Just wanted to share my experience to those on the fence.
My S9 was almost 5 years old. Even with a replaced battery, I found myself charging twice a day usually. It was slow, clunky and buggy, despite a recent factory reset. And the camera felt out of date. Despite this, I tried to hold on as long as possible to avoid buying a new phone, due to being frugal.
Then I came accross a massively good deal on the S23, where I could trade in my wreck of an S9 for an S23 for only 460 EUR (usual price is around 800 EUR). This deal was impossible to resist.
After a weekend with the new phone, I am really blown away with how fast it is and how long the battery lasts. It only consumes around 10% per hour of screen time, whereas my S9 would probably have gone down at least 30% in that time, if not more. The photos are really on another level comparitively and, sadly for me, are coming really close to my EUR 1k+ mirrorless camera set up.
If you are considering upgrading, then don't heistate at all. The difference is huge and the upgrade totally justified.

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

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-Tactile Knife Stealth Rockwall (B) i'm the 2nd owner, first owner said he used it only to cut paper, has one small snail trail on the blade (see pics). i have carried it once and did not cut anything.
Tactile Turn Stealth Pen Fall 2021 Release (B) standard size w/tritium. i am the original owner. i carried it for about 2 weeks. has some wear. both for SV $540.
-JRW curator Flex (A) all LNIB, never carried just displayed. the new Coyote june 2023, yellow, white, silver , and brown. SV $40 ea.
~~Miyoo Mini+ (A). played it for about an hour. screen protector installed. no issues, its just that i dont use it. SV $80~~ SOLD
-Oneplus 8T (B) Mostly used for gaming at the house, it was under t-mobile, but it can be unlocked. Oxygen os 16gb ram 256gb storage. Clean imei, no cracks or scratches or dents. It comes with plastic case, but screen protector has been removed because it started to come off. SV $220
-WD 4TB external hard drive (B) works great, no issues. SV $50.
-Get Set Gear Dual 5 organizer w/key loop [C], used SV $60
ADD-ONS:
~~GondekEDC fidget toy (A) $10~~ SOLD
-Olight i5T plus (B) $25. (used. no box, just flashlight)
-Redeemed Creations EDC work tray green TOPO (B) SV $40 OBO (its not totally flat, thats how it came)
pics and vids: https://imgur.com/a/JZ3doik

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

I have an infotainment system installed but coupler to coupler. 6 months back I bought ddpai with parking surveillance assistance. I took it to the local workshop, he asked for 1k so I installed it myself. I found it interesting, studying fuse box and understanding the whole battery to centra locking whol flow. I pressure wash, removed scratches & painted once, bought cables n jump started twice, bought a charger so I take my battery out n charge it often( i sometimes forget lamps), I top-up battery water, opened bumpers and replaced lights, I bought OBD n scanner.. so I slowly got more into self-care which I feel relaxing.
This camera-hardwire is something I boasted infront of my colleague. He said he also needed a DashCam , he bought one and insisted me to hardwire it. This is months back and everything's been good.
Friday night me and my colleague had few beers, talked about everything n cars. I explained him the recent insurance declinal for total loss by Mahindra, he's said I'm overthinking and asked me to ignore it. But fk man I got a dream that my car caught fire😂 coz I kept thinking about it. Even though it's 2 yrs old, I dint take a chance cause it's valid declinal. Immediate thing when I got up on Saturday morning I removed the hardwire and installed normal 12v charger cable (they gave spare one in box). I drove to my colleague's house straight and uninstalled his cable . He has 2 cars and this one is new so I dint want to take chances. He said it won't happen to everyone, it's very rare and said either I love my car too much or I'm overthinking.
I can live without 24*7 parking assistance (anyway we have CCTV installed in street) but can't live chasing insurance company ass. I've seen some insurance companies making owners life miserable even for small accidents and we have posts here too.

As the youngest of four siblings, I was always on the outskirts of their musical competitions. My three brothers, Matthew, Ethan, and Gabriel, were all talented musicians, each playing a different instrument. Our home was always filled with beautiful melodies, but beneath the harmonious facade, a sinister sibling rivalry lurked.
It all began innocently enough. Victor Brown, our older cousin, came to visit us one summer. He had always been an odd character, with an unnerving glint in his eyes. Despite his peculiarities, my parents welcomed him with open arms, oblivious to the darkness that dwelled within his soul.
Victor, with his uncanny ability to manipulate others, quickly recognized the tension between my brothers. He sensed an opportunity, a chance to exploit their rivalry for his own twisted desires. And I, being the impressionable young sister, became his unwitting accomplice.
Under Victor's guidance, I witnessed a series of sinister events that unfolded like a haunting symphony. He meticulously planned accidents, each one targeting one of my brothers, and executed them with disturbing precision.
The first victim was Matthew. One evening, as he strummed his guitar with passion, a string suddenly snapped and recoiled, slashing across his hand like a razor. Victor, ever the concerned cousin, rushed to his aid, pretending to be shocked by the unforeseen accident. Matthew, blinded by pain, failed to notice the calculating gleam in Victor's eyes.
Next was Ethan, the pianist. Victor knew that Ethan's fingers danced effortlessly across the keys, making him a formidable rival. He tampered with the piano, subtly loosening the strings. As Ethan played a grand crescendo, the strings snapped with a violent force, launching shards of metal towards him. Victor skillfully concealed his joy behind a façade of sympathy.
Gabriel, the violinist, was the final target. Victor, never one to miss a chance, convinced Gabriel to join him for a late-night practice session. As Gabriel played a haunting melody, Victor dimmed the lights, creating an atmosphere of foreboding. Suddenly, the bow in Gabriel's hand shattered, piercing his skin and leaving behind a trail of blood. Victor, playing the role of the concerned cousin, managed to hide his sinister satisfaction yet again.
Throughout these accidents, Victor deftly evaded suspicion. He spun an intricate web of deception, using obsequious dialogue and convincing alibis. He appeared as the helpful cousin, the one who was always there in times of need. Even the authorities were fooled by his clever manipulations, leaving our grieving parents and the rest of the adults in the dark about his malevolent nature.
But I, the silent witness to Victor's true character, knew the horrifying truth. I watched as his cold-hearted plan unfolded, and with every passing day, my fear and guilt grew. I had been Victor's loyal follower, too scared to confront the darkness within me.
As time went on, my siblings, unaware of the sinister orchestrator behind their misfortunes, struggled to recover. They became increasingly suspicious of one another, their once-harmonious bond fraying at the edges. It was only a matter of time before they turned on each other, consumed by their own paranoia.
And then, one fateful night, as Victor and I stood by their side, a revelation occurred. Gabriel, weakened by his injuries, confronted us with a trembling voice. He had pieced together the puzzle, sensing the presence of a malevolent force orchestrating their misfortune.
Victor's mask of innocence slipped for a moment, and I saw the glimmer of malicious satisfaction in his eyes. My heart raced, torn between loyalty to my siblings and the fear of Victor's wrath. Gabriel's accusation hung in the air, and the truth, long concealed, threatened to come crashing down.
In the days that followed, Gabriel's revelation sparked a whirlwind of chaos. My brothers turned to the authorities, desperate for justice, but Victor skillfully twisted his words, casting doubt upon their accusations. He played the innocent victim card, tugging at the heartstrings of our parents and the police.
I, burdened with guilt and paralyzed by fear, became a pawn in Victor's twisted game. The once-strong bond between my brothers shattered under the weight of suspicion, leaving me torn between loyalty and self-preservation. The lines between reality and madness blurred as the web of Victor's deception tightened around us all.
As I pen down this account, hiding in the shadows, I fear for my own safety. Victor, with his twisted mind, remains free, continuing to haunt the lives of those around him. The sweet melodies of our home have been replaced by a cacophony of fear and mistrust.
I hope that someday, justice will prevail, and Victor's true nature will be exposed to the world. Until then, I remain haunted by the horrors I witnessed, forever burdened by the memory of the creepiness that consumed Victor Brown and tore my family apart.

Welcome to Camp Redwood! The feel-good camp for ALL AGES.
We toast marshmallows around the fire, tell spooky ghost stories, and hide in random secret military bunkers under the campgrounds! Because SOMETHING IS HERE WITH US.
Camp Redwood is the PERFECT PLACE for a summer getaway where we start EVERY DAY with a CAMP REDWOOD SMILE. Where our counselors disappear every five minutes, and our campers disembowel us for funsies! Did I forget to mention our littles aren’t actually eight years old, but fully grown adults?
We hope you enjoy your fucking stay!
We are also not responsible for any counselors revealing they are not who they said they are—and not who they appear to be.
...
So. There’s a LOT to tell you and not a lot of time to tell it.
Right now, I suppose you could say we are under lockdown—if that is the word. I want to go over the last several days to get you up to date. That’s all I can do right now. I can hope and pray the thing with Teddy’s voice does not get in here, and once again cry out for help—that I know is not coming. Not from the authorities, at least. But hey, if any of you fancy coming to rescue us, we’re in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. The closest rest-stop is maybe three fucking hours away. So have fun. Has it really almost been a week since I posted? Well, we’re still here!
And surprise, surprise, help is not coming. So, please excuse the salt. I am seventeen years old and I have been abandoned by the adults who were supposed to be looking after us.
Who were supposed to act under protocol if something like this happened. I know they were waiting for it—there are specific fucking guidelines on an emergency evacuation for counselors if this ever happened. But then the little shits took over before we could do anything. I guess I’ll start by letting you know that there are two of us left. (three, if we count Rowan, but I’m not). What I thought was going to be a quiet summer getaway with kids my age has turned into a nightmare.
For one, we have been cornered inside the head counselor’s underground secret bunker. If you want to know why she has a secret military bunker, I guess you should keep reading.
Because shit gets weirder than animal crackers having the power to turn adults into kids, and vice versa. When I made my first post, I thought that was it for us. I thought for sure there must have been a self-destruct somewhere—which meant whoever was running this camp was waiting for something like this. I was sure we were going to die, so after making the post, I have to admit with ya’ll—I just slept. I curled up, tried to ignore Harry and Carmel calling our names through childish laugher, and went to sleep with the thought in my head that I was completely at peace with what I had done with my life.
Sure, I was young. Seventeen years old is too young to be ripped apart by littles who are in fact grown adults. But as I was falling into slumber and allowing myself to fall, with my head resting in my lap, my head turned towards a separate pile of files on the other side of the room—I realized I really wanted to know how this was possible. There was so much I needed to know. Why did eight-year-old Eleanor Summers have a file where here birthday dated back to 1979? Why had supposedly innocent sugary snacks turned our adorable littles into mini psychopaths?
These kids were not kids, somehow. But how? How was that even possible? Could it be that the files were wrong?
1979 was definitely 45.
But Eleanor Summers couldn’t be 45 years old. I knew what 45 looked like. I knew that they thought like. They spent half of their time on Facebook laughing at outdated memes, and the other half… I don’t know, working? They have job’s! They’re happily married with kids, maybe soon grandkids! That was not Eleanor Summers. Because Eleanor Summers was most definitely eight years old. I had played several rounds of teddy-bears picnic, and spent hours reassuring her that Harry's ghost stories were in fact not real, enough times for me to know that this little kid was little—and a kid.
But something was bothering me. More than the secret military bunker, and magic age-regressing animal crackers. When I first signed up to Camp Redwood, one of the tag-lines to gain attraction had been, “Solve mysteries in the woods in the dead of night, with nothing but a flashlight and your fellow campers!” I had no idea I would be solving this thing on my own, trapped inside a bunker.
“What are you doing?” Rowan, who was still looking through Allison’s dinosaur laptop, turned to me with half lidded eyes, when I slowly got to my feet, careful not to make too much noise, and crept over to the pile of separate files which seemed to be crumbling apart from age. He kept his voice low, but it sounded almost like a whine. He could have been scared, but from the way he was sitting, cross-legged with a frowny face, I figured something must have been going on with him. The guy looked tired. More tired than normal.
The bags under his eyes were practically shadowing his face, and were an odd contrast to unusually ashy colored cheeks and slightly dilated eyes. Still though, Rowan refused to look vulnerable. I caught glimpse of Harry’s raybans sitting on his head, pinning back thick dark brown curls from falling in front of sleepy eyes. Maybe he was finally losing his cool and breaking out of the well-constructed façade he had been hiding behind since Teddy disappeared.
We had just narrowly escaped a crowd of psycho littles high on age-regressing sugary snacks who were doing who-the-fuck knows to the other counselors who had been captured, so I didn’t blame him looking like that. I guess he couldn’t look me in the eye, because in Rowan’s mind, he was the reason why this happened. He was the leader, and the camp had fallen to psychopathic little eight year olds who had taken half of the counselors hostage, and the other half—most likely taken apart in the physical sense, after what we had witnessed in Cassie’s cabin. Still though, it wasn’t Rowan’s fault. He could sit there and pull a face all he wanted, it’s not like I was going to blow up at him for getting us stuck down here. He actually saved us.
And trapped us, judging from the footsteps upstairs, Carmel and Harry still bouncing around looking for us.
It was a game in their heads. The little’s thought it was cat and mouse. Harry and Carmel were the oblivious cats prowling, while we were the mice, hoping to fucking GOD we weren’t caught and eaten. Ignoring Rowan, I glimpsed what looked like a box full of DVD’S—all of which were labelled with dates and names. I saw familiar ones, my heart racing into my throat. Phoebe. Eli. Cassandra.
Each DVD had one of the kid’s names scribbled on the front, as well as a date.
I found Eleanor’s right at the back of the box.
Eleanor Summers.
08/05/2021. (PM)
Before I could hesitate and think what I was doing, I slid the DVD into the portable player attached to the MacBook. Rowan, to my surprise, didn’t move. But he did make an acknowledging noise when the screen flickered to what looked like video footage. Peering at the screen, I found myself staring at a small white room. There was no door. Only a wooden desk and a chair, and sitting on it was a middle aged woman with dark blonde curls tied into a strict ponytail. She was wearing what looked like a prison jumpsuit.
Her eyes were eerily glued to the camera, unblinking. Her wrists were cuffed in front of her. Though from the look on her face, she saw the restraints as a game. Her eyes lit up with intrigue and I could practically see the cogs in her mind starting to turn as she struggled with them.
As soon as I saw this woman, I felt all of my nerve endings set alight. I wanted to turn the screen off, or look away. But once I was looking at the screen, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away. “Let’s try this again.” There was a woman offscreen. She sounded young. Too young to be in that kind of authority. I figured there was no way teenagers were being hired as special ops agents, but I guessed I was wrong. She cleared her throat. “It is 4:35 exactly. August 5th 2021. My name is Agent Lemrac,” she stated. “I am asking once again for you to comply with us. As I have said several times, the court are willing to lessen your sentence if you plead guilty with insanity.”
The woman surprised me with a snorting laugh. She seemed to come alive, leaning forward with animated features, her brow reaching her hairline. She was acting like a child, bouncing up and down in the seat, her lips stretching into a wider grin. “What did you just say?”
There was a pause. I could tell the woman was intentionally antagonising the interviewer.
“It means you have been legally declared insane,” the interviewer stumbled over her words slightly. “Mrs Summers, it would be in your best interest to work with us to lessen your current sentence which at the moment is standing at,” the sounds of shuffling paper crackled through the speakers. The interviewer cleared her throat again rustling paper. “Thirty six years. Without parole.”
The woman didn’t speak, only continued to smile—and the interviewer delved further into the sentence. “If you do in fact plead guilty with declared insanity, you will be sentenced to a program which is in the process of supporting and rehabilitating people with your…” she caught herself for a moment. I could tell this interviewer had a biased opinion and it was definitely showing through her interviewing style. I could hear the rapid intakes of her breath as she hurried through what seemed to be a script she was reading from. “Conditions.” She finished. “The Redwood program aims to help people exactly like you.”
Redwood? I thought.
Like… Camp Redwood?
Rowan whistled behind me. I guess I could call that a reaction. The guy was probably still in shock after seeing Café de Teddy splattered all over little Cassie’s cabin floor. I should have known those little bitches weren’t playing Operation for eight hours straight. Turning my attention from Rowan and back to the screen, the woman in the jumpsuit appeared to have changed tactics. Her expression twisted into nonchalance. She leaned back in her chair. “I am not pleading insane because I am not insane.”
“Mrs Summers—”
The woman cut her off. “I am not crazy.” She raised her hands “I am doing what needs to be done.” She leaned forward. “Humanity suffers in the skin. We age and die— and how is that fair? What if we want to see the next millennium? And the next two millennia after that? Why should our bodies dictate our lifespan? Why should we sit here and wait to rot and wither and die when we have the intelligence and mindset to do it? If nobody else is willing to throw ethics aside to take a step forwards in human evolution, I should do it myself.” She folded her arms across her chest, again, like a child. “I did what was to be done.”
“Dr. Summers.” The interviewer’s tone grew stiff. “You and your colleagues conducted illegal and unethical procedures on your family and friends—as well as four other victims.”
The woman inclined her head. “You have a daughter, am I correct? I have a son.”
“A child you killed, Dr Summers.” The interviewer retorted in a hiss which was definitely expressing emotion. She ignored the mention of her daughter, but I could tell it had rattled her to her core. Her voice had cracked. This case was close to her.
That was obvious. Without seeing the interviewer herself, I could sense how uncomfortable she was, shuffling in the chair. Every so often I would hear the sound of her rubbing her hands on her knees and tapping her shoe against the chair leg. She oozed anxiety, not just from her tone of voice, but the way the frame seemed to move with her. “Dr. Summers, you used your son in your research, along with several of his friends. This was not science.” Her voice shook. I heard her sharp inhale. Unprofessional, but very human. Instead of staying stoic and keeping to script, this agent was cracking apart. “It was murder.”
“Agent Lemrac, concentrate on the interview only.” An official voice crackled through what sounded like an intercom on screen.
“Got it.” She spoke through her teeth.
The woman was finding wounds and pressing on them. She was scanning the interviewer for vulnerabilities and preying on every insecurity. She leaned back speaking through a sigh. “Without my son’s sacrifice we wouldn’t have created an answer to death. To growing old and dying, and leaving loved ones behind.” Her voice softened into a murmur, but I didn’t trust it.
After identifying the shattering pieces of this interviewer which were very clear visible in her view, the woman was taking advantage.
“Agent Lemrac, you have a daughter. Am I correct in saying her name is Mari?
“That… that is not relevant.”
“Glioblastoma.” Dr. Summers lips curved into a sickening smile hidden behind mocking sympathy. “A sickness of the brain--which, unfortunately, I cannot fix. If your daughter’s brain was in my hands, I would try. However, not even a brand new body would help her. One which would never age or grow sick. And for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry.” She reached her cuffed hands forwards. “My condolences, Agent Lemrac. Honestly. I have to hand it to you. You are incredibly brave for coming here today and talking to me while abandoning your sick child.” She shook her head.
“Your daughter is dying of an incurable illness, suffering inside fragile skin which will break and fall apart and be unable to keep her standing for much longer. While my son will live on forever. He will see every millennia, a planet which will crumble and build itself back together. And maybe the end of the universe itself.” There was a twitch in her expression and a glitter in her eye I did not recognise. Insanity.
She was fucking insane. I was seeing the pure of it, the depraved and disgusting gleam in eyes empty of remorse and regret. This woman did not care what she had done. I could tell from the look on her face. If she had the chance, she would do this again.
But there was no way they were trying to say her cruelty and complete disregard for her son’s life was due to insanity.
“You are sick, Dr. Summers.” The interviewer said after a moment of gathering herself.
The woman shook her head with a chuckle. “I told you. I am not sick--”
“Sick in the head!” The interviewer’s voice exploded through the speakers in a shriek—a terrified cry she had been trying to hold in. I finally saw her—or at least the back of her. She was a young woman with light blonde hair falling loose on her shoulders. She was trembling. Slamming her hands down on the table, she screamed at the orange jumpsuit woman.
“You are psychologically fucked in the head! You psycho bitch! That is my sister!” She spoke through strangled sobs rattling her whole body. “Mari is my little sister. She is not my child.”
Her breaths were strangled and harboured. I noticed figures looming in the background, but she was continuing. “You killed your own fucking son,” she spat. “You are not legally insane, you are sick!” she shrieked. “You planned and put this together! You sit there and you talk about your son like he’s a… like he’s a tool! You deserve to rot. Do you hear me?” I noticed the orange jumpsuit woman was still smiling, satisfied with the interview’s reaction. Her words were spoken in a vicious poison as she leaned forward and spat directly in orange jumpsuit’s face.
“Agent Lemrac!” Whoever her superiors were—were panicking. “I told you not to turn it off. I knew this was going to happen. Can we stop the demonstration, please? Human emotions present inside an Aceville soldier are too powerful—"
Voices were murmuring in the background, and Agent Lemrac raised her hands. “I want to stop.” She choked out, her hands trembling. She spoke like she still had control over the situation and wasn’t being apprehended. “I want to stop. Do you hear me?” The interviewer was crying, I realized. “Stop the recording! I can’t do this. Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick—”
When the footage ended in a burst of static, I found myself backing away, something slimy creeping its way up my throat.
The woman in the orange jumpsuit who had murdered her son and countless others in what sounded like an attempt at playing god, was Eleanor Summers. I thought back to Teddy’s corpse, and the surgical precision of every organ’s removal. The young interviewer had mentioned colleagues of Eleanor.
Was it possible that Camp Redwood was in fact nothing more than a rehabilitation camp for murderous criminals? There was a loud bang from above, and I was torn from my thoughts.
I turned to Rowan, who had been unusually quiet. And I realized why, when I twisted around to find him three inches from my face, his laboured breath tickling my cheek.
The boy jumped back with a chuckle—like me noticing him was some kind of game, before diving back into the chair. I did notice something odd, as my thoughts spiralled. Rowan couldn’t sit still. Slumped in the leather spinning chair, he fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrests while his feet jumped up and down. In the dim light of the bunker, I glimpsed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and the flesh of his neck. He looked to be… feverish—and now that I was looking at him properly, all of my attention on the boy, I noticed small things which seemed… off about him.
For one, he wasn’t coming up with a plan. Rowan always had a plan. Even if he wasn’t completely sure of it, or was completely winging it. This time though, he was strangely quiet. I found my voice when he stuck out his tongue at me. “What are you looking at?”
“Rowan.” I spoke softly, careful not to garner attention from above us where Harry and Carmel were still clamouring around, playing games. “Are you… feeling okay?” I asked, when he turned back to the laptop, manically biting his fingernails.
“I dunnnooooo, Josie! Am I feeeeeeling okaaaaaayyyyy?” He surprised me with an uncharacteristic laugh.
But I did know it.
I knew it from earlier when he reacted to Allison’s bunker and I had been too freaked out to realize that I was dragging along the enemy with me.
Because the fucking idiot had consumed animal crackers. I had seen him for myself earlier, pouring a pack into his mouth for a snack. Which meant either the ‘kids’ had intentionally dosed him with mind altering sugary snacks, or the more likely, he could not resist those preservatives which was the equivalent of caffeine. It’s not like I could blame him when he harboured the weight of an entire camp, but come on, did he really have to sacrifice his own fucking mind to keep himself awake?
Rowan wasn’t just biting. His nails. He was gnawing. Which he previously thought was a filthy habit. He had yelled at a camper for chewing on her nails a few days earlier.
Now that I was noticing it, I couldn’t… stop noticing it. The boy’s whole demeanour had changed; the way he was sinking into the chair, instead of sitting up straight like usual—- I used to call it having a stick up his ass. The boy started typing on the laptop, ignoring me. But when I watched the pattern of his fingers, he was just typing gibberish. Footsteps pounded above us, Harry and Carmel acting as the kid’s’ brainwashed foot-soldiers. Or, more likely somehow, if the animal crackers had caused the littles, or I guess, the fully grown forty year old criminals, to relapse in age-- then maybe it was possible for the same thing to happen to us. To Rowan.
I could feel myself starting to back away, but there was nowhere to run. I just slammed into a cupboard. My gaze flicked to Rowan again, who was tapping a beat on the laptop tracking pad, swaying back and forth, his eyes elsewhere before his gaze found mine. “Marcoooooo!” Harry shouted from above, giggling with Carmel.
I had to guess their mental age had to be at least 8-10 years old. Which meant I wasn’t just dealing with a camp full of forty-year-old psycho’s, I was also dealing with mentally relapsed counselors acting like toddlers.
Rowan seemed to jolt in the chair, twisting his head around, his eyes suddenly incredibly childlike and playful, and very Un-Rowan, were finding the ceiling, his mouth stretching into a smile, like he was seeing butterflies. His eyes flashed to me, and I caught a twitch in his lip. I knew that look. It was the look on my seven year old sister, who knew mom was mad at me, and wanted to make it even worse.
His cheeks were starting to blossom scarlet from what must have been the overwhelming urge to laugh. Rowan pressed his lips together and held in a breath like a hamster, and the asshole was fucking with me. Waiting for me to beat him to it by accident. Kids were fucking ruthless, but there was something terrifying about an 18 year old with a little kid’s mind.
I lifted my index to my lips, miming for him not to even try, but the boy just mimicked me, bugging out his eyes and pressing his finger to his grinning mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I managed to whisper. The boy was definitely playing his own game, moving in twitching movements, baiting me. When he cupped his mouth, I almost let out a cry, but then he dropped his arms with a giggle, as if to say, “I’m just kidding!”
Slowly, I turned around, grabbed the salt I’d found in Allison’s cupboard, and a flat can of soda. Without making too much movement, I poured a handful of salt into the can. But Rowan seemed to know exactly what I was doing. Because in the time it was taking me to advance towards him with the can of salty soda, one arm shakily ready to grab hold of him, and put him into a headlock, he was cupping his mouth, all logic and everything adult, everything he had been as our leader, igniting in playful eyes, leaving me the last one standing.
“Pollloooooo!”
By the time Rowan had managed to reveal our hiding place in a spluttered laugh, I had hold of the squirming boy, one arm wrapped around his neck, my other forcing the can of soda into his mouth. I had definitely miscalculated his strength. During camp Redwood activities, he was always the last one to come back from the trail, holding his knees and panting. I figured he was unfit. However, I was wrong. Underneath his shirt, the guy had some serious muscles.
It was like attacking a brick wall. However, Rowan was mentally a kid. So, I had my intelligence and logic on my side. When it became obvious I wasn’t going to get anywhere with brute strength, I resorted to tickling him, which made him squirm, squeaking out a laugh. When he opened his mouth to yell at me to stop, I took my chance, thrusting the can into his lips and holding his nose so he swallowed it down.
“No!” His laughter turned into muffled yelling, as he batted his fists at my chest. “No, no, no! Get off, get off!”
His body convulsed as the salt did its job, causing the boy to lurch to his knees and choke up forbidden animal crackers in a gooish sludge which turned my stomach. By the time Rowan seemed half himself and half not, still kneeling, his head pressed against the floor, Harry was poking his head through the door with a goonish grin. “Found you!” He giggled, before forcing the door open, allowing Carmel and Callen, freshly caught and mentally turned into littles, to advance down the stairs with equally terrifying grins. There was something wrong with Harry’s face, and I only realized it when the guy himself was hauling me from the bunker, Carmel dragging a barely responsive Rowan. There was nothing in Harry’s expression, only blind childish excitement at winning the game. When he dragged me out of Allison’s cabin and threw me to the ground, I realized he too had insane strength I had not been expecting. But that thought quickly retracted when I was seeing his face in the light of a crescent moon lighting up the sky an eerie glow. Harry’s cheeks were puffy and swollen, his right eye way bigger than it should have been.
When he spoke, his voice was more of a lisp. This was something far more realistic than magical animal crackers fucking with his brain.
“He needs help!” I managed to choke out when Carmel wrapped jump-rope around my wrists. Next to me, Rowan was refusing to get up, still choking up salty soda, groaning into his hands. Every time Callen tried to restrain him, he hissed out like an animal.
“Do you hear me?!” I struggled violently. “Harry needs—”
BANG.
Is what it felt like. The feeling of something—what felt and sounded like a toy car—colliding with my temples, sent me onto the ground, my head spinning itself off of its axis. I remember lying on my back and frowning at the moon which almost looked like it was getting closer to me, blurring into a white ball of light—before reality sunk in, and it was in fact Carmel’s converse coming down to finish me off. I didn’t stay knocked out for long. But I did dream.
I think you can call it a dream? I was lying in bed at home; my room drowned in the dark. I was cosy, curled up in my blankets, when a clammy hand slammed over my mouth, rousing me from slumber. There were two figures in my room. They didn’t have faces. They just existed as shadows, silhouettes. Before one of them raised something above their head, and… impact.
It was the same impact as the toy car hitting me, snapping me back to that night. It wasn’t a dream. Because I remembered his clammy fingers over my mouth, and his hisses for me to shut up as he dragged me from my room.
My parents stood in front of me with expressions of sympathy. Basked in warm light, my mom and dad looked almost otherworldly. “For the best.” Was what they mouthed when my own phantom screams slammed into me. I asked them why, and they didn’t reply, allowing him to pull me further and further from what I knew, from my life as I knew it. But.. that couldn’t be real. I had memories of getting on the bus to camp Redwood. I could recall the whole journey. So, why… why was my tangled mind saying otherwise?
When I gathered myself, the first thing I realized was I was sitting down. I was outside, cool night air grazing my bare arms. There was something attached to me, jerking violently, And it took me several disorienting blinks to understand that I was tied back to back with Rowan. My head pounded, and something wet and warm dripped down my temple. Great. I could add head injury to the long list of things to worry about.
“Let me go you little fucking witch.”
Rowan was back to himself, though from the muffled hissing and the sound of choking—I had to guess he was being force-fed animal crackers.
“Let me—mpphmmm. little…. fucking… mphmmphhmhppmm!”
“Rowan.” I managed to get out in a croak. Through flickering eyes, I caught glimpse of a familiar figure dancing around us. Shivers rocketed down my spine, and I wrenched at the jump-rope restraints, but they did a surprisingly job of restraining my arms behind my back.
Eleanor was with Rowan, while Eli was knelt in front of me. Looking at him, the boy had definitely aged in the face—and I couldn’t help wondering what exactly he had done as a forty something year old to be sent to this place.
“Josie!” Rowan responded in a wail. “Josie. Wake the FUCK up.”
“Stop swearing.”
Eleanor spoke with the cold tone of her actual age.
“Oh, yeah?” Rowan spluttered. “Fuck you.” The boy’s laugh was still rough from almost vomiting his insides out from too much salt intake. “I’m sorry, you were a fucking boomer all along?!” He wriggled in the restraints, lunging forwards, which sent me backwards.
“Stop swearing, Rowan.” Was all the girl responded with calmly.
“Like I’m going to listen to you!” He sneered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking fuck!” What are you going to do, huh? Bite me with your false teeth?” The sound of saliva hitting skin made me wince. He was pissed. I had no doubt his completely rational anger was going to get us killed. Rowan was also somehow getting mixed up between forty and eighty. Though he was unwillingly snacking on mind bending sugary goodness.
“Fudge, Rowan.” Eleanor spoke in a giggle.
“What?!”
“Say fudge. Not fuck.”
“No.”
His hiss of pain caught me off guard. I don’t know what she was doing to him, but it was hurting him.
“You fudging fudge! I’m going to fudging kill you when I get out of these fudging ropes—“ his manic cursing became a muffled yell.
“Say fudge,” Eleanor hummed, followed by his hiss when the palm of her hand skinned his cheek. “Fuck is a bad word. You even said so yourself and you’re my favourite counselor.”
He heaved out a breath.
“You fudge,” Rowan spat. “When I get out of this, I am going to fudging kill you, you fudging—” His manic ranting morphed, once again, into muffled yelling, after another fistful of animal crackers were forced into his mouth. When I risked twisting around, I could see his rebellion slowly starting to simmer out as he relaxed slightly. I wanted to yell at him to keep a clear head before cold fingers were dipping under my chin and forcing my head around where I found myself face to face with Eli.
“I like you, Josie,” he said, before untying me and pulling me to my feet. Now at the age of nine or ten, he was a lot stronger. When I tried to pull away, the cruel blade of a knife grazed my gut. I caught his grin. “But we don’t need you.” Eli pointed to Rowan.
“We just want them.”
I followed his pointer finger which went from Rowan to Harry and Carmel, who were just standing there like fucking idiots, probably awaiting the next game. Harry’s face was getting redder. It looked like he was suffocating, and yet his grin was growing wider and wider, splitting his lips apart. “Rowan Atlas.” Eleanor said, dragging him to his feet. Something was stapled to his forehead head, which caused him to howl in pain, hissing another strangled line of “Fudge”. but I couldn’t read what it was.
“Camp leader. Intelligent, and problem solving skills.”
“Harry Carlisle.” Eli nodded his head with a smile. “Quick thinker. Strong minded.”
“Carmel Locke.” Cassie spoke behind me. She had her arms folded, a wry smile on her lips. “Smarter than she makes out—- an independent learner, and can work well under pressure.”
Looking at these kids, I felt sick to my stomach. They were planning something—and had the intelligence of renowned scientists, which was what I gathered from the footage on the MacBook. “What?” was all I could hiss out, as Eli prodded the blade of the knife into my back, ushering me to walk. “What are you talking about?”
“Duh.” He spoke in a more tweeny giggle. “Like I said, Miss Josie. You’re my favorite counselor but we don’t need you, so I’m going to use you for parts.” He laughed when a shiver spiderwebbed down my spine. “See! I told you I was going to show you my collection!”
“But… what do you need them for?”
Eli pressed his index finger to his lips with a laugh before forcing me to face forwards. “That’s a secret!”
When I didn’t, or couldn’t move, he shoved me into a stumbling power-walk, and I managed to turn my head quickly, making feverish eye contact with Rowan.
“Rowan.” I said calmly through the gutter in my throat. “Get…. Get help.”
If I was going to die, I needed him to get a hold of himself and somehow alert the outside world what was going on.
“From whom, Josie?!” He wailed back—and as I was dragged away, I could once again sense the childish undertones in his voice.
I had no choice but to obey Eli’s orders. If I didn’t want a knife in my back. He took me to the main lunch cabin, which, when I set foot inside, almost sent me to my knees.
Something lurched inside me, and I was screaming with no voice, staggering backwards, only to be shoved onto my face. In front of me was what had been the lunch hall, fully converted into the beginning of a laboratory.
What had been cafeteria tables were fashioned into makeshift gurney’s and beds, and I was looking at all of the missing counselors. Yuri and Noah had been skinned completely, their faces laid out on a makeshift surgical table. Joey had been ripped open, his heart and brain removed, a glittering metallic substance creeping its way across his forehead. It was then when I remembered Eleanor Summers words.
She wanted to prevent death and preserve the human mind. Looking at what was in front of me, this was the start of it. There was equipment I had never seen before. Lily’s body was empty, carved out completely, tubes forced inside her. When I glimpsed her fingers move and begin to ball into a fist, I saw red. I saw fucking red. The exit was so close and yet Eli, fucking Eli, wielded his knife. I think that is when part of me gave up. My brain just stopped. It short circuited. Seeing my friends murdered and yet somehow being kept alive through playing god, my body slumped to the ground. I was numb. Completely numb.
I’m not sure what would have happened if those bloody saws and instruments which had been used on my friends were used on me too.
Luckily, that did not happen. Before Eli could get his slimy hands on me, he crumpled to the ground in an almost cartoon-like fashion, and standing over me was Harry. Who was looking better. When he grasped hold of me and helped me up, I only had one word. “Out.” And he was nodding, his eyes glistening as he drunk in our friends’ fate.
“How?” I managed to sputter out, when we made it out of the cabin, ducking behind a tree. Harry turned to me, motioning for me to shut up. There was a group of now ten to eleven year olds already running around, searching for what I guessed was him.
“I’m allergic to peanut butter,” Harry murmured, his grasp tightening on my wrist as he led me across the camp, the two of us stumbling.
“What, and you just magically healed?”
He didn’t respond to that, which bothered me.
“The bunker is our best shot,” I hissed out. “I think we can get in contact with someone down there.” I paused, unable to stop myself. “What makes you so important?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’m their favorite.”
When we found Allison’s cabin, which was more of a safehouse (an exposed safehouse) I found Rowan sitting on the wooden porch with his legs swinging over the side. “Rowan!” Harry groaned. I found it hard to believe their roles had been switched. Now he was the one yelling at the camp-leader. “I told you to stay inside!”
He ushered the boy inside, before barricading the door with some hefty looking equipment. I could tell from the grin on his face that our so-called leader was once again no longer himself.
I had to bite back a groan. “You’re kidding.” I said, pointing to Rowan, who buried his head in his knees and blew a raspberry. “Does he look and act like our leader right now?!”
“It’s Rowan, Josie.”
“He’s a liability.”
“He’s our friend! Wouldn’t Rowan do the same?”
Yes, he would. But. He would also realize we’re lost causes.
“Gag him with something.” I said. “If he makes any more noise, we’re dumping him.”
“He’s a kid!”
“Just the mind of one.”
I don’t know how animal crackers worked, but his age seemed to be progressively younger. This time he just sat with wide eyes watching us.
Harry almost tore apart the place looking for means of communication, before an old fashioned ringing sound made me jump.
“What was that?” Harry turned to me with his lip curled.
“How am I supposed to know?!” I hissed. “Keep looking!” But when I ducked under the table, my hands crawled under the desk, finding a wire—and attached to that, an ancient looking phone which looked straight out of a 1940’s movie, a bright green rotary phone.
Hesitantly, I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Did you awaken the subjects, Agent Salta?"
The voice on the other end was a woman, an oldish sounding woman with the tinge of a British accent.
“What?” I shot a look at Harry before shaking my head. “No. My name is Josie Greenfield. We’re at Camp Redwood, and we need help.”
The woman paused.
“Where is Agent Salta?” She cleared her throat. “This line is reserved for communication with agents only.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about!" I squeaked out. “My name is Josie, and whatever is happening here, we need help!”
“Josie. Did you awaken the subjects?”
I paused after a moment, shooting Harry a look when he tried to take the phone off of me. “Yes.”
“And… are our agents unavailable?”
“I don’t understand.”
“When a health and safety breach is activated, our agents are awakened to deal with the Project Spearhead subjects if they were to ever go rogue, or become conscious enough to think. Josie, can you tell me what is in front of you? Describe it to me.”
I held my breath. Next to the hidden phone under the desk was what looked like mismatched wires, all of which had been severed. I lowered myself slowly, poking at mess. “Wires. I see… cut up wires.” I whispered. “Does this mean they know about you?”
She hummed. “Ah…That makes sense. The only way to activate our sleeper handlers would be to send out the signal. You appear to have been sabotaged. Unless activated manually, our agents cannot help you. I am sorry. They are your problem now.” The woman paused.
“If I were you, I would hope and pray they have not sabotaged the self-destruct. If you find that, then you may be able to save yourselves and find peace.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your service, Josie Greenfield.”
“Wait.” I managed to get out. “Wait, no! You can’t just… you can’t leave us! We need help!”
I found myself yelling at nothing when the phone went dead. The dull tone of the dead ringtone was clanging in my ears before footsteps from up above. “Fuck this.” Harry picked up a lead pipe. “They’re still little kids, right? I mean, their head must still be partly kids—- so let’s fucking beat their heads in.”
He noticed something, then, starting forwards towards the mess of files I had left earlier. Harry knelt on the ground and picked up Eli’s file, his eyes wide. But he wasn’t staring at the dates confirming the little boy’s age.
Instead, Harry pointed at the bottom of the file. “I don’t want to freak you out, Josie,” he whispered. Initially, I didn’t know what he was trying to show before I glimpsed notes scrawled at the bottom of the file, followed by a signature. “But I’m pretty sure that is my fucking writing.”
Harry was right.
I pulled the paperwork off of him, flicking through each file before turning my eyes to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
A clanging sound from above broke the tension, and whatever Harry was about to reply with was strangled in his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth.
“Guys?”
The voice twisted me up inside, threatening to release a shriek from my mouth I had managed to clamp shut.
Teddy.
“Are you down here?” His voice was strained, and had an odd tone to it. “I can’t… I can’t see you.”
…
Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?! It’s been a blur of a week. We’ve managed to stay down here, surviving off of Allison’s rations. Rowan isn’t getting any better. He seems to have stopped mentally de-ageing at the age of maybe six. Harry has spent the last few days trying to get in contact with anyone, but it’s like they are IGNORING US.
I’ve been looking through everything I can find on Project Spearhead, but nothing points to Harry being involved. So. How is his signature all over the files? How is it possible that two friends I thought I knew several days ago, are now complete strangers?
Teddy keeps coming back.
He’s crying out to us.
I think he’s… in pain.
My god, I can’t stand this anymore. Please. CAMP REDWOOD NEEDS HELP.

Last week I used the official Apple Repair Service and replaced my motherboard and battery. Before the repair, the phone worked quite slowly and jammed even for 5 seconds after taking a picture and exiting the camera apl. A few days after repair, the problem returned. Camera blurs randomly, exiting camera isn’t smooth and photos appear in gallery after a while. I haven’t seen any similar problem here on reddit. My friends with much older iPhones with much more space taken and worse battery conditions don’t have such problems. Reseting a phone didn’t help at all. Any ideas what should I do? I have a warranty only until 9th June.

Images + timestamp
Looking to sell my Leica Q Typ 116. Includes an Artisan & Artist olive strap, Leica charger + power cable, and 2 Leica batteries. Recently replaced the hood as the old one was quite worn and kept falling off.
Camera was purchased off another photographer in Toronto in late December 2022. Hasn't seen a whole lot of use since I mostly shoot film these days and the previous photographer used it primarily as a studio camera for candids.
Asking $2200 USD including shipping and PayPal fees within CONUS and Canada.

Desperate Car Wife: A Journey in the Making (part.7)
My husband's next "victim" .... A golden brown 1997 Chevy K/1500 Extended Cab
I had a feeling he'd buy this truck at some point... A buddy of his owned it and he would always make comments and cash offers whenever he saw the truck. About 3 or 4 years later my hubby finally got his wish! I still remember the night we brought it home... Unfortunately, that same night, during the wee hours, some delinquent teens went around the neighborhood and were keying cars down our street! He parked it on the street since he had planned to wash it first thing.... Hub was up early the next day, so excited to have his new baby; ready to give her a good wash and start marking his "territory" with that good 'ol "JB Treatment".. We walked out and discovered the truck had been keyed all the way from the driver's side door to the rear fender!! I can't describe how super p@##ed off he was without using a list of colorful words, but I'm sure y'all can imagine... I'm just glad I was there to help calm him down; to this very day I truly feel that had he given into his anger, he would've gone off his rocker, and that day would've been much like that famous line from Liam Neeson in Taken!! But after about an hour of watching what looked like a crazy man, pacing back and forth, looking over and over at the nearly 7' long scratch, while cursing up a storm, he managed to calm down "somewhat" and immediately ran down to AutoZone... $150 later, he had what he needed to make it as invisible as possible. It was deep in spots; the entire scratch had passed through the top coat and in some areas it was all the way to the base paint :(
Over the next year, he went over the entire body with a clay bar, compound buffed, then waxed and polished... She was easily a 10 footer for sure! Eventually he found some wheels and bought matching tires.. (He has a thing about mismatched tires LOL) She was lookin' like a pretty nice truck, so shiny and new, nearly flawless on the outside.
Side Note: I remember one night, not too long after he finished all that hard work, we were bbqing at our friend's house; the one who sold us the truck. It was well after midnight when we were finally ready to leave, (hubby was highly intoxicated), I ended up having to pull the truck out first because a huge bush was on the other side where he had backed in too close and couldn't open the passenger side door. Well he was too drunk and way too tall to try to climb over the center console thru the driver's side, so he wanted me to pull the truck out and he'd just hop in. I was like "there are branches sticking out of the bush and I think I might scratch the truck"... I insisted my hubby just pull it out a little and then I'd take over. (if anyone was gonna scratch it, I'd rather it be him!) To give some insight: there was another car parked on the driver's side, giving me very little room to work with... But he refused and said he'd guide me.. Famous. Last. Words!!!! As soon as I started to pull away, I heard scraping sounds!!!! I stopped and was sooo upset because I knew it would happen! I thought for sure he would be so p@##ed at me for scratching it! I had tears, I felt so bad!! He had just finished getting that truck looking new again and the hours of labotime spent doing so... I couldn't stop sobbing, even when he, surprisingly, wasn't mad at all!! He actually blamed himself because he made me move it.. I blame the alcohol for his chill response!!! After repeated "sorry's" and "it's okay's".. we get home and he grabs his container of Mother's compound and starts buffing out the scratch.... Next morning I looked at the spot and to my excitement, the scratch was gone... it didn't go through the top coat!! Couldn't even tell that there was ever even a scratch!!!! \Wipes sweaty forehead* What a relief that was!*
Next came the.......... you got it! The Sound system! \ insert smirky laugh here LOL **
A slimbox would just not do.. he tried, but at this point in his obsession with bass style audio, he wanted more bass. Well for those of you that don't know, more bass means not only bigger subs and bigger boxes for those subs, you also need higher quality tweeters and mids with their own amp system plus crossovers, a powerful amp just for the bass, bigger batteries (yes, that's plural), a bigger alternator, fuses galore, expensive wiring , etc... Not only is that crazy expensive to do, but it also required him to eventually remove the bench seat. I had no clue to all of this till I started going with him more often to the car audio shops. Needless to say, I was not a happy wife when it came to the price tags... I was perfectly happy with decent sound and a small sub, but something so crazy loud wasn't that big of a deal to me, however, our bank account would say otherwise LOL ... it wasn't my daily driver, so I didn't really care other than the costs for everything... he just could never be happy with the sound and continuously changed out the subs, boxes, decks, you name it... he did it more than once over on everything! So that was the first strike to this truck and I... (I know it sounds a bit harsh for a 1st strike, but I wanted a nice family vacation, not bigger and bigger subs... Remember my "limits" motto??)
I liked driving it around town, though the driver's seat was broken in the upright position, so I had to drive with a pillow behind me. (Strike 2!!) It never bothered him because he's so dang tall, and I rarely drove it as it was, so the seat wasn't a priority... Then I took it on the freeway, the steering became very loose. I don't know how to describe how it felt to me, other than it felt like it was severely out of play... My hubby never seemed to have the same issue and always would reassure me that "it's just how the truck drives''... So he hasn't messed around with the steering column at all. Well, I don't trust it or feel safe in it, so I refuse to drive it. I have had to take it on the freeway a couple more times since then and I still hate driving it... it still felt way out of whack for me; taking curvy turns was the worst, I couldn't even keep it centered in my lane! Nerves shot and blood pressure at its highest.... Strike 3!!! I absolutely hate driving that truck!!! She is a pretty thing after a good waxing, but that's as far as I take a liking to her...
$10k later, including a rebuilt tranny and 2 DIY transfer case replacements, the truck is nearly perfect in my husband's eyes.... but then the poor thing falls to vandalism once again! :( :( :( Only this time it was 2 slashed tires and a broken windshield! This time we filed a police report! But of course nothing ever came of it, unfortunately.... It was easy to replace, but costly and getting no justice after being vandalized twice (parked in the driveway the 2nd time), left us feeling sour and foul mouthed.... Now we have cameras on the driveway and street! Regardless of the vandalism, there's always something needing to be replaced it seems... this truck feels like a money pit in my mind... strike 4...
Special Note: If you have found or follow me on Twitter (DsCarWife) and come here to read my posts... I have a little treat tweet coming! Stay Tuned!
Part. 8 coming soon

Tldr: would you replace an old Bolt with an euv or would you wait and get something else in a couple years.?
I'm in Canada but I'll do my best to convert to imperial units. Also there is no $7500 tax credit here... Instead I get a federal grant right off the after tax price.
So I have a 2018 EV premiere with 100k miles on it, battery was already replaced 1yr / 30k miles ago. I paid about 22k USD for it over a year ago. I can sell/ trade it for about 18k USD right now.
I can get a new EUV premier sun and sound locally for about 33k USD out the door.
So it's going to cost me about 15K USD (20k CAD) to upgrade to a new EUV. My wife has a 2020 premier and there's definitely a few features I covet. Like the HD cameras and she gets better efficiency in range than I do. Which would definitely help because the winter is here get better cold down to as low as -40f overnight for a few weeks a year.
I can continue to drive my car as it's working great and wait a year or two for better tech such as faster DCFC and heat pump which I would benefit from.

I am looking for a decent phone to replace my very annoying Redmi 10 which has been full of bugs and has been needing workarounds for them for more than a year now (apps crashing all the time, screen freezing etc.). I know, it's a very cheap phone so what was I expecting, but spending much on a gadget was never my cup of tea. But with all these bugs I am done with Xiaomi (at least for now) so I am thinking of buying a Google Pixel.
I mostly use Telegram, Instagram, Youtube and I listen to podcasts on Spotify. I want the battery to last with these activities at least a day. For once in my life I would also appreciate a good camera on my phone like the iPhone users have. I have a Galaxy Watch 4 so connection with this device is important too.
Thing is that I could afford an expensive phone but I don't want to buy one out of principle. I don't care about the details like screen refresh rate and the others, which should be no surprise considering my current phone. I don't play games, I am a layman when it comes to these specs. I've read that the Pixel phones have problems with the fingerprint sensors, but then again, that's something I've never used and don't plan to.
I've also read that the Pixels have many bugs too. Is this true? If yes, then I might even consider a different brand if you have any suggestions, please. Like I said, I would like a phone which is worth the money, and I am willing to spend more if it's really justified be it Samsung or even an iPhone.
I am considering the Pixel because it's really cheap, it can do everything that my current Xiaomi is capable of, but also has a great camera, something I've never had. I just don't want the same nightmare full of bugs that I had in the past 1.5 years with Xiaomi.
I can buy the Pixel 6A for 280 euros, or the Pixel 7 for 480 euros, both brand new. Do you think either of these is worth the money considering my needs, or is there any other phone I should consider? Please give me advice on this topic.
Thank you in advance!

Link to chapter on RoyalRoad
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📷
“Ahh… That feels good… Right there, right there… Ooh… Thank the Lord…”
“Old man, could you be a bit quieter while I’m doing it?”
It was right after bath time, and Ayomide was busy with drying everybody’s hair as usual. “[Wind], [Wind], [Wind]…” A lack of towels and hairdryers made her magic essential in making sure nobody got a cold. The wind also doubled as a sort of massage, which was why old man Brown was making those odd noises of pleasure as written above.
Tater, who had been the first one to get his hair dried, was watching the two while he himself was trying to light a fire for the night. It wasn’t an easy process, he had to strike a steel kitchen knife to a piece of flint in hopes that the kindling would catch fire, which it sometimes refused to do. “Lady Orange, can’t you cast some fire for poor old me?”
Ayomide answered without thinking. “No, I cannot.”
“Why not? Ain’t you a magician? I thought you could do all kinds of stuff.” Tater had heard tales of magicians comitting many wondrous acts, yet Ayomide’s job of being a glorified drying machine seemed too ordinary.
Tater’s question had ignited Brown’s curiosity as well. “I’ve been wondering the same thing, young lady.”
The old man’s encounter and reckoning with ‘magic’ had not been easy, ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’ made it pretty clear what the Lord thought about magicians. However, the ‘magic’ of Gemeinplatz didn’t have much to do with acts of magic mentioned in the Bible. Brown had concluded that this ‘magic’ was most likely a highly malleable, misnamed natural force of some sort (which could be used benevolently or malevolently like any other force) that hadn’t been present back on Earth. Thus, he himself avoided using the word ‘magic’, though he hadn’t yet found any other word to replace it.
“Right… I got taught this stuff by an old lady around ten years ago, so take this with a grain of salt.” She wasn’t exactly the best authority to give the obligatory exposition on magic, but Ayomide would have to give it a shot. “So, the world is apparently made of seven elements. Earth, water, air, fire, aether, light and dark.”
“I know earth, water, air, fire and aether to be elements, young lady, as devised by Aristotle. What might be the other two?” Brown had died around the time when the atomic theory was slowly gaining mainstream acceptance. The four (plus one, aether) elements were the best that Brown, an avid reader of the classics, had in terms of knowledge in physics.
“Right. The names of the other elements explain themselves. Light is, well, light. You know, the stuff that gives life to plants and animals, hence healing stuff is in the domain of light. Like what I did with the old man’s arm. And dark is, dark. The opposite of light. Disease, death, mind control, all that stuff.” Ayomide scratched her head, trying to think of more couth ways to elaborate on the elements. “Well, as I said, I heard about it all when I was a kid. So that’s all I’ve got on the elements.”
Tater seemed unsatisfied. “So, what’s that got to do with you being unable to light a fire?”
“I was getting to that point, kid. So, with this magic stuff, everybody’s attuned to different elements at different levels. That’s why you see different folks casting different things. Far as I’ve seen, I’m attuned to wind and light.”
“Interesting…” Brown’s mind was more at ease. It seemed that this ‘magic’ didn’t have any relation anything ungodly like the Devil himself or any other demons. A question popped up in his relaxed mind. “And why do you have to shout ‘wind’ every time you need to blow wind?”
“You don’t actually have to shout anything. Watch.” Ayomide paused, thinking really hard. Wind, wind, uhh… Let there be wind. Wind, wind, wind… [Wind]! A sudden breeze blew towards Brown’s face. “You need to envision what you want to bring forth. Shouting what you want to do just makes it easier.”
“We have to be careful around people then. Just gagging them might not do the job.” Brown seemed satisfied as he got up. “It’s getting late. You know what they say…”
Tater finished Brown’s sentence. “…early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. We don’t need to hear it for the umpteenth time, captain.”
📷
76th of Spring, 5859 A copper mine atop Mount Curry, Azdavay / Casamonu
Shinasi hadn’t expected to get himself employed again this suddenly and so soon. Of course, he wasn’t going to the copper mine just to get employed, he was under Brown’s orders to scout out the facility and formulate a plan to help the slaves escape with minimal casualties.
He had gotten on the road as soon as he had bid his farewells to the people of the cave. The road from the cave to the copper mine wasn’t too long; it was only around an hour’s walk. Shinasi found himself at the mine before the sun had properly risen.
One of the overseers tipped his hat in greeting. “Good morning, Shinasi was it?”
Shinasi tipped his helmet in return. “Morning. Yes, that’d be me.”
“The boss wants to see you, before you begin working.” The overseer pointed to the biggest building in the area. “He should be in the mansion.”
📷
Shinasi parted ways with this overseer, making his way to the door of the ‘mansion’. It was a pretty small building for a mansion, with only two floors. Guess this is the best you can get in the mountains. The noble who lived here probably wasn’t the richest. Shinasi proceeded to knock on the front door. He was greeted by a maid opening the door.
“I’m the new guard that Sir Algernon’s looking for.” All this formality had already made Shinasi begin to feel sick.
The maid took a disinterested look at Shinasi. “Leave your weapons at the door please.” Shinasi obliged and parted ways with his beloved spear and shield. “Come in.”
Shinasi was greeted by an indoors that, while definitely affluent, wasn’t too rich in decoration. Most of the items were made or decorated with copper, probably with the copper that had been gathered in the mine. There was even a bust of what Shinasi assumed to be the owner, he couldn’t read the inscription below it, of the mansion. The maid opened a door, wherein lay a thirtysomething in a sharp one-piece suit and bearing an even sharper mustache. Shinasi removed his helmet and held it over his chest, which was the standard way to greet a superior in Gemeinplatz. “Greetings, sir.” He even bowed down a bit to add a extra bit of sycophancy.
📷
Sir Algernon looked pleased with the actions of Shinasi. “Welcome, I see that you are a well-bred man Shinasi. It’s rare to find such adventurers.” He gestured towards a seat that sat in front of him. “Here, you may sit down. I am Sir Algernon Satō-Wang of Curry, and this is my wife, Leila. We have two children as well, though they’re currently a bit busy being tutored upstairs.” Shinasi had missed the woman sitting on the other side of the room, he bowed down to her as well.
Leila was fanning her face with a paper fan as she spoke. “I’m happy that he seems to be different compared to the other adventurer we called up, dear.” Shinasi noticed that her abdomen was greatly swollen, signaling that she was pregnant. Her outfit was equally as sharp as Algernon’s.
Algernon nodded his head in agreement. “Indeed, I have high hopes for him.”
📷
That’s a bit too much for a temporary worker, isn’t it… “Sir, please, you do not need to spend so many words of praise someone coming here temporarily.” Showing humility was a great way to warm up with the nobles, or that was what Shinasi had learned anyways.
“Temporary? Right, that’s what was told to you. After seeing you however, I believe you could have permanent employment. It’s hard to get good retainers up in these mountains.” Algernon switched to business mode, extending his hand toward Shinasi for a handshake. “Two libra a day, with accommodation and food taken care of and one day break every decameron?” He was a master at blitzkrieg, his krieg being flattery and business.
Two libra wasn’t bad, it amounted to somewhere around four loaves of bread. Shinasi didn’t think too hard about it while shaking hands with Algernon however, for he wasn’t here for a job. “Thank you so, so much sir.”
“Well, let’s celebrate with something to drink, shall we?” Algernon clapped his hands as loudly as he could muster. “Ekene! Ejike!”
The young maid that had greeted Shinasi at the door returned with a tray with teacups, along with a butler that looked to be her brother who carried a pot of tilia tea. Ekene, the sister, set the teacups while Ejike, the brother, began pouring tea into them without saying a word. While pouring Ejike’s hand slipped and the tea from the pot flew onto Algernon’s oh-so precious suit.
“What the- Damn you, dog!” The calm, businesslike demeanor of Algernon suddenly shifted to that of a savage. He was about to stand up to enact physical punishment, before Leila tugged on his suit. “Dear, be calm.”
Ekene and Ejike were watching their master in fear as he went back to business mode. “Right, I probably shouldn’t damage the slaves too much. But this is the kind of actions these uppity darkskins pull off when you don’t let me tutor them properly, woman. He paused to think of a punishment that wouldn’t make his wife too mad. “No food for you today. Now git!”
The siblings obliged and left the room posthaste. Algernon turned toward Shinasi to address his new employee. “You see, these darkskins are like dogs. You need to use brute force to get them to understand anything, or else they get uppity like they did just now. Don’t hesitate to get physical, as long as you don’t kill or permanently damage them. Got that?”
Shinasi tried his best to keep a poker face. “Yes sir.” He had never seen how masters treated their slaves. Algernon’s behavior seemed no different to how Shinasi had seen lords treat their underlings, to how they had treated his parents. “I’ll be sure to give them a good whack if they step out of line.”
“Good, good. I think we’ll get along well.” Algernon smiled toward Shinasi, with genuine warmth that seemed out of place after what he had just done and ordered to be done to his slaves. He seemed to genuinely value his retainers. “You should report to the head overseer, he’s the one responsible for you.”
“Understood sir. I’ll be taking my leave, then.” Shinasi added a few more words of gratitude and flattery as he got up and left the room. His heart was weighed down by heavy emotions as he did so. He had initially joined Brown mostly on a whim, intending to escape from Azdavay. The words he spent at the night encounter with Ayomide, they were mostly points he had copied over from the captain’s speech without much personal elaboration.
Now, however, Shinasi was slowly beginning to understand why he must do what he’d do. He made his way to the head overseer, with newfound determination slowly budding in his heart.

I recently purchased a Canon AE1 Program and have had issues with the power when the camera got a little hot was on a beach in 25C weather for a couple hours under a shirt in a bag). After this the shutter wouldn't work as the camera had no power. I replaced the battery and still it didn't work, but a few days later it just started working again. Wondering if anyone's has had this issue before, was I just stupid leaving it out in the heat or do you think something else is wrong? PS - had a similar issue when travelling Europe in the winter in the cold

recently purchased a Canon AE1 Program and have had issues with the power when the camera got a little hot was on a beach in 25C weather for a couple hours under a shirt in a bag). After this the shutter wouldn't work as the camera had no power. I replaced the battery and still it didn't work, but a few days later it just started working again. Wondering if anyone's has had this issue before, was I just stupid leaving it out in the heat or do you think something else is wrong? PS - had a similar issue when travelling Europe in the winter in the cold

I recently purchased a Canon AE1 Program and have had issues with the power when the camera got a little hot (was on a beach in 25C weather for a couple hours under a shirt in a bag). After this the shutter wouldn’t work as the camera had no power. I replaced the battery and still it didn’t work, but a few days later it just started working again. Wondering if anyone’s has had this issue before, was I just stupid leaving it out in the heat or do you think something else is wrong? PS - had a similar issue when travelling Europe in the winter in the cold

(Hey everyone! Finally out of the shadow realm! Im reposting chapter five here as it got wiped last time, 6 is still percolating away in my head, but in the mean time, enjoy! Comments are appreciated!)
(Previous)
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/13o95ds/eodat_ch4_whats_old_is_new_again/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
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4-LOM rolled up to the holotable, the aging shipbuilder looking over the various fleet and division commanders.
4-LOM was an old Mk1 astro robot, his main body was a sphere, with four mechanical arms extending from his body, two large and bulky, and the other two smaller, more nimble and accurate, more dexterous, with a cylindrical lower body leading down to his treads, which were angular, tank like in shape, designed for heavy lifting. His head was flat, with a duo of square optics, a set of welding shields flipped up, ready to flip down when and where needed. His backpack was open, with tools sticking out, ready to be grabbed and used.
Looking around, he noted that the Saurians had their Admiral, a middle age Rox, their massive, tyrannasauric form still managing to tower over most of the others, even in holo, while Serano stood next to him. Nearby, Hota sat, nursing a coffee, rubbing his head, while one of the chief science officers hologram glanced at him nervously.
Another door entered, and a Mk12 frame entered, standing at the table. At first glance, the frame looked pristine, but 4-LOM wasn't fooled. He wasn't a shipwright for nothing, and he could see the pitting under the paint where plasma weaponry had uselessly splashed off, taking with it little layers of metal with it. Despite how new the frame looked, it was clear it had seen some action, recently as well, judging by the fresh coat of paint.
More holograms of fleet officials, and the bridges, or representations of their ships, flickered in above their shoulders. Serano looked like he had an old sailing ship floated there idly, a representation of the Enterprise. Some had wasps, while one captain had a cartoonish Barbus fish, with an old style white sailors cap and a belt of dynamite.
And then a small black hole flickered into view in front of his faceplate, making him roll back with a start. Getting a good look at the now pulsing black hole, he seemed to frown, one of his welding shields rising higher to simulate a eyebrow raise….. "Horizon? Is that you, little lass?" He said, with a thick, Scottish accent as his other shield rose up to join the other in shock.
The holographic black hole bobbed up and down in the air, two arms extending out from its corona and spun, as if to represent it, no, her, spinning in happiness. For a moment, 4-LOM was silent, before he began laughing, reaching up, even as his servo passed through the holo. "Ach, what I wouldn't give ta be in the Link with ye, lassie! I'm glad ye survived." He said, as the little ever hungry representation of the ship spun around him, before it shot off, floating near the Mk12, who looked at it.
The 12s head tilted more, as it listening to what the ship was saying, while 4-LOM felt a bit of possessiveness flair. Horizon was one of HIS creations, his and his wife's. Their ships were like children for them. Rolling over, he mentally began preparing a bit of what his wife would call the shovel talk, something they used to do with Captains that took on their vessels……
"Did you need something, Grandfather?" The machine said, domed head snapping to his, taking the wind out of his sails, and stare blankly at the taller, thinner machine.
Behind him, he heard Serano chuckle behind him, even as the Rox raised an eyeridge, while the Saline sat his mug down and placed his head in his hands.
"Grandfather- oh. I see…." He said, gaze turning flat as he gave a glare at Horizon. "I see the little gremlin is still able to make me short a fuse or two. Void knows Maria's hair turned white before she had to move bodies due to someone's antics." The little black hole pulsed sharply, as if squawking. "Would have appreciated a warning she made herself a captain…. Lassie, ye best be teaching him self preservation instincts." Catching the snort from the Rox and the sigh from Serano.
Slowly, his head turned around to face the two, one shield twitching, and finally saw Hota looking up with a flat look. "Too late on that one. I'll pass you the after action report later, AFTER the meeting." Serano said, hiding a smile. "If you want a first hand account, ask Hota. From what I understand, he had a front row seat for the Chaos the two caused."
She wasn't a little ship anymore, she wasnt- ah kriff it all. She was still his little lass. He'll talk with her later…preferably with Maria there…..after he grabbed his wrench and had a….. talk….. with whoever was their crew.
/------------------/
All the admirals and fleet commanders were soon in place, Asimov standing to the side, near the Admiral Serano, Horizons representation floating next to his head as his own panned about, looking at the assembled species. Several robotic ones, not Astro Robot series, called Glinch, looked at him curiously, while he picked out several different….Saurians, a few Roxes, several Trikes.
Several were pale, white skinned humans, bald, be they male or female. Clones, like himself, but with organic bodies, accompanied by nat-born humans, and several more advanced Astro Robot series units, these ones looking everything from near human, to large and bulky, armed with cannons, inbuilt missile launchers on their upper arms, and massive treads, or slimmer, almost skeletal ones with modules that could be swapped out at a moments notice.
"I appreciate ye all for coming on such short notice" 4-LOMs voice said, cutting over the gentle hubbub of the side conversations. "I had hoped that we wouldn't be facing them again, but here we are." The robot said as one of his smaller limbs tapes a command into the console, pulling up images of Everwatch stations current…condition. "Those of yeh from Federation space are more familar of the old stories, battle videos and the like. The Demons, as the Human Federation calls them, have been returned. It's only thanks to the work of Representative Hota that we have this information….. and had stumbled across an old Ace that had woken back up in time for this chaos." 4-LOM said, nodding to the Saline, getting the attention of his compatriots, who he shook his head to.
"Our opponents are equipped with biotech vessels, and are known for appropriating technology to forcibly integrate it with their own. Which means keep an eye out for a worse hodgepodge of weapons than a pirate vessel after its crew hits a pound of Spice and then gets drunk at a star port." 4-LOM said dryly, as various, old, images of the vessels and a few of the newer ones. "That being said, expect the sheer firepower jammed onto each of these ships to be on the higherside. However, they need long recharge periods, likely due to whatever power source used overloading, or the capacitor banks running dry and needing to recharge. Don't be fooled, they do have some form of biological armament, acid spitters, spike launchers, the works." He said, as images flicked up organic turrets, tentacles, and what looked like maws.
"As of right now, several of our larger vessels are being inspected and repaired, resupplied, and upgraded as needed. Several older vessels are being pulled out of mothball for the same reason. All civilian vessels are being drafted for emergency roles, receiving refit with hardware that will allow them to fight in a pinch, though their primary objective will be escorting transport ships and acting as emergency evacuation ships. We won't be expecting them to fight, but we need every ship we can get."
An image flickered into view of what amounted to the humans old museum of warships and deep space vessels, revealing it to be a hive of activity. Many other races had laughed at humanity for keeping their old vessels, rather than scrapping them, but now, now there was a reason why humanity had.
"Patrol fleets are to be at least one Saline Sensor ship, two to three Buckler class Trike Shield Bearers, one Rox Artillery ship, one Vohle capable human vessel, Two human PT ships, and three Raptor Swift claws." 4-LOM said, "these things aren't to be taken lightly. Sensors pick them up, call it in and engage. Stall for time if needed for reinforcements to arrive. Intercept fleets are to consist of five Trike Aegis class Shield Bearers, six Swift claws, one Rox supercarrier, three Rox artillery ships, two Saline Auxiliary ships, one Saline Medical cruiser, one Human Vohle Super-carrier, eight human PT ships, two Human Iowa class destroyers." The elderly bot belted out, making several Captains and admirals wince. Those weren't lightweight ships. The 'patrol' fleet could have been considered a planetary invasion force.
Before anyone could make any arguments or questions as to why the fleets were set to the Human classic of 'Maximum Overkill', and before any more ridiculous fleet deployments could be called out, a slightly panicking human sprinted into the room. "Sir! Confirmed hostile assault on Tisan-4" the human said, breathing heavily. "The Demons made planet fall, looks like a small invasion force that had left before the incursion field went up."
4-LOM stared….and then sighed. "Well, Caliburn had been itching for a fight." He sighed and placed a servo over his optics.
/-----------------------------------/
WARNING: Hostiles detected. Match confirmed; species D-65.
Threat level:Apollyon. Combat systems:unlocked.
That was what appeared on the Colony Managers terminal as alarms screamed across the Colony, alerts screaming on PADDs, sirens spinning as bunkers opened up.
An aging Wargen bared his teeth as he rapidly tapped at his terminal, as the younger human clone stood grimly at her manager's terminal.
"Civilians are filling out the bunkers, tunneling charges are set and ready to clear escape routes." The elderly, wolf like Wargen said, his muzzle splitting into four as he spoke, one part vertical, the other horizontally. "Colonial militia are manning hard points and connecting to systems now."
"Understood." The Colony manager said and let out a long breath, before opening the PA system. "All hands, brace for Activation procedure. I repeat, all hands, brace for activation procedure." She said, before securing herself in on one of the chairs, even as the commander buckled himself in across from her, even as terminals all around them flickered and the building shuddered and shook, new lights came online all over.
"And the other races call our alliance insane for building the bunkers" The Wargen muttered under his breath as the command room became a flurry of activity, sensor teams working together in an attempt to get data on their opponents. "Our people are safe. That's what matters, commander." The clone said softly, looking at her long time friend, even as the hidden defense system of the Colony woke up.
/------------/
Outside, the demonic army approached, on a slow, steady March, disgruntled at the lack of organics they had found to use. They needed biomass to fuel their war machine, to create their bases, their armies, their ships. And while they didn't care much about the sheer number of ships they lost during planet fall thanks to the orbital defenses, they needed to deal with the local defense computers. There had to be a way to broadcast an all clear signal and allow their other ships past.
Before them sat a large, fortified structure, looked like a massive cathedral, really. The irony was not lost on them as ports on the castle-like structure opened up, and began spitting metallic shells at them, exploding after punching through their infantry, leaving craters behind, destroying more of their forces.
The ground shook as their massive siege beast began forming from the splattered biomass, like some strange, oozing horror, slowly forming into a quadropodic creature.
The beast was mostly just a giant mouth in legs, with a long, worm like body lined with eyes, teeth, spikes, and tendrils, flinging said teeth at the structure.
Warlord Gistle ground his teeth as he stared at the cathedral as it held its own, his forces decimated by the attempted rain of metal. Said rain changed to one of scalding plasma as the castle changed tactics to try and burn the bodies to prevent them from forming additional, stronger units.
"Battle lord." Hissed one of the smaller battle chiefs said, as they stepped up next to Gistle. "The Seekers have not located where the miserable Frails have hidden themselves. Our efforts would be best put to entering the fortress ahead." The chief said, pointing at the massive fortress as the siege beast brushed off the weapons fire.
"No need, we will be inside soon en-" Came the guttural voice of the Warlord, before it was interrupted by a computerized voice, echoing out.
"THREAT ASSESSED. ASSUMING COMBAT MODE."
There was a rumble, everyone grabbing onto the stablest thing around them as the ground tore apart, the siege beast stumbling back, as the building tore up its own foundations as steam hissed out, and part of the building lifted up, and then slammed into the ground, and then the other side, slowly pulling itself up….and up…and up……
The structure wasn't a structure. Not any more. Towering over them, looking like a massive hunchback stood the cathedral, it's towers opening, revealing to be cowling around massive artillery cannons. It's arms, once covered with flat pillars, opened up to reveal a set rotating barrels, slowly spinning up, and a bulky duo of MAC batteries on the other arm. Sticking off the side of its upper arms were smaller hardpoints, each turret armed with four barrels, small and accurate, sniping ground units with horrifying accuracy, the soft metal shells ripping away to reveal their incendiary cargo held within steel mesh, allowing the coilguns to spit them out rapidly.
The head section looked like a sphere with three optics in a triangular formation, around a cannon that locked onto the siegebeast and whined, arcing brightly, before it fired, a bright flash seen as the cannon went off, it's round leaving behind a trail of fire as it raced through the air, punching through the beast, making it howl, and began trying to heal the injury that pierced it, ripping open a hole below it.
It's bipedal legs were thick, armored, and just as equally armed, it's lower legs armed with rotary cannons that spun, the lower pair foring a heavy stream of plasma, one barrel firing and then cooling as it spun, the others keeping the pace up, while above them, physical artillery was spat out, helping pierce armor for the plasma to scorch and burn to uselessness. More cannons sat on the sides and back of its legs in, taking aim at the surrounding armies, making sure to add on their screeches of rage.
Hanging off the underside of the platform that held the Cathederal sat more turrets, each swiveling around and adding to the chaos, their mini MAC armament chattering as they fired, picked a new target and fired again. On the top of the platform were AA cannons, taking aim and firing into the air, altering the timing of their rounds so that they acted as impromptu artillery, while more cannons, on four turrets, covered the monstrosities back, preventing them from sneaking up behind it, as if the cannons on the back of its legs weren't enough to cover it.
"TARGET ACQUIRED."
Warlord Gistle hissed in shock. The Frails had been LIVING in a Siege beast of their own!? Hidden partially underground, deceiving them to make it seem as if it was nothing more than a fortification!?
"Have all expendable units merge with our Siege beast, NOW! if the frails continue to pick our forces off one by one, they will never be able to reinforce our beast after they fall!" Gistle roared, even as around him the battle chiefs barked out the orders……..
/-------------/
The massive machine stared down at the hostile forces as they turned into a thick, biological slurry, short of the Demons themselves, and oozed towards the horror before it.
The monster seemed to absorb the substance on contact, growing larger and larger with each passing moment, howling and hissing.
He could feel his crew cursing in their heads, humans and otherwise, lighting the slurry up with plasmafire, burning some of it, but not enough. Caliburn agreed with them, as his Plasma getting cannon spun up, the five barrels glowing brightly, the heatsinks by the ends of the barrel glowing as the machine poured plasmafire from the barrels, searing into the beasts body, burning it up as it grew, stunting its growth heavily, and forcing it to consume more biomass to make heavy, chitenous armor, layers burning away under the assault.
Caliburn could feel the dust coming off as his gears spun, and he stepped forward, swinging the glowing arm as it cooled down, making the horror screech as he spun his upper body to add to the force of the blow, digging the glowing heating into the beast's face and knocking it back, buying time for his crew to deal with the horrific slurry around them, which still tried to fuse with the horror, chasing after it with a single minded determination.
As his upper body slowed down and he was facing forward again, he saw the beast setting up, snarling. His other arm came up, and he could feel his capacitors burning as he began firing his MAC arm at it, the massive, vehicle sized slugs punching into the beast, knocking it back farther, punching holes in the chitin it tried to grow as armor, making it hiss and move rapidly, trying to put distance between itself and the machine.
Unfortunately, the beast had the advantage in land speed, as it had four legs, while Caliburn only had two and lumbered slowly forward, his aging systems relishing the taste of combat after so long. And now he had far better weapons then a simple crane arm, like he had last time he fought a creature like this.
Because the beast had put distance between itself and him, it managed to absorb the last of the biomass, and began bounding forward, it's maw open, teeth spinning like some sort of Cuisinart….
A target he couldn't miss. His head cannon barked again, not as powerful as last time, but this time, he wasn't trying to rip it apart from the inside. The shell detonated on contact with the teeth, shredding them, tearing into the soft flesh within, making the beast howl and close its maw, it's chitin armor weathering the plasma splashing off, hardened to withstand the smaller weapons fire his crew spat at the creature.
His arms pulled their shrouding back around them, as he drew back and swung, hard, again using his body spinning to his advantage, striking the beast, the heavy weight of the heatsink and the weapon itself burying the shroud covered arm inside, the end opening up. Unfortunately, thanks to the partial shrouding, he wouldn't be able to spin his cannon, but all he needed was one shot inside it, and let it fly, ripping his arm out as it howled, smoke billowing from its new hole it tried rapidly to heal.
The tendrils it had tried to dig into his arm burned away as he kicked it up from below and began unloading both arms, fully unshrouded, the heat coming off both of them making steam hiss up into the air, as the beast took a heavy slug and then a plasma bolt, one after the other, deep into its stomach, sending it onto its back.
Loud popping sounds were heard as its limbs reoriented, allowing its former belly to become its back, the holes sealing slowly as it circled the walking cathedral, even as Caliburn scanned it, his upper body following its every movement. His command crew were breaking down every schematic and scan he gave them, working hard to figure out a way to kill the horror.
In the mean time, Caliburn and his crews would do their damndest to stall the beast and continue on their current plan. Burn it down, slowly.
He could feel his crews tracking the retreating demon forces, listening to the mental chatter within him as the artillery crews happily worked together to figure out their path, searching for the enemy command position, even as sensor crews watched as the rapidly approaching flood of biomass and machinery charged for them, some of the artillery crews already letting loose N-4 shells, the 'super-napalm', as the crews nicknamed them, impacting and exploding, burning into the biomass, unquenchable, even as the biomass attempted and failed to smother the burning substance, only serving to make it worse, melting the weaponry it carried with it.
The only reason why the crews could get away with it was because the biomass wasn't near the Bunkers exits or near infrastructure. Or Burnable items.
Command soon had a viable target, a sort of brain mass it had, separated throughout its body in a vain attempt to make sure it could still operate when a few of them were destroyed.
Several had been burned away by the plasma bolt going off inside of it, but many more remained, and it was attempting to make more/replace the burned away ones. They needed to eliminate the command signal….
Jubilation and grim satisfaction bloomed in his sensor and artillery crews, as he felt the mad scramble for bunker busting shells, before they were let loose into the air. Even as he blocked a tail strike from the beast and managed to crush its head under one foot, letting his landing engines ignite for the first time in decades to burn the creature more, his crews targeted the command bunker, shelling it with deadly accuracy, smoke rising from the hill they were tucked away behind in the distance, making Caliburn burn with satisfaction and praise for his crew.
/---------------------/
Gistle ran as fast as his hooves could move him, teeth barred as he snarled.
Around him, their command temple shook and shuddered, veins bursting, cables arcing wildly as the biomass contracted involuntarily or simply sagged, turning to biomass.
"Warlord, they are heavily shelling our position, we won't be able to retreat at this rate!" Hissed one of the Battle Chiefs at his side, hissing in fear, even as he snarled at the Pitiful, compared to him, creature. "We won't be taking everyone, only the essentials. The Everlasting King must be notified of this development. King be damned, the frails took the time to prepare for our arrival again." He growled as he came out to a hanger area, and ran into a small, fast ship, even as the others ran into larger, bulkier, slower ships.
Soon, the chitin that served as the door opened, and they shot out, erratically flying, trying to avoid the artillery shells, and now AA fire joining the fray.
He kept close to his compatriots, using them as a living shield as he twisted the small vessel around, smirking as he dodged the fire while they took it..
They were almost to space, soon, they could tear a Gate and get the fleet-
Reality tore open above him as a massive ring shaped vessel pushed itself into real space, disgorging hundreds of smaller vessels, bearing down on their positions, others engaging the floating fleet around them with aggressive assault runs, the sudden appearance in the system allowing them to have the element of surprise.
Weapons fire began filling the space around f them, tearing at their vessels faster then they could repair them as little, frail vessels zipped in and out of line of fire faster then they could shoot, track, or react, unloading slugs, plasma, torpedoes in a flurry of activity before diving away, allowing their munitions to wreak havoc amongst them.
Already, the larger vessels were disabled before Gistle managed to sacrifice one, smirking as it warped, it's biomass fueling the Gate, as he flew through, hoping he was in friendlier territories, unaware of a sensor torpedo flying in behind him.
/------------------------/
Down below, on the surface, Caliburn flung back his opponent again, arms blazing as he shelled it.
It was bigger then it had been, managing to absorb the biomass from the surviving landing ships and the remains of the command center they shelled out. It's armor was thicker, and was flinging out dozens, hundreds of calcium spikes, spitting its unknown energy weapons, only to splash off his shields, for the energy weapons, and his ar.or foe the calcium spikes, even as his weapons screeched.
The beast had holes all over its chitenous armor, from his shells punching in, or his artillery crews shelling the beast, his plasma following close behind as he sought to burn the creature out from the inside, going so far as to ram his plasma cannon inside and unload it, the rotating barrels helping tear it up from the inside as the heat sinks burned it.
Ships began dropping down from above, doing strafing runs, dropping smaller caliber explosives, distracting the beast as he tore another hole in it by spinning his upper body, one shrouded cannon arm striking the beast and ripping in, just as a gunship fired a Cleaner into it, just before it healed.
A burning flash of light, a horrific scream from the beast as it howled, body jerking as the explosive did its job…. Before it swung down, still alive, though just barely, it's armor shattering rather then buckling on the next strike from Caliburn, a facsimile of a uppercut, before the barrels let loose again, even as the plasma cannon dumped bolt after bolt into its lower body, searching for, burning the neural clusters as he found them.
The beast wrenched itself away from his grasp, snarling as it looked at him, the beast snarling as it tried to heal from the most recent injuries.
Caliburn felt his crew snarling back, his cannons swiveling around as they gave their response in munitions as he lumbered forward, the ground shaking from his steps and the escape ships erupting out of the ground around them, his rotary cannon screaming as it fired, the MAC on the other arm barking as he hit it again and again as it charged forward.
The beast no longer cared for its injuries, all it cared was to take the metal monster before it down, spitting acid out of it as it tried, and failed, to blind the machine, even as said machine swung its smoldering plasma cannon up and brought down the burning barrels down on its head, smashing it into the ground, pinning it there as it's crew continued shelling it out ruthlessly.
Caliburn refused to let the beast survive, he refused to let the thing get to the civilians. His crew snarled their agreement as the beast tore the pinned head off its body, even as it burned away to nothing, and tried to charge again, blindly, only to smash against the MAC arm and receive a pair of heavy slugs to the neck stump for its troubles, sending it somersaulting back, trying to reform its head.
It was much, much smaller now, now matching Caliburns size, due to all the biomass loss, it's head reforming as it snarled.
Caliburn seemed to roll his pauldrons and twitched his MAC, as if saying 'come at me'. The beast howled and charged forward, razor sharp tentacles erupting from its sides, whipping about wildly, only for turret crews to blast the tentacles off at the base, and for his artillery crews to shell it down from above, flattening it into the ground again with explosive shells.
Again, the beast began pulling itself out of the ground, only for another strafing run from aircraft , this time dropping standard napalm canisters onto the beast, making it howl as it healed around the canisters, and began burning from within.
It thrashed and writhed, tail and body whipping about, even as Caliburn kept firing, not letting up, shells puncturing the chitin bubble it was trying to form around the napalm to contain it, keeping it burning into the beasts body.
At last, the beast tried to fling itself at Caliburn, thinking that it could at least burn out the mechanical monster with it, only for Caliburn to swing and strike it, flinging it away again, the beasts body unable to get back up, and laid there, slowly burning away at last……………

I love my OnePlus 6 but it's pretty messed up at this stage, I replaced the screen, back and battery myself to try keep it alive but they only lasted a year. I'd honestly just buy another if they still existed. Are there any new-ish phones that are similar?
The only things I care about are: - Headphone jack - Decent camera, especially video - Doesn't stutter doing anything (so not super budget)
The rest I don't really care about, 60hz is fine, I don't play games etc

The Blackwood Forest has always been a source of legend in our town. Not for anything good, though. Everyone here fears it. They always remind newcomers to “Never go into Blackwood Forest.” Nobody who enters it ever comes back. At least, that was how things used to be.
​
One of the most famous incidents surrounding the forest occurred around 1989. A family of 6, the Franks, moved into a house not far from the forest. It had an expansive backyard, stretching up until the edge of the dense clusters of trees that make up the boundary of Blackwood Forest. One evening, they decided to eat dinner in their new backyard. They weren’t going into the forest, just the fire pit about halfway between their house and the trees. Another family of 3, the Andersons, joined them. At around 8:30, screaming was heard by nearby neighbors. The police were called. When they arrived, they found that the benches, tables, and chairs were soaked in blood. The grass was smeared with it in a path leading into the forest. There was no sign of either of the families. The police confirmed the blood of 9 individuals was present at the scene. Enough blood was lost to assume the deaths of all 9 individuals.
​
After that day, a massive fence was built around the forest, to keep us out, or keep other things in. The fence is 11 feet tall and designed to be impossible to climb over, with almost no footholds. A gate is kept locked tight, located at the end of a worn path leading out of the side of town. Nobody goes in, and nothing gets out. Not that anyone knows what took the Franks or Robinsons. Except, of course, for me. I’ve seen what lies beyond the gates of Blackwood Forest. I’ve seen the beasts that took those families, all those years ago.
​
The fence wasn’t really necessary to be perfectly honest. There aren’t really any trails to hike through the forest, and we don’t have many issues with kids doing stupid things like trying to sneak in for “fame.” Even if we did, the fence keeps them out. Therefore nobody has any reason to go into the forest. Everyone is too afraid.
​
But, although I listened to what everyone always said; “Never go into Blackwood Forest,” I was curious. My morning run took me past the fence and gate, and I would sometimes glance in to see what was in there. I thought it looked like a normal, albeit dark, forest. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very off. There weren’t many animals, like birds or squirrels, and you couldn’t hear the ones that were there very well. It was oddly quiet. At night, no crickets would be heard. No fireflies during the summer. It was oddly devoid of animal life for a dense forest with so many places for a small critter to live or a bird to make a nest. However besides that, it really didn’t seem that dangerous.
​
A few weeks ago, my curiosity got the best of me. I decided to see if there were any openings that I could slip into. Sure enough, on the very far side of the fence, opposite the side with the town, I found a small gap I could squeeze into. I decided that the next morning, I would grab my phone and camera and explore some of the forest close to the fence. I was excited to see what lay within, and wondered about what sort of stuff I might find. After all, nobody ever went in there.
​
The next day came, and after eating breakfast, I jogged to the small opening I’d found the previous day. I had a backpack with some water and food, as well as the camera and phone. I pushed my backpack through first, and then squeezed through the opening.
​
The first thing I noticed upon entering was how dark it was. The trees blocked out much of the sunlight. It was hard to see very much. Thankfully, I could use both my phone’s flashlight and the one attached to my camera. As I walked, the quiet of the forest around me felt eerie. There should have been the sounds of animals beginning to wake up and start their day, but instead there was silence. Every sound I made, like stepping on a tree, quickly was dampened out, as if swallowed whole by the trees.
​
After a few minutes of walking and taking pictures, I came upon a worn path. I was confused, since there was no reason for any path to have been here because nobody had ever lived in the forest. I took another photo, and decided to follow the path. After another few minutes of walking, I noticed a clearing with sunlight pouring into it ahead. In the very center of it sat an old, decrepit stone building. Off to the side, there was an old well. The building had a very weathered but readable sign, identifying it as “Blackwood Church.” I took a photo of the church and well and decided to enter. I was very curious, as nobody should have ever lived out here, this deep into the woods. There was a church that had been built as part of the original town, so it didn’t make sense for this one to be there.
​
I walked through the place where the doors would have been, had they not rotted off of the hinges. I could see the space around me because of several holes in the roof allowing sunlight in. It seemed like it was once fairly normal, though weeds had sprouted up through the floorboards which were falling apart. I stepped outside after snapping some photographs. I was going to leave back along the path and get out of the forest. As I walked, I noticed that there seemed to be several old buildings, almost destroyed, spread out on the edges of the clearing. I began to see the old worn paths made of cobblestone and dirt, almost invisible, having been reclaimed by nature. This wasn’t just some church, this was an entire town.
​
I was both shocked and excited. I spent the next hour taking photographs of all of the somewhat intact buildings and their rubble counterparts. I spent around an hour exploring the town, exploring a butchers shop, clothes store, and general store. I finally made my way to the path I had come in on. I noticed, underneath all of the foliage, there seemed to be a sign. I brushed some of the growth away and read the faded words; “Welcome to Blackwood, Population: 349, c. 1903.”
​
At this point, on top of the confusion, there was a growing feeling of nervousness in my gut. I’d never heard of any town in Blackwood Forest. Our town, Greyrock Springs, was founded in 1909. I searched the other houses on the outskirts of this ghost town. In one of them, I found the journal of a 19 year old girl named Ellie. She had moved into the town with her family, the Wilsons, and another one they were close friends with, the Millers. They had moved in 1905. The first dozen pages were normal entries about life around the town, her friend, 19 year old Janie Miller, and her older brother, 21 year old Shaun Miller. She and Shaun were apparently set to get married in a year, something Ellie wrote almost endlessly about. The 20th entry, dated September 17, 1905, however, was different.
​
The 20th entry said that 7 townsfolk and gone missing suddenly overnight. It read, “Last night 7 of our neighbors vanished. The Smith family and Mr. H. The Sheriff doesn’t know what happened to them. Their beds appear to have been slept in, and their homes appear normal. But nobody has seen or heard of any of them since 8:00 last night. I’m getting worried, some of the other neighbors are talking about dark shadows in the trees snatching them away. I hope they’re alright.”
​
After reading this, my anxiety started growing. What could have happened to the people who lived here? I looked at the next entry, 6 days later. It read “Almost everyone has vanished. The night after the first disappearances, 14 people vanished. The numbers got worse from there. The Sheriff, the butcher, the schoolteacher, all gone. Last night, 34 people, including the Millers, vanished. There are only 115 of us now. Janie and Shaun are gone, their beds unkempt, everything else in place as if they just got up and walked out. It’s 7:52 at night according to my clock. There are things making weird screeches out there. I can see the shadows outside. They’re drawing closer. I think I’m going to join Janie and Shaun tonight. At least I won’t have to live on without my friend and love.”
​
Terror was beginning to take hold now. I looked around the room. I realized that it was now noon. I had been reading for so long I had lost track of time. I got up, grabbed the journal, and ran out of the house, the feeling of being watched nearly overwhelming me. I got to the path I had walked in on. It was then that the screeching and wailing began.
​
It started as an inhuman, deep, gravelly sound, and then cracked and sounded like a dying person giving a final cry for help. Soon, a chorus of these other-worldly howls filled the forest. Terror shot through my body. I felt chills. I turned and scanned my surroundings, searching for the source of the sounds.
​
That was when I saw one of Them for the first time.
​
I don’t know how to describe Them here, but I will do my best to give you an idea of what lurks in those woods.
​
They are tall, around 7 feet, with pure black skin. No light reflects off of any part of Them, except for their milky white eyes. Brown veins reach for the center of the eye, where the iris and pupil would have been. Instead, there was just more white. In some places, Their flesh clings to Their bones as though they have been vacuum-sealed. In others, the flesh is gone, and only bone remains. Their entire body has pulsating, grey veins spiderwebbing from place to place. And Their mouths stretch from one side of the head to the other, nearly to the hinges connecting the jaw to the skull. Their teeth are thin as a needle, and they have hundreds of them.
​
One of Them was standing close to me, looking at me. It let out a screech-wail and started to run towards me. I turned and bolted, running towards the church, hoping to escape through an window-opening. As I reached the church, I turned and glanced back, only to see It standing near the well, not moving. Instead, it was growling at me. As we stared each other down, more of Them began to appear. They formed a ring around the church. I was now trapped. Panic began to set in more deeply, as I looked through the window-openings, trying to look for a weakness in the circle I could use to escape, and there was one. Directly behind the church, there was a large opening in the ring of monsters surrounding me. Taking several deep breaths and becoming as calm as I could given the circumstances, I took my opportunity and ran. I jumped out the window and sprinting with more force than I have ever used in my life.
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I made it to the trees, hearing their horrible screech-wails following uncomfortably close behind. I didn’t stop, running through the foliage like my life depended on it, which I could tell it did. Most of Them remained behind, but a few followed me deeper and deeper into the forest, not letting up. The trees and brush whipped at me, stinging and cutting my skin, but a continued, even going faster. I finally stopped when I couldn’t hear Them behind me anymore. By this point, it was closer to 2:00 P.M. I had run in the opposite direction I had entered Blackwood from. The adrenaline I had felt began to wear off, and I wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but I knew those things would keep looking for me until they found me.
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I spent the rest of the day cautiously searching for the fence, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find it. By the time it got dark, I was exhausted. The adrenaline from the whole day had turned into a mix of emotions, namely fear and anxiety. I decided to hide in a tree, in the event They found me. As I sat there, looking, I began to hear that screeching wail and those deep growls and grunts. They were close. I held my breath as the first one approached. It looked around, peering through the forest, searching for me. I got the feeling it knew I was close.
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It started to scan some bushes near the tree I was in, when It looked up suddenly. I fell from my spot in surprise, hitting the ground hard and with a grunt. It let out a wail, and started to approach me. I searched for something to use as a weapon, and found a sharp rock. I looked at the large veins covering It’s chest area. It seemed like the perfect target. It began to run, screeched and then lunged. I pulled the rock from behind my back and sliced with ferocity, cutting through the veins like paper. It screamed and shrieked, black ooze shooting out of the wound like a hose until it stopped. The creature let out a final wail before collapsing to the ground. I looked at it. I could hear a sickly breathing coming from the thing. Before it died, I heard a distorted but human voice mutter a weak “Thank.. you..” and then the breathing stopped. I was stunned. I didn’t have much time to think about it, because more wails could be heard approaching fast in the distance. I continued to run through the forest, more adrenaline pumping through my veins, fear at the back of my mind. I ran for a long time until I ended up back in that town. I hid in the church, underneath the floorboards. At some point, I fell asleep from exhaustion.
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The next 6 days were awful. I spent most of them hiding, slowly running through my food and water I had packed. One morning, as I reached the last of my water, I realized I had to escape. Although They searched the forests for me, I thought I could slip past Them and make it to the fence. But after a few minutes of preparing, I heard those wails approaching from the distance yet again. I grabbed my backpack and stepped outside again. I looked, seeing the creatures from before step out from the trees. I prepared myself, and ran. All of them began to follow me, their screeches cutting through the quiet of the forest and reminding me of how close I was to death. I went down that same worn path, sprinting through the woods. One jumped out in front of me, forcing me to veer off the path and into the forest. I ran, nearly tripping and getting cut on the branches. That was when I saw it. Ahead of me, finally, lay the fence. I took off the backpack as I approached. There was the gap. I was about to escape. They were close now, just a few yards away. I forced the backpack through the opening, forcing myself through it just as they reached the fence.
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I turned to look back at them, snapping one final photograph. I’m not entirely sure why I did that, but maybe I just wanted proof of the truth. That I wasn’t crazy. What I saw was real. I grabbed the backpack and ran back towards town, towards safety, towards home, their growls and wails fading behind me.
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I want to say that I’m safe now, that everything is ok, but it isn’t. A week ago, I started to hear whispers from my neighbors of wails, screeches, and growls coming from the fence. If anyone looked in the direction the sound was coming from, it stopped. I had to walk past the fence a few days ago, and I heard it. I was all alone. The fence started to rattle as well. I turned to look, but only saw a tall shadow slipping into the darkness of the trees.
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Last night, two people who were walking past the fence vanished.
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That brings us to today.
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I know what They want. They are angry. I wasn’t supposed to escape. I don’t want to do this, but I won’t endanger anyone else who lives here.
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I’ll leave the photos, camera, and journal in my desk for safe keeping. That way people will understand what I saw, at least partially. People will hear the story of the townspeople of Blackwood. That is the reason I’m posting this. So more of you know.
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I have accepted my fate. After I post this, I will walk to the gate, and I will be taken. I don’t know for sure, but I think I will become one of Them, cursed to walk Blackwood Forest forever. My consciousness will be left a fragment, my humanity gone, as I walk the forest and wail, screech, and growl. This is the end for me. If anyone cares, my name is Daniel. I am 29 years old. I live in Greyrock Springs. If you come here, to find me or Blackwood or those things, or maybe even the pictures and journal, remember one thing.
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Never go into Blackwood Forest.

battery - really anywhere between 6 - 10 hrs of sot. factors such as display resolution, refresh rate and performance profile actually have a minimal impact on this in my experience but using cellular instead of wifi is likely to reduce your sot by 1-2 hours. mobile hotspots barely drain from my experience.
performance - zzzzzzzzzzzzzz what can i say. I don't game much but most games sip power. I do still find it a little weird how the phone is pretty laggy when booting up though. itll show a 4 or 5 second startup dialogue then be really slow for the next 10-15 seconds. would be nice if it was smooth right off the bat like iphone.
camera - the main 12/50/200 lens is very refined. would be cool is the app could let you tune the brightness/exposure better since i feel like just tapping the frame makes it too bright. remember to get camera assistant.
- disabling auto hdr (its really aggressive and createsa weird outlining around subjects) and scene optimiser
- setting picture softening to off or medium
- enabling quick tap shutter and prioritise focus over speed
- disable auto lens switching if it is enabled.
Features - S pen is cool i use it sometimes, the phone itself is a feature because of the freedom you get.
UI - notifs are good. quick panel is bloated. otherwise the user experience is pretty similar to ios.
Apps - This is probably my biggest pet peeve but it mostly isnt samsungs fault either. Some apps that work so well on ios are just terrible on android. It really annoys me when im scrolling and there is a stutter because the app is poorly optimised. Reddit app is just trash. instagram is half functional -> there is currently a bug on android that hasnt been fixed in ages where certain ig users cannot scroll reels normally.
Browser - The phone falls a little short. on my friends 14 pro max and on my ipad pro, browsing speeds on any browser in general (safari specifically) are STUPIDLY FAST. as fast as my gaming pc. You cannot get this on the samsung. Chrome is the fastest on this phone in my experience.
galaxy store - why am i greeted with an ad every time I open it and why is a native samsung app so stuttery in terms of loading and scrolling.
Display - resolution/sharpness is literally 500ppi. vivid mode is alright but I recommend using any debug settings tool to restore the old display settings. I prefer amoled cinema which targets dcip3. I do not like how hdr content locks brightness.
"ecosystem" - i dont really know anyone who rocks a full samsung setup but messaging to other androids is almost like imessage. quickshare is also really really impressive. windows sync apps like intel unison and phone link DO NOT replace the iphone + macbook feel like people make it seem.
Customisation - good lock lets you customise many things. Would be cool if there was an inbuilt way of editing app icons/creating shortcuts. There is also a pretty small ecosystem of good widget apps. a lot of the widget apps available on the play store have really backdated designs as if they were made for the android 5.
Build: Drop resistance is probably quite good but i cant say for scratches. you must get a case and screen protector for this phone. the curved edges are a weakpoint.
Design: i mean it looks cool af but the coloring can do better. I bought the phantom black version but it looks like a grey in certain lighting conditions. and the aluminium edge does not look black at all. could really take notes from the space black iphone 14 pro, which in my opinion sets the mark for a black colored phone.
Summary: This phone really does seem to be getting the wrap from the tech community as the phone to dethrone iphone, but at the end of the day there are always these small things from iphone that'll have my respect.
overall: 8.5/10