshift wooden fence created a border around the clearing around the tree. A small but sturdy wooden shed with a thatched roof had been built, a place for the worshipper to shelter in during the cold nights of the north. The large tree at the centre of it all bore various vermillion marks of sindur and sandalwood - the common symbols of hindu worship. However the man himself was nowhere to be seen.
By some strange twist of fate, Archana never ran into the man on her many visits to the clinic, passing by his ever expanding house of worship. There were obvious signs of his presence, and Nakul mentioned having seen him nearly every day, but luckily through some mystical working, Archana never had to face the strange sadhu who had taken up residence in their village.
She heard about him quite often. The young girl who came in twice a day to help with the household chores, the old bearded vegetable seller who came tooting on his van each morning, her few friends and the infrequent neighbour who dropped by, all had news about Kripali Baba.
He was known to be extremely pious, a follower of the goddess Kaali, he was known to keep the most difficult penances for himself as he tried to get closer to his venerated deity.
He was powerful too, quite capable of curing even the most incurable diseases, helping treat cancerous growth in an old coolie, treating the deadly lung infection in another. He was also known to be particularly partial to helping mothers - whom he considered to be an embodiment of his revered deity - Maa Kaali.
He was known to sit on long fasts right before every new moon, on which night he would disappear from his makeshift ashram and be away for days at a time.
Archana listened to all these tales with only half a mind, as she was completely occupied with the process of becoming a mother.
With every passing week, the small foetus growing inside of her grew more into a human and neither Archana nor Nakul could wait to get their newborn out in the world. They spent long hours planning for the baby’s name - Rabi if it was a boy and Nisha for a girl.
Their little island of happiness got a new inhabitant soon enough, when a handsome little boy, healthy and hale, was born to them at the turn of autumn. Rabi had arrived.
A precocious child, he was truly the Sun of his parents’ lives - the angel around whom Archana and Nakul spent doting around forever. Born during the auspicious Durga Puja, Rabi got the first glimpse of the majestic goddess Durga when he was barely a day old, the ecstatic parents taking him to the Durga Temple in the village to get him blessed and anointed.
The first few days of the young Rabi’s life were filled with joy, with the joyous grandparents, various aunts and uncles all coming to visit the newborn and celebrating the auspicious blessings of Maa Durga quickly followed by the Bengali Laxmi Puja - the celebration of the goddess of wealth and good fortune!
However, after a few days, the relatives all left, leaving the newborn and the new parents to their own schedule. Nakul had to rejoin his office, having used up his vacation days, and right the next week, was asked to go to the district office for some new instructions. Even though Kaali Puja was the next day, Nakul had to make the early morning journey leaving the sleeping Rabi and anxious Archana behind.
Promising her that he would come back right after the urgent meeting called by the new superintendent, Nakul left for the bus stop. Even though winter was still a few months away, the days were shorter and the morning Sun wasn’t fully up, the road lit by the reddish glow of dawn filtering through the mist which was still slowly receding.
As he passed by the ever expanding adobe of Kripali Baba, as he had done a hundred times over the past year, he saw the sadhu sitting in the traditional lotus pose - deep in meditation.
Nakul brought his hands together clasping them briefly against his forehead in the traditional show of respect, before hurrying on his way to catch the bus from Dinhata.
Archana and Rabi had a pleasant morning, the mother son duo enjoying the sunshine in the small garden which they had just outside their cottage. Rabi lay on his back on the small plastic crib - a gift from an indulgent uncle, while Archana sat on a blanket next to him, singing him lullabies, laughing at the various expressions the newborn unwittingly made.
After giving him a massage with the baby oil, Archana gave him a quick bath in lukewarm water before feeding him and putting him down for a nap in their bedroom. She sat for a moment staring at her sleeping son, her heart full of joy and satisfaction.
However she had to get moving soon, the time the baby slept being the only window when she could get any of the household chores done. Even though the girl who helped out with the household chores took care of the more manual work, Archana still had to cook for herself and Nakul. She also washed all of baby Rabi’s clothes and knickknacks on her own, unable to trust anyone else with her baby’s things.
Finishing all the household chores took a while - Archana always had an ear cocked for the slightest stirring sound. Rabi was a light sleeper and would cry his eyes out if he woke up and didn’t find his mother next to him.
Finally done with all the chores, taking a quick min long bath, and scarfing down her lunch, Archana went to bed, lying down exhausted next to her baby.
Rain in the autumn months in Kunidanga isn’t unheard of, but it isn’t a common occurrence either. Thundershowers are definitely a more uncommon sight.
Archana woke up disoriented and scared at the clap of thunder which had crashed somewhere close by.
She hadn’t realised when she had dozed off, tired from the constant crushing routine which she had as a new mother. Now, awake, she was scared at the dark cloudy sky outside, the gusting wind, the clapping thunder.
She suddenly turned - where was Rabi? The small infant was nowhere on the bed! Archana let out a wail of despair, probably her precious baby had rolled over and fallen from the bed. But then why was he silent? Why was he not crying? Was he hurt?
She scrambled off the bed, searching for Rabi, but he wasn’t there.
He was hardly old enough to turn on his belly, so it wasn’t likely that he had crawled out of the room.
Desperately, with an anguished cry, Archana searched all around the tiny house, darkened by the storm approaching, with no power. The only source of light was the now near constant flashes of lightning.
The house was empty.
There was no Rabi.
Now completely panic stricken, Archana ran outside, ignoring the large drops of icy rain drenching her, the uneven unpaved road striking her bare feet.
The road was empty, no one had ventured out in this weather. The wind and the rain made it really hard to see anything.
Not knowing which way to go Archana ran towards the bus stop, for no good reason other than knowing that’s the direction Nakul would come back from.
She passed by Kripali Baba but he was nowhere to be seen. The rain was pouring down now and there were small puddles forming on the sodden ground around the thatched hut which Kripal Baba had built for himself.
Somehow drawn in by some irresistible fear and a deep sense of foreboding, Archana turned off the road and into the venerated plot, taking trepidation filled steps towards the drenched hut. The makeshift abode didn’t have a door, just a heavy rug hung from a string like a curtain.
Archana flung the curtain aside and stepped inside - it was empty. No sign of Kripali Baba. No sign of Rabi.
There was a rolled up mattress on one corner of the tiny space, a few change of clothes on a wooden pallet, acting as a cupboard, and a few odds and ends lying here and there.
Archana didn’t know what she was expecting but she ran back out, somehow relieved to have not found her son there in the sadhu’s hut but also more scared wondering where he might be.
Much later that evening Nakul came back to find a comatose Archana wailing while a few neighbouring women tried to console her. Shocked and desolate, Nakul rushed into the house, convinced that their little boy was hiding somewhere. He turned the entire cottage upside down but alas there was no sign of the missing child.
Minutes stretched to hours, hours into days. The hapless parents remained comatose, completely clueless about what might have happened to their child. Neighbours, relatives, well wishers all had some sort of advice or the other, but none which did anything to alleviate the pain and suffering the distraught couple was going through.
Even though Nakul was fraught with an unbearable sense of loss, Archana was comatose wracked by an overwhelming sense of guilt which sat like a suffocating weight on her chest. She had been castigating herself for falling asleep and not even realising that her baby wasn’t next to her anymore.
When she heard someone saying to go to Kaali temple near Salmara, the last village on the banks of the Torsa river before it entered Bangladesh, she made up her mind to go. She had heard that the deity in that temple was particularly powerful and particularly keen to the plight of mothers - apparently the temple had been built and consecrated by a mother in memory of her child who had drowned in the river many years ago.
Nakul didn’t object. Even though he had given up hope and accepted it in his mind that their Rabi was lost, he didn’t want to dissuade Archana. They started off that very afternoon, taking a rickety old van from a kind neighbour, taking the long winding muddy roads along the bank of the river.
The Kaali Temple was old and bore a deserted look. It didn’t live up to its reputation of hosting a powerful deity who never let mothers return empty handed. There was no rush of devotees, no sound of clanging bells, no smell of incense or cut fruits - all the common sensitivities which one found afflicted near a temple.
Archana and Nakul hadn’t given any thought of bringing any offerings, they did not come here for any elaborate ritual, just to pray to a powerful deity to help them find their child.
As they walked towards the temple, they were surprised to see a lone figure sitting on the entrance steps, smoking a beedi.
Kripali Baba seemed to be equally surprised to see the couple, though he didn’t really seem to acknowledge their presence. If he had a flicker of recognition for them, he hid it well; neither did he raise an eyebrow at the couple’s dishevelled, unkempt appearance.
It was getting dark, seemingly the beginnings of another storm. Nakul hurried Archana inside the temple, they had a long way to go back.
Archana sat in front of the deity, elevated on a black stone. The deity was different from the others of the same goddess which she had ever seen. It seemed to be carved out of the same black rock as the base on which sat, the features carved out of stone. Even though the masonry was excellent, the features of the goddess had harsh edges - harsher than normal perhaps. What was most striking was her eyes. They seemed to be glowing, a strange lifelike quality quite astonishing to see in a stone carved idol.
Archana poured her heart out, dry eyed as there were no more tears left in her, she prayed to the goddess as only a mother can. She promised all that she had and all that she hadn’t, promised her own life and an eternal servitude to the goddess to have her child back.
All she wanted was for her Rabi to be back. Back to his mother’s embrace - where he belonged.
The stone deity had no answer. There was no sign, no crash of thunder as a prompt from the almighty that her deepest entreaties were heard.
Dejected, desolate Archana couldn’t control herself as she felt that the last vestiges of hope which she was nurturing in her heart were now broken. Her Rabi was not going to come back to her.
Nakul held Archana up, tears of a deep inconsolable grief flowing down his own face.
They stepped back out of the temple to dark skies. The wind had picked up and the heavy rain laden cumulonimbus clouds were racing in from the horizon shading the scenery with a dark hue.
Nakul suddenly shrank back, pulling Archana back as well. Kripali Baba lay on the ground, face up, eyes open, not breathing.
Quite dead.
There was a gaping wound in his stomach, a bloody, raw puncture.
Inside out.
As if something inside his stomach had tried to crawl out. Crawl out in a hurry. As if, that something, was being summoned. Summoned by a mother.