I drove home that night like nothing had happened. Little did I know that there was a rouge darkness lurking inside of me waiting to come out months later.
I pleaded with you to stop, I was in pain. You continued, looked me in the eyes and said “no” angrily. I tried to move your hand but wasn’t strong enough. I froze, and let you have your way with me. The pain was excruciating, and those 15 seconds felt like 15 minutes. I have relived that moment in my nightmares, and in my memories. It never goes away, and I’m terrified of that happening to me again some day.
Your arrogant choice to violate me has left me with irreparable scars that I’m going to bear the rest of my life. My life now is confined to those 15 seconds of torment you put me through for your selfish pleasure. I have been imprisoned by your selfish need for control and power for eternity. I will never recover fully, and I’m doomed to forever chase my tail and relive the pain and betrayal I felt that night. I have trouble even accepting it happened some days.
I was in denial until it all came out this winter. My dignity, my sense of self, and my body image have been shattered and I’m left to pick up the broken glass with my bare hands. I look in the mirror at myself in disgust after every shower. I watch my back in public because I’m suspicious of everyone around me. I don’t sleep some nights because I’m replaying the events of that night in my head. I wake up sweating from nightmares about being revictimized.
I just want to know why you did it? Was it worth the 15 seconds of pleasure you received from watching me in pain as you had your way?

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

I recently came across a post about an expat who participated in a night wedding. After reading the accounts I began to do research on my own. Not because I believe in any of that stuff. I'm a magician after all. Illusion is my bread and butter. And I can detect trickery better than most. Which in my line of work has its benefits. But old traditions are the best places to pick up new techniques. Old ways that are new to others that delight and even scare people. Because, if I can make them afraid. Make them look away. For even a second. I can pull off some astounding magic.
My gig at the cruise line was coming to an end as we neared the port of Shanghai. And for my last several shows, where I'd normally start to include my greatest tricks in order to leave a lasting impression. I developed a new act that I called "The Sneaky Bride", it involved a mannequin in a wedding dress, a beautiful train, veil, flowers on the ground - the whole nine yards some would say. The trick was that the bride would sneak bites as my assistants who are dressed as servers pass by with their trays.
I begin the trick by placing a mannequin center stage for all to see so that they know it's a dummy. I show them there are no holes, and the entire thing is solid. Then we dress it up and set the stage for a wedding. And with a bit of lighting, another assistant switches places with the mannequin and is being fed under the veil. We later changed it to more slight of hand techniques as the assistant complained she wasn't able to chew fast enough as the items of course have to get larger and larger for comedic effect as the guests were wowed by the disappearing act as the fake wedding progressed.
At the end we even invited the unmarried men up to the stage and then threw out a fake bouquet, and watched them clamber over each other in good fun to catch it. The act was an instant hit and had the crowd roaring every night. Which was why I decided to take a firsthand look at the original, and see if there were any other staging techniques I could learn from this old tradition.
With some help from Bing and its ChatGPT features I was able to get a relatively good idea of where it was practiced. So I booked the next flight out to begin my quest for a real night wedding.
Upon arrival at my hotel, I asked the concierge for information about the local practice.
"Yes. I know of this one. We practice it often for children who were taken too early."
"But they are all scams?"
The concierge smiled, "In most cases the pouches mean no harm, and they're simply for families who want to provide peace for themselves and to complete a lasting tradition. Sometimes the dowries are quite lucrative as well, and it is the families who are scammed by those who go and collect these ghost wives as concubines. We call it a blue procession for the trail of ghosts the husband leaves behind wherever he goes." He leans in, "But between you and me? They're mostly all scams."
I laughed, and I can't stress this next part enough, tip your concierge! Which I did. "Thank you, and also. Do you know where I could get a good start on finding more information about these ghost dowries? Or even find one of these pouches myself?"
"The temple down this first street to the left, about half a kilometer, would be a good place to start. But finding a pouch is a bit more difficult as they pop up sporadically. However, if traditions are to be believed it is the pouch who chooses the spouse."
I thanked him again and began to make my way through the early morning rush toward the temple. The streets were lined with open markets full of food from local farmers, which were common in the morning in this part of the world. They would disappear before the afternoon and then return again to sell wares at night when it was cooler. It made the city feel as if it were breathing as the locals rose and ebbed outside with day and night.
On my way, I searched the ground and around alleys for loose pouches. But I had no such luck by the time I arrived at the temple. Large red pillars that were thicker than any tree I've personally had the pleasure of meeting held up the high ceiling. Inside, the locals were already starting to disperse as the work hours were amongst us. Which left me nearly alone in this temple at about 8:00 in the morning.
A monk or priest was kneeling on a mat in front of a wooden shrine, throwing pieces of wood in the shape of dumplings on the floor. I waited patiently for him to finish. Taking in the sights and the delicate features of the temple. When he rose I approached him.
"You don't speak English by any chance do you?"
He smiled.
"What about the middle tongue?" I asked in Mandarin.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "Yes. How may I be of assistance?"
"What were you doing just now?"
He held out his hand and showed me two red wooden pieces that were, with closer inspection, in the shape of moons. "Jiaobei," he told me. "We use these to seek divine guidance."
"How does it work?"
The monk shows me the two sides, one was smooth and flat, the other side rounded. "You ask a question and then throw it on the ground. One block flat and one block round, means yes. Both blocks showing round means no. Or depending on the question. Anger from the Gods. Or crying in sadness as it is commonly known. And finally, both blocks showing flat means laughter. Which could mean a number of things." He hands them to me, "You throw it three times to get a better answer."
"I'm guessing if it's the same all three times, the answer is definitive?"
The monk nodded.
"Will I..."
"Ah ah ah, in silence."
I didn't want my first question to be too convoluted or difficult. So I kept it simple and asked if I was a good magician. Then I threw the Jiaobei on the floor. It clattered and rolled on its rounded back, showing two flat sides.
The monk smiled.
"That usually happens the first time anyone tries Jiaobei. But in my experience, it generally means you asked a pure question."
"What happens if I didn't ask a pure question and it came back as angry?"
"The gods will remember it. They will remember you."
"No bad first impression then huh," I whispered under my breath. "Okay. Do I need to throw it two more times or can I ask a different question?"
"You may ask a different question or throw it twice more."
"What is my name?" I threw it on the floor. And to my surprise, as the ends are pointed and difficult to balance, one of the damn things stood tall and erect.
The monk bowed to the pieces. "Truly you have been picked by the gods to be answered. Lijiao or a standing answer like this is uncommonly rare. The gods generally choose to laugh at a nonsensical question. And often get angry if you throw it two more times. And rarely do they ever answer ones asked aloud."
I bent forward, skeptical, though a temple this was, at how the thing worked. In my head I could only think that the switchboard guy was quick on his feet. But looking around I couldn't find any cameras. Though in this day an age, they're made smaller than a fly. So it was difficult to tell. I picked up the pieces, feeling for any sense of magnetism, but there were none.
I asked one last question before I left that day. I asked their gods, would I find the real deal? And I threw it on the ground three times. All three times it came up yes. But for two months I scoured the city, and the country side. And I did chance upon several pouches. Some were obviously scams as I watched each bag carefully before approaching. Especially noticeable are the ones in the city which would be laying on the sidewalk, filled with bills for people passing by. But I observed that if a local went to go pick it up, two or three men from around the corner would come and threaten him to put it back. But if a foreigner picked it up, an old man or woman would come and start calling them son before leading them away.
There were of course others that were genuinely following tradition. I chanced upon several of them and was married several times. But each one was playful almost. And performed by their parents in the day. Leaving me with several small bags of pocket change, a good dinner, as I went on my way.
During one of these fake night weddings I even saw a child playfully munching on a corn cob in the corner under one of the tables as I fed the effigy they constructed of my fake bride. Which was when I think I decided to call it quits. Believing that I'd never find the real deal. Although I did learn a lot as tradition can be translated by me into performance. Which helped me ground 'The Sneaky Bride' act further. All in all, this was time well spent.
My visa was coming to an end and I had mostly been enjoying the sights, the city, and their way of life. When on one the last day, as I was leaving from a faraway eatery that the concierge had recommended, that I saw a red pouch made of silk with a thick yarn around its throat, stuffed full of money. I looked around and didn't see a single person there, nothing except flat farmland and water gullies for miles.
Odd, I thought to myself, as it looked truly abandoned.
For a second I played with the idea of picking it up. Wondering if somehow a relative of the deceased would pop up magically next to me and I could change the world of magic by studying their technique. But I didn't want to spend my few hours chasing ghosts. I wanted to enjoy my time. So I kept walking.
I got back to the city and spent the remainder of my day eating and drinking, meeting new friends at the bar, newfound lads who I invited a hundred times to visit me in Melbourne one day. Who all agreed that if fate ever brought us back together we would drink until the sun rose. So yeah, I was fairly drunk when I got back to my hotel room, and didn't believe what I saw when I opened the door. It was a red pouch sitting on my coffee table.
"Someone's trying to play a trick on me," I mused. "They must have heard me talking at the bar." I circled the table studying the pouch. Any magician worth his smoke, likes a good bag. So there was no doubt to me that this was the same one I saw earlier. Which made me start putting two and two together. "It must be the concierge. He's the one who sent me out that far." I laughed and picked up the bag, even though I knew the rules. I opened it and thumbed through the bills. "It's much more than what I tipped him. Much more." Curious, I wondered what he would have done if I didn't return this to him. It must have been quite a few months worth of wages. I threw the bag up in the air and caught it as if I were juggling before I tossed it on my nightstand. "I'm going to let him sweat for a little bit and pretend I didn't find it tomorrow as I check out," I mused as I went to go take a shower.
I opened the door and felt the words stick to the roof of my mouth as the bag appeared on the counter next to the sink. I shot a glance back to the nightstand and indeed the bag I had just thrown on there was missing.
"This is a good fucking trick. That, or I'm drunker than I thought." I started questioning did I somehow fall asleep beforehand? Or walked into the bathroom and put it there as I mused my little scheme of making the concierge nervous at the lost pouch? Had I somehow in my drunken state done something without realizing it? No. That couldn't be it. I touched my chest to check my heart rate and put my fingers on my face. A bit flushed, but heart rate adequate. I was fine for the most part. Just drunk.
I looked at the pouch on the counter, and peered gingerly into the bathroom as if I've never stepped foot in one, before deciding to grab the bag and close the door. "Okay," I said loudly. "Whoever's doing this. Come on out." Of course no one appeared, not that I expected them to because the credo I lived by is that a good magician never reveals his trick.
"Okay, let's see how good you guys really are," I mused. Going over to my closet and placed the pouch on the shelf. Closing the door. Then I went back to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. I checked the nightstand drawer, mpty. I looked all over, and it was still mty. I breathed a sigh and went over to the closet door, "I guess you're just a bag after all." Except when I looked inside. MT. I couldn't find the bag behind any other nook or cranny. I know, I checked them all. And they were all .
I stumbled backwards and looked around, glancing at the ceiling corners in case someone had crawled up there. And even looked under the bed. But there was no one else here. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "Its got to be the walls I reasoned." And so for the next half hour I scoured the entire room with my hands, pushing, pressing, pulling anywhere and everywhere I could. Using all my years of experience to figure out what was going on. But there was nothing.
I couldn't stay in that room another minute so I rushed outside and nearly stepped on it! The bag! It was right at the foot of my doorstep.
My mind tried to wrap around how that was possible, "It's got to be a dupe. They've got more than one bag. I've been had, that has to be it. And the furniture inside, they have secret compartments. God, they really put a lot of effort into this," I laughed. "I have to know how this trick is done." So I opened the pouch and pulled out the note inside.
The notes generally contained their name, their current would-be age (she was 20 this year, older than most), what time they were born (8:07), a picture if they had one (she did), and how old they when they died (5). If the deceased were a bit older, perhaps a tidbit from their family is included about their personality. But most importantly, it always contained their address.
I looked at my watch, it was late and my flight was in the morning but perhaps I could still make it. So I gathered the rest of my things, my luggage, the mannequin for my act, and other bag of tricks in case I needed to go to the airport right after. "Come on," I yelled out loud to my pranksters. "Let's go see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."
I went down to the lobby and had the front desk call me a cab. I looked around for the concierge but he was nowhere to be found. So I left a note for him. And then left.
The cab drove until the city faded away. We were practically on the other side of the island by the time its tires skipped to a stop. I got out and knocked on the giant half circle doors of the address. I noticed that we were deep in the countryside. There were hardly any lights dotting the night.
I knocked several more times before I heard shuffling behind the door. And then it opened. An old man stood in front of me in his drawers.
"What do you want," he asked angrily. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour. But," I pulled out the pouch. And his eyes widened up.
"Meju-eh. You're back." He looked at me up and down. "What are you supposed to be," he asked but then shook his head. "No, no. Come in. Come in, please."
"I don't have much time," I told him. "I have to leave in the morning."
"Sit, sit." He ushered me to a chair in the courtyard.
I placed the bag on the table next to it, "I have a flight in the morning, so if we're going to do this. We have to do it now."
Instead of fighting me, he nodded, "Yes. I agree. I don't have much time either. And Meju-eh is older than most ghost brides. The bull demon might not let her through his gets if she gets any older. And then she'll be a husbandless spinster for eternity." He ushered around, "We don't have many living relatives either. So it shouldn't be too troublesome to hurry this along." He called into the house and a young woman came out, "This is my granddaughter. Ah-ahn. Meju-eh's older sister. They were close as children."
Ah-ahn was quite beautiful. I almost couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Go and start preparations and rouse anyone you can get a hold of. We must have the wedding tonight. Even if it isn't grand as I would like."
"Will we make it in time," I asked. "It's a lot of work for one person. Perhaps I could help?"
The old man nodded, "That's a good idea. But forgive me, I must retire for now. Or else have no energy for the wedding." He turned to his granddaughter, "Fetch me when the preparations are ready." As he left us alone in the courtyard.
"What can I do," I asked her.
"We're going to need flowers for decoration."
I pulled a rose out from behind her ear, "I happen to have a case of these on hand at all times." I put the flower in her hair.
She smiled, "Thank you."
"What else?"
"Um, we already have tables for family gatherings. There should be enough food in the freezers that we can just heat up. I need to call my aunt to come help. And wake up some of the kids. Also...we kind of need a statue of some sort, as a stand-in for my sister."
"Statue? I think I have just the thing."
Hours went by and it was the dead of the night, but watching all the people bustling around the courtyard, the kids in excited whispers, you'd never guess that all of us should have been sleeping. Soon the tables were set, the food was hot, even the decorations were strung, and I had procured my mannequin from my luggage and a few of the menfolk were putting it together inside the main living room.
Several times I found myself laughing and having a good time with the others, although chasing that hen made me look quite ridiculous, and several times I bumped into Ah-ahn and we would talk and exchange a few words. In the beginning she talked mostly about her sister. How she was troublesome as a child. Always hiding things. I told her about the pouch appearing and disappearing in my hotel. And we both had a good laugh. Eventually we talked about ourselves. I learned she wanted to get away from here, "To see the world," she told me. The more we talked the closer we got. I could feel it. Soon we were bumping into each other just to feel our bodies touch. But before anything else transpired the wedding preparations were complete.
The old man was retrieved from his bedroom and everyone gathered outside in the courtyard, looking into the main living room. There was a wooden shrine in the back of the room and the mannequin had been traditionally dressed. From an old box the grandfather retrieved several personal items that belonged to Meju. And I was then asked to enter the living room.
The grandfather said a few words, and then gave us his blessing. Ah-ahn handed me a bowl of sticky rice ball soup. I had been through this process before and knew what to do. I ate one of the pink balls and then went to go feed my new bride.
Now I've traveled with this mannequin for some time. Seen it at a dozen of my own shows. Slept with it in the room. Knew that it was in fact a dummy for all intents and purposes. However, as I started moving my spoon toward it. I swear I saw it's chest rise as if it were breathing.
I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol ebbing away from earlier or a trick of the light. But even its shoulders looked softer than usual. My hand started shaking as it got closer to her mouth. It was like watching an out of body experience as the spoon inched under her veil. And then the CRUNCH. It scared the fucking shit out of me. I looked around hoping to see some kid in the corner playing a dumb joke. But there were none. And I didn't believe what I was seeing even as the veil started moving as her jaws chewed the sticky material back and forth.
"No way," I shook. "There's just no way." My hand was so close to the veil. "Oh God. Please. I have to know how this is done." I ripped off the veil.
Meju looked very much like her picture. But older. And then older. And older. As if her face was starting to rot away as it contorted. People behind me screamed. The lightbulbs we had strung popped. Kids were running around and the grandfather fell to the floor clutching his heart.
I backed away, the spoon clattering to the ground as I watched the mannequin crick and crack as its arms and legs bent in a tangled mess until it was walking on all fours!
The thing grabbed the bent down to the grandfather and started chewing!
I turned around and saw the other guests were piling out of the courtyard. The tables were upturned and only the dim crescent light of the moon bore down on us. Everyone was screaming trying to get out. I ran and bumped into Ah-ahn. She whirled terrified and then realized it was me. She yelled, "You never! Look at the bride before it's time!"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I thought it was a trick!"
She grabbed her face, her nails leaving streaks behind as she clawed at her skin, "Now she's going to kill every living blood relative. And then you." Ah-ahn laughed manically. "She's going to torture you!"
The people kept pushing around us until we got separated. Her final words still ringing in my ears as I took to the dirt road outside and started running. I ran for nearly a mile before I spotted a cab sitting outside of someone's house. I banged on their door and then begged them to take me to the airport. Throwing at them all the money from the dowry.
When I arrived at the airport I hurried through the TSA. Relieved at the lights and normal looking people. I boarded my flight. Tapping my foot nervously the entire time, staring out the small squarish window as we prepared to take off. The sun was starting to rise as the engine roared. I took one last look at the island as we flew away. Still trying to catch my breath at what I had just caused.
My mind was reeling as I heard two knocking noises, they sounded oddly familiar, and for a second I thought that Meju had finished with her family and had somehow come boarded. But then I realized the noise was coming from my carry-on. I reached inside and pulled out two red shaped crescents that the Monk at the temple had given to me. And I realized that if I ever needed any form of divine guidance this was it.
So right there in the tiny aisle. I asked the gods if I had escaped and threw the Jiaobei.
No.
I asked the gods if I would be safe.
No.
I asked them would Meju kill me.
Both flat.
Both flat.
Both flat.
s

How should I hide the reflections on glass? My betta doesn’t flare but he seems stressed and always sticks to one corner of the tank staring at his reflection. Not sure if it’s a problem but feel like better not let him see the reflection

Simple: My bf and I let 2 friends who are homeless keep stuff at our place. The whole time was awful. Today I was home alone and they broke in to get their stuff bc I wanted to wait til my bf got home. I told them they're not allowed here but they've come back so I had to call 911 6x. We almost got kicked out for violating our lease. The gf tried to guilt me into getting her stuff and idk what to do. AITA for not worrying about how to get her stuff?
The whole story: My bf let a friend and their gf keep stuff here bc they're homeless. I know lugging bags around in the Nevada sun is awful. I abandoned almost all my things when I was on the street. But I got bad vibes from them. I love that my bf has a big heart, but he can't check vibes. They'd fight til we'd kick them out; couldn't sleep here, but always asked. Once the door was unlocked as my bf ran out and the gf knocked. As I walk over she opens the door and says "OMG are you okay? The door was wide open?" Trying to save herself. I had nightmares for days. Once they were "getting busy," my bf asked if they were. They said no, but we still heard stuff so he snuck out and they were, kicked out. This last week strangers started to come to our door for the guy. Forget the stress on us or our relationship. We both have PTSD and I can't sleep or eat anymore. I'm using awful coping mechanisms. We're fighting bc I want them out, but he feels like he promised them. Plus retaliation. Today they went out, I was home. The guy freaked on his gf and my bf who called me to not let them in. I pretended to shower as they banged on the door. I knew something bad was coming so I grabbed my cats and hid. I !attempted! to say hey please chill, let him get here and we'll get your stuff. Mid reply I hear glass shatter and I swear my mouth has never gone so dry so fast in my life. They broke the window, got in and were screaming at me. I hid in my bathroom to call 911. They left in time to escape. The cops came and we told the landlord. She said it was a lease violation we could be kicked out for. But I think she knew we were trying to help and made a mistake so we got 1 more chance. I texted them "We got violated for this. We have to pay for this. So if either of you even come in the gate they get notified because if anyone comes close to our door we get kicked out of the house and the program." Not 30 min later she goes "I need some of my things. Can you hide them for me so I can get them?" I called 911 5x more for them coming back. Each time we'd say leave or I'd call, they'd argue, then run in time to get away.I'm in a full PTSD episode and my bf is in pieces. We have no protection against anyone til the window's fixed. We can't stop staring out the other window. AITA for not worrying about how to get her stuff?

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

Maya's heart was racing as she ran through the dark streets, her eyes darting around for any sign of danger. The entire military and every law enforcement officer in the country would be looking for her right about now and she knew without a single doubt they'd find her. But for now, none of that mattered. She had to find Anika Medhas before it was too late.
Of course it was raining. Maya was used to bad luck. The military had all the high-tech gear, including specialized weaponry, night vision equipment, and helicopters. All she had was a lack of coordination that had nearly gotten her killed before all of this. Now, she was caught in the middle of this mess, with nothing but her wits to keep her alive.
It was a funny thing, luck. Maya's bad luck is what got her in this situation to begin with. Her parents deciding that they didn't want her and putting her into the foster system? Bad luck. Walking into that school building at seven-thirty in the morning? Bad luck. Her subsequent departure from that school building in federal custody? Bad luck. In fact, every bad thing that happened to her seemed like it happened not because of her own faults, but because of her terrible luck.
She didn't ask to be an orphan. She didn't ask to be arrested for a crime she didn't commit. She didn't ask to be sentenced to death. And she certainly didn't ask to be a pawn in a war she barely understood. But, here she was, fleeing the highest security prison in the country to deliver a message to the rebellion. Hopefully, the madness would end, but Maya knew it was too much to ask for it to be in her lifetime.
As the helicopter blades grew louder, she crouched behind a pile of garbage bags, her stomach churning at the stench of rot that surrounded her. The city was a wasteland, a place where poverty and decay had left their mark on every building and every street. She had to move quickly, but the garbage bags were her only cover.
She held her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth, but the smell was overpowering. It was a sickly-sweet odor, like something that had been left to fester in the sun for days. She could feel the maggots crawling over her skin, and she had to fight the urge to scream. Any noise would certainly mean her death, so she kept her mouth shut and let the tears stream silently down her face.
Just as she thought she couldn't bear the stench of the garbage any longer, Maya heard a sudden silence fall over the world around her. She dared to peek out from behind the sludge and saw that the aircraft was gone. For a moment, she felt a sense of relief. But as she listened to the distant wail of sirens, she knew that danger still lurked around every corner. She took a deep breath and prepared to move on, her heart pounding in her chest.
Maya moved through the debris with surprising ease. The rubble and broken concrete around her made it difficult for anyone to follow her movements. She hoped that she’d soon be able to spot the residential districts in the distance, where she'd be able to blend in and disappear. She repeated the address over and over in her mind, committing it to memory. 151 Second Street, Residential District 3. The streets were empty, and the only sounds were the crunching of her boots on the concrete and faint sirens in the distance. She felt a sense of urgency, knowing that every second counted and any moment she could be detained.
Maya's thoughts drifted to the inner zones, the place she had always dreamed of living. The idea of having plenty of food and a cozy home was almost too good to be true. She remembered running away from her group home years ago just to catch a glimpse of them. Those RD’s were reserved for the wealthy and connected, and Maya had neither of those things. She had no money and no one to turn to except her prison buddies, who were more like people she had to sleep next to hope and that they didn’t kill her than friends. The thought of living in the inner zones was like a fantasy, something that could never be possible for someone like her.
Maya couldn't help but wonder how Anika managed to live in RD 3 and have ties to the rebellion while her mother was locked up in the Penitentiary District, facing certain death. But she pushed those thoughts aside. It wasn't her place to question the specifics of Anika's life. All she needed to do was find the girl, pass on the message, and then she could die in peace. That was the deal she had made, and she intended to keep her end of the bargain. She had to keep her thoughts clear, any distraction could get her killed. She was determined to see this through, no matter what.
Maya never thought she'd reach a point where all she wanted was a peaceful death, but that day had finally come. Instead of facing the public execution that had been scheduled for her 18th birthday, she was determined to die on her own terms. She was trying to make the world a better place, or at least that's what she told herself. She knew that what she was doing was dangerous, but it was also important. She hoped that her actions would make a difference, that they would help to bring about change. In the end, that was all that really mattered. She was going to die anyways, why not bring an empire on it’s knees in the process?
Maya couldn't help but wonder how Anika's mother had looked her in the eyes and chosen her to deliver the message to her daughter. Isis had planned this for eight months, under the heaviest scrutiny, and so far, everything was going according to plan. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her that had caught Isis's attention. She wondered what it was that had made her stand out from their cell mates. She knew that she had to focus on the task at hand, but the question lingered in her mind. She couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about what made her so special.
She was the youngest person she’d ever heard of sentenced to death. Maybe that’s why Isis thought she’d be a good fit? Her stature was smaller compared to her adult cohabitants, so maybe Isis thought she’d be able to remain undetected better than anyone else?
Whatever. It didn’t matter, Maya told herself with a scowl. It was just her desperation for paternal affection reminding Maya of the hole in heart. Nothing to dwell over. Their were lives at stake, for crying out loud.
Maya walked through broken glass and heaps of garbage that littered the area. It was no wonder that this place had become home to the worst offenders - traitors, killers, and the like. The place was barely habitable for any kind of civilized being. The stench of the garbage mixed with the muggy scent of the polluted rain, making it even more unpleasant. Maya couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust at the sight and smell of the place.
She walked cautiously through the rubble of the Penitentiary District. The buildings around her were nothing more than piles of debris, and the stench of decay hung heavily in the air. She stepped carefully, her boots crunching on the broken concrete. As she moved further away from the district, the debris thinned out, and she could see the residential districts in the distance. They were like a beacon, a promise of safety and comfort.

This file comes from accounts of the [REDACTED] incident that took place [REDACTED].
The memories of [REDACTED] were successfully acquired for the best possible retelling.
The account:
PROLOGUE
Weather reports are saying a massive blizzard from the northernmost parts of Alaska will begin making its way down the west coast. Most are saying that the storm will hit us next week. People are calling it the storm of the decade, so sorry folks it looks like spring hasn’t sprung just yet.
The reporter continued but I stopped listening as my dad sputtered out: “Why in the heck do they expect me to believe that? This is bull crap I’m telling you complete bull crap. Blizzards don’t happen in April!”
Part of me wanted to stop and explain to him why the newsman was probably right but I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me. You see, in his old age, my dad had become quite well crazy. He didn’t trust anyone or anything and had gotten really into conspiracy theories.
“Dad, you can’t just dismiss facts and science like that,” My sister Gretchen said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. They don’t know what they’re talking about, if you had only seen…” My dad was yelling before I cut him off, “Shut up!”
“Why the heck do you think you can talk to your daughter like that!” I screamed at him.
“What the heck, you’re talking like she wasn’t the one who was trying to tell me what to do!” He yelled again, and at this point, I gave up and left the room.
I found Gretchen. She stood in front of the mirror in the hall I stood next to her and looked into the reflection despite me and Gretchen being 9 years apart and having different moms we almost looked like twins. We both had short straight black hair, dark brown eyes, pale complections, and stood nearly the same height.
“I miss how he used to be,” She said somberly.
“I know me too sis,” I said leaning in and hugging her.
“Let's go,” She said softly.
I nodded and we both left, not bothering to say goodbye. I drove the short 20-minute drive to our house.
When Gretchen was 8 her mom died and my dad remarried a year later and they had me. They bought a small 1 story house in a nice rural neighborhood, then two years later they divorced and my mother got authority over us kids. Me and Gretchen never really moved out, because well the house was big. Despite being one story it was quite spacious and oddly built. It was much longer than it was wide. One long hallway ran the whole interior from the fireplace on one end of the house. To the fireplace on the other end of the house. It had a small kitchen, dining room, and four bedrooms along with a tiny library. In addition, it had a basement. The basement was like a large studio apartment with a kitchen/dining room, 2 bedrooms, and a large hang-out area.
Me and Gretchen walked inside and were immediately greeted by May, Moore, and Herman, our three dogs. May and Moore were both Australian shepherds, and Herman was an absolutely massive Saint Bernard.
Herman jumped up onto me, almost making me topple to the ground.
“Woah, easy boy,” I exclaimed, giving the big dog a pat on the head as I pushed him off.
“Hi sweeties,” I heard our mom say from the kitchen.
I stepped into the kitchen and saw Mom busy making dinner. Our mom was short with long brown hair and bright blue eyes
“Hi Mom,” I greeted, stepping over and giving her a huge hug.
“Where’s Chloe?” I asked quickly.
“And where’s the kids?” Gretchen asked after also hugging Mom.
“Chloe's downstairs playing with the kids,” Mom explained.
We both hurried down the hall and then down the stairs into the lounge. A mess of legos was on the floor and playing in this mess was Gretchen's sons.
Her first son was named Alby. He is 8 and is rather quiet, he usually has his head in a book and the only thing that consistently gets him outside is the dogs, or going fishing with his dad. Like his mom, he has straight black hair. He wears rectangular glasses and has hazel eyes.
The Second is Alan. Alan is 5 and is always wanting to play having a seemingly endless amount of energy. He had dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes and is fairly tall and stocky for his age.
Third and last is Aaron. Aaron is 3, and he doesn’t talk much. He is almost like Alan's shadow following him along and doing the same thing as Alan. He is tiny with blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
Alan and Aaron were seemingly having a war with Lego dinosaurs, Alby seemed to be constructing a car, and sitting on the couch behind them was Chloe.
Chloe is very pretty with light silky blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders, icy blue eyes that seemed almost impossible to look away from, pale skin, and an adorable smile.
The moment me and Gretchen were down those stairs Alan and Aaron had run up and hugged her.
“Mommy mommy!” They both yelled in excitement.
Chloe perked up and gave me a huge smile.
“Hi babe, didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” She exclaimed as she got up and hugged me.
“My dad yelled at Gretchen,” I said simply and we left it at that.
The blizzard people are now calling snowmageddon should hit us tomorrow and will likely cause a complete loss of power, and the government is mandating that by tomorrow no one is allowed to exit or leave town. They did not try to better explain this…
Chloe clicked off the tv. The storm was already making her nervous enough and she wanted to hear nothing more about it.
“Are you sure we have enough firewood?” Chloe asked, looking at me worried.
“We’ve got enough firewood to last three winters, babe,” I exaggerated.
“What about food, do we have enough food?” She asked, my words not getting to her.
“We could use a few more things, but I’m going to…” I was saying before Chloe interrupted: “Let's go now I want to make sure we have everything we need.”
“Ok babe, I’ll go get my jacket,” I said standing up from the couch and walking over to the bedroom.
I grabbed my jacket and shoes and met Chloe upstairs by the front door. She seemed excited that she wasn’t sitting around worrying and I think that’s why she wanted to go so bad.
“Hey Mom, Gretchen, we are going to the store, do you guys need anything?” I asked them both who were sitting in the kitchen.
“We need batteries, Joey.” My mom responded simply.
“Ok, batteries, anything else?”
“Nope,” They both said quickly.
Me and Chloe stepped outside the house and walked over to my jeep and got in. I pulled out of the driveway and looked around, our neighborhood had a very interesting layout. The houses were spaced out but not an extraordinary amount, just more than you’d see in the average neighborhood. Each house was probably 400 feet apart from each other. Our neighborhood also had a lot of trees, so many in fact that it was hard to see your neighbor's house through them. I could vaguely make out the Marley's house to the right, and to the left, I saw the Richardson's house. Both were older couples that had far much more than they needed.
But the more important thing I observed was that it seemed everyone was packing up. Multiple cars were out in their driveways with people hurriedly rushing in and out of the house with things. I pulled up next to the Richardsons' car and rolled down the window.
“Hey Greg, y'all leaving?” I asked, giving him a polite smile.
Greg Richardson looked over from the back of his van: “Yep, some people are saying the mountains are going to slow down the storm and that it could be here for a few days, so we’re leaving to be on the safe side.” He explained.
“I haven’t heard anything about that,” I exclaimed, a little more concerned about the blizzard now.
“Yeah, well y’all be safe,” He said, giving us a smile and a wave.
“You too,” I said, giving him a wave and then continuing our journey toward the store.
“Wow, there’s a lot of people leaving,” Chloe exclaimed with a slight shock and fear in her voice.
I let my eyes wander while trying to keep my eyes on the road. She was right, almost everyone was leaving town.
“Do you think we should leave?” Chloe asked me, eyeing the packed cars.
“No point, even if we wanted to, the storm would probably catch us in traffic because of all the people leaving,” I said and noticed her momentary worries dissipate.
After a couple of minutes, we pulled in front of the store. It was old, still styled like a store in the 80s. It was very busy today and me and Chloe had to park on the street. As we walked toward the store I felt a chill in the air. I could tell Chloe felt it too because she wrapped one arm around me and cuddled next to me as we walked.
We entered the store and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Things were lying on the floor and almost everything was gone. There was a long line in front of the counter where the cashier sat. I knew the cashier, her name was Lacy, she was 17 and the daughter of the owner. Just then the owner Carl appeared from around the corner.
Carl was a very short guy with round glasses, dark brown hair, and a very poor attempt at a comb-over.
“Hey Joey and Chloe,” He greeted a large smile etched on his face.
We both smiled back, “How are you doing Carl?” Chloe asked.
“Doing the best I can, basically everyone who’s staying in town has come to stock up.” He explained, “You two staying in town?” He then asked.
“Yeah, just going to hold out,” I grinned a little excited to spend a few days not having to do anything.
“Alright, well if you need anything just give a holler,” He instructed before hurrying off to do something.
Me and Chloe grabbed baskets and split up to get everything we needed.
We met by the register after and waited in line during which I got a call. I pulled my phone out and saw it was from Dad. I thought about not answering but decided I’d better answer.
Before I could even greet him my dad had started on a rant: “Joey you and everybody need to get out of town right now. You gotta get out of there, they’ll escape from the lab and kill you if you don’t… their creatures they’ll kill you…” He tried to continue but I interrupted him, “I don’t know what you're going on about but I’m done.”
I hung up and Chloe gave me a worried look: “Who was it?”
“My dad, going off on his ramblings again,” I told her simply.
She nodded: “Anything I should know?”
“No he’s just being paranoid,” I explained.
We both stood there for a minute watching more people around the store fill their carts with things. One woman behind us had a shopping cart full of toilet paper. Then I noticed Chloe’s head turn toward the window.
“Hey look, it's started,” She exclaimed looking out the window.
I looked out and saw snow slowly beginning to fall to the ground, and I felt a deep sense of dread as it did.

Part 4
Day 14

**Chloe and Fred stood guard by the doorway to the stairs, their guns trained on it. Multiple screeches could be heard upstairs and slowly carefully they both started going up. SCREECH! One of the hounds appeared** **Fred looked like he was going to argue but he lowered his head and nodded.** **“Wait, where's mom?” I asked the worry heavy in my voice.** **Fred looked down somberly and Gretchen started sobbing.** **“N… no sh… she’s… she can’t be dead.” I stammered out.** **“I’m sorry Joey, if I could’ve done something I would’ve.” He apologized.** **I looked down in despair beginning to fill my very soul. My mom, the person who’d raised me, was gone. She was gone forever. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes and Chloe gave me another tight hug.** **SLAM! The pile of junk against the door rattled and one of the boys screamed. Chloe let out a small yelp and then we all stood there in silence. SLAM! This time it was followed by a cracking sound.** **“They’re going to get in,” Fred growled, “We all need to be quiet.”** **We all sat there for a moment as the things tried, again and again, to break through, but finally, they stopped. Fred turned back to us and his eyes went wide.** **“Y’all need to get patched up real quick.” He said.** **The next few minutes were a stress-filled roller coaster. Chloe sat me down on the couch and ran to the bathroom to get the medical supplies, and she also got the sewing kit. I thought getting my back and leg stitched up while still conscious was painful, but what I felt that day I never want to feel again. I felt the needle go in and out of my face. I felt my face slowly begin to pull back together, and it was all excruciating. While Fred did his work Chloe had to sit there and cover my mouth to hold back my screams. Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes, I could see she was also crying. Finally, after what seemed like an eon he finished the last stitch and was done.** **Then he started with Chloe. I was too weak to sit up, but I held her hand as he quickly stitched up her shoulder. With each stroke of the needle, I saw the pain in her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he finished his work. We were all patched up, but oh I wish that could’ve fixed the sorrow we felt.** **Chloe helped me walk to our bedroom to finally get some shut-eye. My whole body hurt and ached and it all felt broken. She sat me down on the bed and gave me a grim look. She looked tired and worn. Her normally straight hair was a curly mess and little specks of dried blood were about her face.** **“I suppose you need to get changed.” She said, looking at me.** **I looked down at my still blood-soaked clothes and then back at her.** **“I suppose I do,” I said, a little embarrassed that she would have to help me.** **Once we were both settled I finally laid down with Chloe crawling into bed next to me.** **“I’m so happy you’re ok,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.** **She smiled but it quickly faded, “Joey I’m scared.”** **“I know, I’m too, we just have…” I started but she interrupted me.** **“It just… I don’t know what’s going on. It shouldn’t be snowing still. It's almost May.” She said, her eyes tearing up, “I’ve been trying to stay strong, but I just can’t anymore. I'm scared.”** **“Chloe, it’s ok to be scared. I’m terrified.” I told her.** 

“I… I have to be the brave one,” She said.
“No, you don’t, you can just be the wonderful person I love. I don’t care if you’re scared or afraid I love you.” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She started crying, totally sobbing is probably a better word.
“I don’t want to lose you,” She sobbed.
“I’ll be ok, I promise.” I tried to say but she wasn’t hearing me so I just held her tightly while she sobbed.
Finally, after a long while of crying, she pulled away and looked at me.
“Can I tell you what happened?” She asked shyly.
“Yes of course,” I said, knowing that venting always helped.
And so she finally told me what had happened that day in the Garrison’s house. Every little detail. When she finally finished I felt a shiver go down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” Was all I could manage to say.
She didn’t say anything else, she just cuddled up next to me and cried softly into my shoulder. I gently ran my hand through her hair and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Day 15

**We spent the early morning preparing supplies and everything we needed then finally around noon we loaded the jeep.** **“Chloe, I’m going to get the snowplow you stay here and keep everyone safe.” He said quietly.** **“Ok, be careful,” She said, all too happy that the man wasn’t expecting her to come with him.** **Fred slowly made his way upstairs quietly and carefully creeping one step at a time. Each step he took felt like a marathon. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. One step, then another, then another still, and despite his fear he finally made it upstairs.** **It looked just the way he’d seen it the evening before. Thrown around with the creeper’s large body lying near him. The massive amounts of blood around it had frozen making a large icy sheet on the carpet.** **He couldn’t help but look at the body. Its black exoskeleton reminded him of beetles. It was smooth with no color variation. There were small gaps around the joints and the legs had more exposed flesh than the exoskeleton. He looked at the small gap where the back met the thighs. He drove his fingers into the gap and started peeling the section of the exoskeleton off. It peeled nicely until he got to a certain point where it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, he walked away and towards the front door. A frozen trail of Gretchen’s blood was still visible and partially buried in snow was my mom’s body. Fred grimaced at the sight and hurriedly continued onward. The quickest route to the snowplow lot was through a few backyards.** 

The fences were mostly buried and at this point only stood 6 inches or so out of the snow. Stepping over them was easy, and they hardly hindered his path. What did begin to hinder his path was the storm. It howled and screamed at him throwing all the snow and wind it could at him. It reminded him of an angry toddler throwing their food at you. It was odd but that was the best way to put the storm. It was angry, very angry, and he didn’t know why.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Fred stopped and slowly scanned his surroundings to see where the sound had come from but he saw nothing. He wasn’t sure why he looked; he could barely see his hand if he held it out. He guessed it was out of instinct but he wasn’t sure. He stood there listening but whatever had made the sound seemed to have also stopped. He was somewhat confused because that wasn’t really what the creatures sounded like on snow. Nor did it sound like other animals he knew. Suddenly a thought crept into his head, and in a either very dumb or very intelligent move, he spoke.
“Who’s there?” He asked in as loud and as stern of a voice as he could muster.
There was a small pause of silence and right as Fred began to worry he’d made a mistake he heard something on four legs sprint off in the other direction. Must’ve been a deer he thought a little annoyed that he’d thought even for a moment that it was a person. He continued onward with even more caution. He kept the shotgun up constantly now worrying something would sneak up on him. He couldn’t control his now-shaking body despite how much he tried to calm himself.
He stopped walking and started taking deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He said to himself as he did the breathing exercises. After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue. He walked on and on for what seemed like an eon before finally he arrived. He saw the large building ahead of him. It was a large warehouse-type building with multiple massive garage doors on the sides.
He saw a normal-sized door the size of the building and pulled at the handle. Locked! Of course, it was locked. Slam! The first kick shook the door. Slam! The second it started to cave slightly. Slam! Crash! The door toppled onto the ground and Fred walked into the building, gun raised and ready for a fight.
Chloe sat on the couch eyeing the stairs to the first floor. The responsibility to keep everyone safe was now on her, and she was determined to do that. All she could think about was the monsters outside and likely right upstairs. For all, she knew they were right upstairs conspiring to kill them. She didn’t know how right she was.
CRASH! The window in the window well next to her burst open sending shards of glass all around.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked from the other room.
“Babe?” I asked in a worried frenzy.
She pulled herself from the ground in a daze. She felt odd then she felt a wetness begin trickling down her face. She’d been cut up pretty well in a few places on her face. Before she could think of anything else SCREECH!
She looked over and saw a hound crawling in through the now-shattered window. Shoot where’s the gun? She thought scanning the room. Her eyes scanned until they met the semi-automatic. She’d set it on the couch right where the hound was crawling through. She dove for the gun but its large clawed foot slammed onto the gun pinning it under the beast. Darn, it! Slowly she eyed the creature as it pulled itself in. It was just standing there watching her, it seemed very odd and not normal behavior. Then a faint ticking sound came from outside. SCREECH! It charged for her and she pulled her knife. BANG! The blast threw the hound off balance slamming it into the ground. She found herself looking over to see Gretchen wielding the smoking shotgun.
Chloe was about to thank her when the thing got back up changing its course for Gretchen. BANG! The second shot hit the thing square in the face and it screeched in anger and pain. Chloe took the opportunity and jumped atop the thing plunging the knife deep into one of the eye sockets. It screeched again and jumped up, throwing Chloe off with the knife still wedged in its eye. In the meantime, Gretchen reloaded the shotgun BANG! She shot it in the face again, but it only seemed to anger the thing.
“LEGS!” Chloe screamed, pulling herself off the floor.
At the same moment, Gretchen pulled the trigger and two more hounds started their way through the window.
The shot hit the first hound square in one of the back legs, shattering it, and the two hounds were already halfway through the window.
Fred walked into the building relieved to see it was nothing more than dark and empty. He scanned the room he’d entered. It was a small office area. His eyes fell on the small cupboard near the door. Each drawer was small and numbered 1 to 4. He pulled one open and saw keys on a hook. His heart leaped with excitement and he took his eyes and turned around. There was a small door that looked like it would be to the garage so he popped it open. Inside the garage were four large snow plows with big numbers painted on the side of them. He checked to see he had 4 so he ran to the other side of the garage to snowplow 4. Fred climbed up the door and tried to pull it open. Locked. He put the keys in and unlocked the door then hopped in and started the vehicle. It roared to life sounding like he’d woken a large sleeping lion. On the dashboard were a few bobbleheads and a small remote. He grabbed the remote and pressed button 4. Slowly with the sound of breaking ice accompanying it the garage door in front of the plow began to lurch open.
He scanned around the mess of levers and buttons until he found the truck's lights. He switched them on and then slowly put pressure on the gas. The massive plow immediately began to roll forward. He’d have to be slow as even with its powerful lights it was still extremely hard to see. So with much caution, the plow pulled out of the garage pushing the snow out of its way and making its way for the road.
The two hounds hissed and growled as they both pulled themselves fully through the window. Then in a quick move one made for Gretchen while the other charged for Chloe. Gretchen finished putting in the new bullets. BANG! The shot was aimed at its leg but hit it on the side. Chloe looked around and realized they’d kicked the semi-auto onto the floor. She reached for the gun, grabbed it just in time, and turned around. RAT-A-TATATATA!! Its two front legs were instantly shattered, toppling it over, causing the rest of the shots to hit it square in the face. BANG! Gretchen's second shot broke one of its front legs, but the creature unfolded its mantis arms and continued on those. Chloe didn’t even think she saw the hound going for Gretchen and pulled the trigger. RAT-A-TATATATA!! She nailed perfect shots. She hit all six limbs right at the joints causing them to collapse to the ground.
They both looked around at the three broken hounds. All three still growled in pain and tried to get up, but each attempt just seemed to break them more. Chloe walked over to the first one and pulled the knife out of its eye. SCREECH! It continued letting out progressively weaker screeches until as blood poured from its eye finally, it was silent. Silently and efficiently, Chloe opened the mouths of both the others and stabbed upward piercing the brain instantly killing them.
The plow soured through the snow pushing all of it aside leaving mountains of snow on both sides of the road. Suddenly there was a loud metal scraping sound and something big was thrown over and to the side. Fred stopped the plow and looked out the rearview mirror to see a now-destroyed car lying in one of the snow piles. He couldn’t help but be impressed; he didn't think the plow would be so powerful that it could hurl a car like that.
He continued on and then he slowly turned onto the street the house was on. He now drove down the road and noticed as he got close to the house a large creeper standing outside. It stood there menacingly, looking down into the window wells. Worry shot through him and in an instant, he turned the plow toward the creature and rammed straight into it. He pulled forward pinning the creeper between the plow and the brick wall of the house. It lay there pinned screeching its lungs out in pain. Slowly and nervously Fred stepped out of the plow shotgun gripped tightly. SCROAr! Its call becomes much weaker. Its body was a twisted broken mess and its head only barely poked out above the plow. He walked over to the creature looking into its eyes.
Jess. He thought staring into the brown eyes he’d once loved. BANG!!! The bullet tore through its already broken exoskeleton and its head exploded onto the brick wall next to it. Tears rolled down his face and he fell to his knees.
“I love you, honey,” He said to the dead creature. “I’m sorry.”
He hoped in his mind that she was free now, or better yet that she was already dead. Although, those eyes, those eyes, it seemed that until the moment he’d shot her she was still inside there somewhere. He started sobbing, dropping the shotgun and collapsing onto the snow.
The flow of snow finally stopped and Chloe pulled herself off the ground. She looked around to see the entire basement had been partially flooded with snow. She helped me up and Gretchen hurried her kids and the dogs out of the basement. Slowly and patiently she helped me up the stairs and onto the first floor. My eyes landed on the corpse of the creeper; it was covered in icy crystals made of its own blood. I looked out the window and saw the snowplow right next to the house except it was missing a driver. Chloe sat me on the couch and hurried outside.
After Fred collected himself we all packed the jeep and snow plow. Me and Fred got in the plow while the others got in the jeep. Slowly the plow lurched forward and the jeep pulled out of the driveway and followed.

Part 4
Day 14
Chloe and Fred stood guard by the doorway to the stairs, their guns trained on it. Multiple screeches could be heard upstairs and slowly carefully they both started going up. SCREECH! One of the hounds appeared
Fred looked like he was going to argue but he lowered his head and nodded.
“Wait, where's mom?” I asked the worry heavy in my voice.
Fred looked down somberly and Gretchen started sobbing.
“N… no sh… she’s… she can’t be dead.” I stammered out.
“I’m sorry Joey, if I could’ve done something I would’ve.” He apologized.
I looked down in despair beginning to fill my very soul. My mom, the person who’d raised me, was gone. She was gone forever. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes and Chloe gave me another tight hug.
SLAM! The pile of junk against the door rattled and one of the boys screamed. Chloe let out a small yelp and then we all stood there in silence. SLAM! This time it was followed by a cracking sound.
“They’re going to get in,” Fred growled, “We all need to be quiet.”
We all sat there for a moment as the things tried, again and again, to break through, but finally, they stopped. Fred turned back to us and his eyes went wide.
“Y’all need to get patched up real quick.” He said.
The next few minutes were a stress-filled roller coaster. Chloe sat me down on the couch and ran to the bathroom to get the medical supplies, and she also got the sewing kit. I thought getting my back and leg stitched up while still conscious was painful, but what I felt that day I never want to feel again. I felt the needle go in and out of my face. I felt my face slowly begin to pull back together, and it was all excruciating. While Fred did his work Chloe had to sit there and cover my mouth to hold back my screams. Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes, I could see she was also crying. Finally, after what seemed like an eon he finished the last stitch and was done.
Then he started with Chloe. I was too weak to sit up, but I held her hand as he quickly stitched up her shoulder. With each stroke of the needle, I saw the pain in her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he finished his work. We were all patched up, but oh I wish that could’ve fixed the sorrow we felt.
Chloe helped me walk to our bedroom to finally get some shut-eye. My whole body hurt and ached and it all felt broken. She sat me down on the bed and gave me a grim look. She looked tired and worn. Her normally straight hair was a curly mess and little specks of dried blood were about her face.
“I suppose you need to get changed.” She said, looking at me.
I looked down at my still blood-soaked clothes and then back at her.
“I suppose I do,” I said, a little embarrassed that she would have to help me.
Once we were both settled I finally laid down with Chloe crawling into bed next to me.
“I’m so happy you’re ok,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.
She smiled but it quickly faded, “Joey I’m scared.”
“I know, I’m too, we just have…” I started but she interrupted me.
“It just… I don’t know what’s going on. It shouldn’t be snowing still. It's almost May.” She said, her eyes tearing up, “I’ve been trying to stay strong, but I just can’t anymore. I'm scared.”
“Chloe, it’s ok to be scared. I’m terrified.” I told her.
“I… I have to be the brave one,” She said.
“No, you don’t, you can just be the wonderful person I love. I don’t care if you’re scared or afraid I love you.” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She started crying, totally sobbing is probably a better word.
“I don’t want to lose you,” She sobbed.
“I’ll be ok, I promise.” I tried to say but she wasn’t hearing me so I just held her tightly while she sobbed.
Finally, after a long while of crying, she pulled away and looked at me.
“Can I tell you what happened?” She asked shyly.
“Yes of course,” I said, knowing that venting always helped.
And so she finally told me what had happened that day in the Garrison’s house. Every little detail. When she finally finished I felt a shiver go down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” Was all I could manage to say.
She didn’t say anything else, she just cuddled up next to me and cried softly into my shoulder. I gently ran my hand through her hair and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Day 15
We spent the early morning preparing supplies and everything we needed then finally around noon we loaded the jeep.
“Chloe, I’m going to get the snowplow you stay here and keep everyone safe.” He said quietly.
“Ok, be careful,” She said, all too happy that the man wasn’t expecting her to come with him.
Fred slowly made his way upstairs quietly and carefully creeping one step at a time. Each step he took felt like a marathon. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. One step, then another, then another still, and despite his fear he finally made it upstairs.
It looked just the way he’d seen it the evening before. Thrown around with the creeper’s large body lying near him. The massive amounts of blood around it had frozen making a large icy sheet on the carpet.
He couldn’t help but look at the body. Its black exoskeleton reminded him of beetles. It was smooth with no color variation. There were small gaps around the joints and the legs had more exposed flesh than the exoskeleton. He looked at the small gap where the back met the thighs. He drove his fingers into the gap and started peeling the section of the exoskeleton off. It peeled nicely until he got to a certain point where it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, he walked away and towards the front door. A frozen trail of Gretchen’s blood was still visible and partially buried in snow was my mom’s body. Fred grimaced at the sight and hurriedly continued onward. The quickest route to the snowplow lot was through a few backyards.
The fences were mostly buried and at this point only stood 6 inches or so out of the snow. Stepping over them was easy, and they hardly hindered his path. What did begin to hinder his path was the storm. It howled and screamed at him throwing all the snow and wind it could at him. It reminded him of an angry toddler throwing their food at you. It was odd but that was the best way to put the storm. It was angry, very angry, and he didn’t know why.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Fred stopped and slowly scanned his surroundings to see where the sound had come from but he saw nothing. He wasn’t sure why he looked; he could barely see his hand if he held it out. He guessed it was out of instinct but he wasn’t sure. He stood there listening but whatever had made the sound seemed to have also stopped. He was somewhat confused because that wasn’t really what the creatures sounded like on snow. Nor did it sound like other animals he knew. Suddenly a thought crept into his head, and in a either very dumb or very intelligent move, he spoke.
“Who’s there?” He asked in as loud and as stern of a voice as he could muster.
There was a small pause of silence and right as Fred began to worry he’d made a mistake he heard something on four legs sprint off in the other direction. Must’ve been a deer he thought a little annoyed that he’d thought even for a moment that it was a person. He continued onward with even more caution. He kept the shotgun up constantly now worrying something would sneak up on him. He couldn’t control his now-shaking body despite how much he tried to calm himself.
He stopped walking and started taking deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He said to himself as he did the breathing exercises. After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue. He walked on and on for what seemed like an eon before finally he arrived. He saw the large building ahead of him. It was a large warehouse-type building with multiple massive garage doors on the sides.
He saw a normal-sized door the size of the building and pulled at the handle. Locked! Of course, it was locked. Slam! The first kick shook the door. Slam! The second it started to cave slightly. Slam! Crash! The door toppled onto the ground and Fred walked into the building, gun raised and ready for a fight.
Chloe sat on the couch eyeing the stairs to the first floor. The responsibility to keep everyone safe was now on her, and she was determined to do that. All she could think about was the monsters outside and likely right upstairs. For all, she knew they were right upstairs conspiring to kill them. She didn’t know how right she was.
CRASH! The window in the window well next to her burst open sending shards of glass all around.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked from the other room.
“Babe?” I asked in a worried frenzy.
She pulled herself from the ground in a daze. She felt odd then she felt a wetness begin trickling down her face. She’d been cut up pretty well in a few places on her face. Before she could think of anything else SCREECH!
She looked over and saw a hound crawling in through the now-shattered window. Shoot where’s the gun? She thought scanning the room. Her eyes scanned until they met the semi-automatic. She’d set it on the couch right where the hound was crawling through. She dove for the gun but its large clawed foot slammed onto the gun pinning it under the beast. Darn, it! Slowly she eyed the creature as it pulled itself in. It was just standing there watching her, it seemed very odd and not normal behavior. Then a faint ticking sound came from outside. SCREECH! It charged for her and she pulled her knife. BANG! The blast threw the hound off balance slamming it into the ground. She found herself looking over to see Gretchen wielding the smoking shotgun.
Chloe was about to thank her when the thing got back up changing its course for Gretchen. BANG! The second shot hit the thing square in the face and it screeched in anger and pain. Chloe took the opportunity and jumped atop the thing plunging the knife deep into one of the eye sockets. It screeched again and jumped up, throwing Chloe off with the knife still wedged in its eye. In the meantime, Gretchen reloaded the shotgun BANG! She shot it in the face again, but it only seemed to anger the thing.
“LEGS!” Chloe screamed, pulling herself off the floor.
At the same moment, Gretchen pulled the trigger and two more hounds started their way through the window.
The shot hit the first hound square in one of the back legs, shattering it, and the two hounds were already halfway through the window.
Fred walked into the building relieved to see it was nothing more than dark and empty. He scanned the room he’d entered. It was a small office area. His eyes fell on the small cupboard near the door. Each drawer was small and numbered 1 to 4. He pulled one open and saw keys on a hook. His heart leaped with excitement and he took his eyes and turned around. There was a small door that looked like it would be to the garage so he popped it open. Inside the garage were four large snow plows with big numbers painted on the side of them. He checked to see he had 4 so he ran to the other side of the garage to snowplow 4. Fred climbed up the door and tried to pull it open. Locked. He put the keys in and unlocked the door then hopped in and started the vehicle. It roared to life sounding like he’d woken a large sleeping lion. On the dashboard were a few bobbleheads and a small remote. He grabbed the remote and pressed button 4. Slowly with the sound of breaking ice accompanying it the garage door in front of the plow began to lurch open.
He scanned around the mess of levers and buttons until he found the truck's lights. He switched them on and then slowly put pressure on the gas. The massive plow immediately began to roll forward. He’d have to be slow as even with its powerful lights it was still extremely hard to see. So with much caution, the plow pulled out of the garage pushing the snow out of its way and making its way for the road.
The two hounds hissed and growled as they both pulled themselves fully through the window. Then in a quick move one made for Gretchen while the other charged for Chloe. Gretchen finished putting in the new bullets. BANG! The shot was aimed at its leg but hit it on the side. Chloe looked around and realized they’d kicked the semi-auto onto the floor. She reached for the gun, grabbed it just in time, and turned around. RAT-A-TATATATA!! Its two front legs were instantly shattered, toppling it over, causing the rest of the shots to hit it square in the face. BANG! Gretchen's second shot broke one of its front legs, but the creature unfolded its mantis arms and continued on those. Chloe didn’t even think she saw the hound going for Gretchen and pulled the trigger. RAT-A-TATATATA!! She nailed perfect shots. She hit all six limbs right at the joints causing them to collapse to the ground.
They both looked around at the three broken hounds. All three still growled in pain and tried to get up, but each attempt just seemed to break them more. Chloe walked over to the first one and pulled the knife out of its eye. SCREECH! It continued letting out progressively weaker screeches until as blood poured from its eye finally, it was silent. Silently and efficiently, Chloe opened the mouths of both the others and stabbed upward piercing the brain instantly killing them.
The plow soured through the snow pushing all of it aside leaving mountains of snow on both sides of the road. Suddenly there was a loud metal scraping sound and something big was thrown over and to the side. Fred stopped the plow and looked out the rearview mirror to see a now-destroyed car lying in one of the snow piles. He couldn’t help but be impressed; he didn't think the plow would be so powerful that it could hurl a car like that.
He continued on and then he slowly turned onto the street the house was on. He now drove down the road and noticed as he got close to the house a large creeper standing outside. It stood there menacingly, looking down into the window wells. Worry shot through him and in an instant, he turned the plow toward the creature and rammed straight into it. He pulled forward pinning the creeper between the plow and the brick wall of the house. It lay there pinned screeching its lungs out in pain. Slowly and nervously Fred stepped out of the plow shotgun gripped tightly. SCROAr! Its call becomes much weaker. Its body was a twisted broken mess and its head only barely poked out above the plow. He walked over to the creature looking into its eyes.
Jess. He thought staring into the brown eyes he’d once loved. BANG!!! The bullet tore through its already broken exoskeleton and its head exploded onto the brick wall next to it. Tears rolled down his face and he fell to his knees.
“I love you, honey,” He said to the dead creature. “I’m sorry.”
He hoped in his mind that she was free now, or better yet that she was already dead. Although, those eyes, those eyes, it seemed that until the moment he’d shot her she was still inside there somewhere. He started sobbing, dropping the shotgun and collapsing onto the snow.
The flow of snow finally stopped and Chloe pulled herself off the ground. She looked around to see the entire basement had been partially flooded with snow. She helped me up and Gretchen hurried her kids and the dogs out of the basement. Slowly and patiently she helped me up the stairs and onto the first floor. My eyes landed on the corpse of the creeper; it was covered in icy crystals made of its own blood. I looked out the window and saw the snowplow right next to the house except it was missing a driver. Chloe sat me on the couch and hurried outside.
After Fred collected himself we all packed the jeep and snow plow. Me and Fred got in the plow while the others got in the jeep. Slowly the plow lurched forward and the jeep pulled out of the driveway and followed.

I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.

I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.

I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.

I ventured through the realm of the forgotten, a solitary wanderer treading the fringes of a world I could never truly call my own. Each step propelled me deeper into the heart of isolation, where extravagant condos belonging to the wealthy loomed on one side, and the impeccably groomed greens of an exclusive golf course stretched out on the other. Beyond was the sound, a channeled sea of islands and foggy weather. Sandwiched between them, an enigmatic patch of forest concealed its secrets, a barrier between opulence and the untamed.
A bone-chilling fog rolled in, veiling the nearby islands in an eerie cloak of mystery. The islands, silent and enigmatic, whispered their secrets to those who dared listen. But on this night, I had more immediate concerns that demanded my attention.
My footsteps led me towards what I knew was my path.
The forest itself seemed out of place, a remnant of untamed wilderness amidst the refined elegance of the condos and the pristine golf course. It was a forgotten corner of nature, hidden away from prying eyes, its secrets locked within its ancient trees and shadowy depths.
It was within this eerie thicket, nestled amidst the extravagant neighborhood and the tranquil sea adorned with fog-shrouded islands, that I stumbled upon a chilling discovery. Max, my loyal canine companion who had accompanied me on countless escapades, led me to a hidden grave. A heavy air of unease settled around us, and a shiver ran down my spine, for I realized I had inadvertently stepped into a dark and foreboding nightmare. Some nightmares are not cleared away in the morning light.
The forest floor was strewn with golf balls, their presence a strange incongruity against the backdrop of towering trees and decaying foliage. But it was the horror that awaited me that truly shattered any sense of normalcy. As Max began to unearth the enigma hidden beneath the earth, an ominous atmosphere descended upon our surroundings, setting the warming orchestra of my thoughts for a descent into madness.
Max began scratching at the ground, his paws kicking up small clouds of dirt. I watched him with trepidation, unsure of what he had stumbled upon. And then, the truth emerged amidst the chaos of his excavation. The forest floor, already littered with golf balls, revealed an even more unsettling sight—a skeletal hand, its bony fingers clutching a weathered club.
As Max continued to dig, my unease grew, and I could no longer ignore the foreboding sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Suddenly, a chorus of guttural voices pierced through the silence, their chilling tones mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves against the tranquil sea.
We huddled in the dense thicket, our hearts pounding against our ribcages like captive beasts. The air grew thick with fear and the stench of decay emanating from the newly discovered grave, just a few feet away. Max, his hackles raised, stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the abyss of the forest.
The feeling of being hunted made us hide, readied us to run. Somehow they knew that we had found their secret. Perhaps the hunters were as sensitive to fate as I.
The nightmare began with a hail of arrows, raining down from above like deadly specks of darkness. I dodged and weaved, desperately seeking cover from the onslaught. The masked men, their eyes burning with malevolence, closed in on me with flashlights in hand, casting grotesque shadows against the fog-laden trees.
A thrown bottle exploded at my feet, glass shattering and cutting into my flesh. The searing pain only fueled my adrenaline-fueled flight. The hunters pursued, their footsteps thundering behind me, accompanied by their mocking laughter and sadistic jeers.
Then, a gunshot shattered the night, its sound resonating through the forest. The other men shouted in anger, chastising the gunman for his recklessness. Chaos intensified, and I felt a tomahawk cartwheel past my ear, missing me by a hair's breadth.
In the midst of the chaos, my heart ached for Max. He had vanished into the depths of the woods, drawn away by something I couldn't fathom. I wanted to run, to escape the approaching vehicles and the hunters who sought to claim me, but I couldn't abandon my faithful companion.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sound of vehicles grew louder, the hunters drawing closer. I was terrified and heartbroken, my mind torn between saving myself and waiting for Max.
Just as I was about to abandon hope, a shadow emerged from the gloom. It was Max, bounding toward me with a wagging tail and a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes as I called out to him, and he joined me, his presence reinforcing my resolve to flee this nightmarish pursuit.
With renewed determination, Max and I sprinted through the tangled underbrush, the relentless pursuit of the hunters driving us forward. Our hearts beat in sync as we raced against the encroaching darkness.
I followed Max, as he seemed to know the way - having run ahead and found our escape.
The forest seemed to conspire against us, its twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, ready to ensnare us in its malevolent embrace. The undergrowth became a treacherous obstacle course, threatening to trip us up with every step. But Max, ever the loyal companion, guided me through the labyrinth of shadows, his senses honed to navigate this haunting realm.
As we sprinted, our breaths ragged and desperate, the pursuing hunters closed in, their footsteps growing louder and more menacing. The sounds of their jeers and taunts echoed through the trees, a symphony of sadism that chilled me to the core.
Then, as if the forest itself decided to aid our escape, a hidden trail materialized before us. It beckoned, a sliver of hope cutting through the suffocating darkness. With no time to spare, we veered onto the path, our feet pounding against the earth, propelled by a surge of adrenaline.
The trail wound deeper into the heart of the forgotten forest, twisting and turning like a serpent, as if playing a wicked game with our pursuers. Shadows danced around us, their elongated forms whispering malevolent secrets. The air grew colder, biting into my skin, and an otherworldly hush settled over the land, as if the very essence of nature held its breath, aware of the horror unfolding within its domain.
A fog reached up from the cliffs as we ran under the open moonlight. We were exposed to our predators, yet the fog came and made us invisible to them. As we reached the other side of the cliffs and more forest, the seaside abandoned us and the fog retreated naturally.
As we raced along the path, the distant sound of crashing waves began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the haunting calls of nocturnal creatures. Fear and exhaustion threatened to overtake us, but the thought of what awaited us at the hands of the hunters fueled our determination.
The path abruptly opened up into a clearing, bathed in an ethereal glow. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the dense foliage, casting an otherworldly radiance on a weathered stone structure that stood at the clearing's center. It was a forgotten shrine, forgotten by time and those who once paid homage to its mysterious deity.
A surge of both trepidation and desperate hope coursed through me as I realized that this shrine might hold the key to our salvation. With no time to second-guess, we approached the ancient structure, its moss-covered stones seemingly pulsating with an unknown energy.
As I stepped onto the sacred ground, an unsettling stillness fell over the clearing. Max's hackles rose, his gaze fixated on the shrine's mossy entrance. A primal instinct warned us of the ancient forces at play, but we had come too far to turn back.
Summoning all the courage within me, I pushed open the heavy stone door, revealing a chamber shrouded in darkness. A chill wind swept through the entrance, carrying whispers of forgotten incantations and the scent of decay.
With hesitant steps, we ventured into the unknown depths of the shrine, our hearts pounding in our chests. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating us with a weighty anticipation. The air grew dense with an ancient power, the residue of rituals long forgotten.
A dim light flickered at the center of the chamber, drawing us closer like moths to a flame. We stood trembling, almost forgetting our dire escape. Max began a low growl that broke into a frightened whine.
From the depths of the chamber, a haunting wail erupted, resonating with the agony of centuries past. Shadows coalesced into a towering figure, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly fire. It was the wrathful spirit of the forest itself, determined to protect its secrets at any cost.
Max barked, a valiant act of defiance in the face of an unstoppable force. I stood my ground, clutching my pack, and mustered all the courage I had left. In a trembling voice, I spoke words of remorse and reverence, offering appeasement to the vengeful spirit.
"We're drawn here...to see the grave...to escape its makers."
A hush fell over the chamber as the deity listened, its wrath subsiding, if only momentarily. In a voice that echoed through my mind, it issued a warning—a warning to never return to this forsaken realm, to leave the secrets of the forgotten forest buried in the past.
It wasn't in words, it was just a feeling. I knew what it wanted, and so did Max. It had made itself clear. It would spare us only if we abandoned our trespasses.
With a final glance back at the shrine, Max and I fled, propelled by a newfound urgency. The pursuing hunters were nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the very darkness they sought to unleash upon us.
As we emerged from the clutches of the haunted forest, the first rays of morning painted the sky, casting a golden hue upon our weary faces. We had escaped the clutches of the forgotten, forever marked by the consequences of horror that we had personally experienced.

It's me, the guy from your math textbook. I got a bunch of PCIe riser kits from a local parts store that they were getting rid of. Boxes are not in the best shape (some are pretty rough) but I opened them all up to test them and make sure everything was in there. Other than that, they are unused. PCIe 3.0, so you may need to adjust the slot on the BIOS depending on your motherboard. Makes zero difference in gaming on my 3080ti.
Pictures/timestamps: https://imgur.com/a/4IJJLP7 I included two pictures of my build to showcase the riser kit + pcie plate. Make sure your case a full opening where the PCIe covers go. Otherwise you can just snip the metal things off. It’s what I did. No ragrets.

• 15x EZ-DIY Vertical GPU mounting kit. These come with the riser and the mounting bracket. Pretty much everything you'd need to mount your GPU vertically. It will move your cards to the right about 2.5in, so make sure you have space - $25 shipped
  
• 6x EZ-DIY Vertical PCIe bracket plate. These replace the removable little PCIe bracket covers to mount the GPU right on the edge of the case. I'd recommend to use these (mostly cause I'm the one selling them) since that gets rid of the gap if you use just the riser. If your case has a vertical mounting point for a GPU (that's not right up against the glass, thus suffocating the card) then you don't really need it. - $5 + shipping
  

I have 6x sets of both the riser and the plate, so if you are interested on the set I can do $30 with shipping and fees included, or price + shipping as priced up there.
I’ve had several people asked for these but in black. If there is enough interested this post (say 5+ people) I can get these painted black and have them out by Wednesday free of charge. Disclaimer tho: I’ve spray painted other parts before, but I am by now means a professional. So paint will be as-is (I do this as a hobby and take pride on my work, but I will not warranty a free paint job).
I can get these out as they are (white) by tomorrow.

It's me, the guy from your math textbook. I got a bunch of PCIe riser kits from a local parts store that they were getting rid of. Boxes are not in the best shape (some are pretty rough) but I opened them all up to test them and make sure everything was in there. Other than that, they are unused. PCIe 3.0, so you may need to adjust the slot on the BIOS depending on your motherboard. Makes zero difference in gaming on my 3080ti.
Pictures/timestamps: https://imgur.com/a/4IJJLP7 I included two pictures of my build to showcase the riser kit + pcie plate. Make sure your case a full opening where the PCIe covers go. Otherwise you can just snip the metal things off. It’s what I did. No ragrets.

• 15x EZ-DIY Vertical GPU mounting kit. These come with the riser and the mounting bracket. Pretty much everything you'd need to mount your GPU vertically. It will move your cards to the right about 2.5in, so make sure you have space - $25 shipped
  
• 6x EZ-DIY Vertical PCIe bracket plate. These replace the removable little PCIe bracket covers to mount the GPU right on the edge of the case. I'd recommend to use these (mostly cause I'm the one selling them) since that gets rid of the gap if you use just the riser. If your case has a vertical mounting point for a GPU (that's not right up against the glass, thus suffocating the card) then you don't really need it. - $5 + shipping
  

I have 6x sets of both the riser and the plate, so if you are interested on the set I can do $30 with shipping and fees included, or price + shipping as priced up there.
I’ve had several people asked for these but in black. If there is enough interested this post (say 5+ people) I can get these painted black and have them out by Wednesday free of charge. Disclaimer tho: I’ve spray painted other parts before, but I am by now means a professional. So paint will be as-is (I do this as a hobby and take pride on my work, but I will not warranty a free paint job).
I can get these out as they are (white) by tomorrow.
Edit: forgot to remove the power extensions from the title. I do have them, just wasn’t gonna bother listing them. Look at my past post if you want to see the timestamps. They’re Free+shipping for whoever wants them.

KAT Hyperfuse Timestamps
TGR Tomo Timestamps and multiple picture angles
ePBT Aesthetic Kit Timestamps
^{[I know the Hyperfuse and Tomo links are kinda old timestamps, please feel free to let me know if you'd like updated ones and also see my post history. I'm just very lazy]}
 

Item	Condition, Description	Price (shipped, includes G&S)
KAT Hyperfuse (set only)	Excellent Condition: Alphas, Icon Mods, and Novelties. Mounted twice, used for 2 weeks per, and unused since.	$140 shipped CONUS, $125 local (Outer San Francisco)
ePBT Aesthetic multi-kit (whole set only)	BNIB: Base, Katakana Alphas, Alt Mods, Spacebars, White + Green Novelties	$210 shipped CONUS, $190 local (outer SF)
Silver TGR Tomo (Hotswap, PC Plate)	Great Condition, please see notes below	$450 shipped CONUS, $420 local (outer SF)

 
Hey folks, trying to offload some stuff here that is barely or hasn't gotten much use from me. All comes from a non-smoking, no pet household. I am also always adamant in handling my peripherals very cleanly. Local outer San Francisco.
Would prefer to do local transactions so I don't get taxed because of Paypal.
Not looking for trades currently.
Feel free to let me know if you have any questions.
 

TGR Tomo Notes: 

• This Silver Tomo is in excellent condition used for about 3 weeks of light use.
• Hotswap PCB, Polycarbonate Plate
• IMPORTANT: upper case is slightly scratched ONLY from the inside. Scratches are located on some edges of the upper frame where PCB is "dropped" in. Scratches are NOT visible at all from outside when assembled. Scratches came from my dumb carelessness when trying to mount the o-ring. ^{[Please see picture #20 to #22 in Timestamps for in-detail pictures]}
• Other than scratches from inside edges of upper case, near flawless condition everywhere else. Especially the Silver alu outside and brass weight
• In picture #10, there is a very very slight scuff on the bottom right side corner, but it is honestly very hard to see. My phone camera can barely pick even it up, but just for reference.
• Comes with personally tuned TX Stabs already.
• All screws torqued only until my first feel of resistance
• Comes with all accessories included when shipped to me (which includes the o-ring, not currently mounted). The keeb will be wrapped with the included microfiber cloth. I did not have the Kaban carrying case.
• Will be shipped in original slide-out box. I cut out the first two foam-safety bars on the packaging so that the Tomo can fit in there better. See picture #26 for detail.

 

I recently had my bathtub replaced with a jet tub and the company that installed it also replaced my bathroom window. We decided it would be nice to let a bunch of light in by having the window go from the top of the tub to the ceiling.
It's been a few months, and we just recently discovered that taking a shower at night is not very private at all. It seems since there is more light inside the bathroom than outside, it's not really hiding us at all.
Is there anything I can do to the window to change this without blacking out the window? Is there a privacy glass that would have worked in this situation that I wasn't given?

I’m looking for someone to connect with, someone I can chat and get to know, and see if we connect and see what blossoms. What/who I seek is that you’re honest and kind, and I’m not ready for children, if you have any.
About me I’m Native American, Short black hair, and brown eyes with glasses, and I’m somewhat tall, slim-ish I try to stay active, I’d consider myself a stay at home body I don’t mind going out and enjoying ourselves I’d consider myself an ambivert, I’m moderately intelligent, emotionally intelligent as well, and I am christian if that matters. I enjoy long walks, I go for walks to get some tea, I eat out at least once a week and I’m allergic to fish and eggs. My personality is calm and reserved, humble, and humorous, I can be silly sometimes so, I’ll be sure to make you smile and laugh. My attitude is “life is short so, enjoy it”, and I’m compassionate, honest, loyal, unselfish, and respectful. My love language (if it’s a thing) would be all five traits, I’d gladly shower you with affection, spouting poetry at you, and gifting you with quality time ha cuddles for days and all that good shit. Whenever I make myself some tea I’d be sure to make you a cup as well, I’m thoughtful like that.
My interests are: Gaming which is typical for everyone ha, I love reading stuff on Reddit ha relationships and drama are always entertaining, listening to podcasts about nerdy stuff, and watching odd stuff on youtube like creepy stories or unexplained things because I just love the mystery, browsing social media to keep in touch with the world. watching quality movies, I’m a nerd for sci-fi’s, romance, and thrillers, and action adventure movies. I love listening to music like everybody I enjoy music of all kinds K-pop has been tugging on my ear lately, usually while doing something like gaming or cleaning. I like chilling in the moment, and enjoying the scenery. If I am of interest to you feel free to PM or start a chat with me. I appreciate it : ) P.S. Scammers or Users can kindly fuck off, I’m too poor for that shit lol.