My FIL is such an asshole.

Context: Last 6 months I've been lifting and did an (accidental) bulk after 10 years of an on/off restricive ED. I'm now trying to lose fat in a healthy way.
I have had so many problems with him nitpicking everything I do and literally picking on me for 2 years. Everything I do.
I'm cooking? "You should make it like this". I'm cleaning? "You should clean it this way". I'm meal planning? "You don't need all that protein". I got bed ridden from an illness for about a month? "So you haven't worked out in almost a month, you're not trying. Have you seen yourself lately?".

What happened tonight: He KNOWS I have a restrictive ED history. But tonight he said "Have you seen yourself lately? You haven't been going to the gym; you don't even need all of that protein because you're not using it". Mind you, this week I JUST got back into the gym after my illness, so I've been back to meal planning again. I'm only aiming for 115g of protein now instead of my bodyweight in protein since I'm not bulking anymore...which, while it still above normal intake, is a good intake for weight loss while lifting to preserve muscle on a WOMAN.

What I've tried: I ALWAYS tell him that muscle gain and weight loss is different for WOMEN. We have a monthly cycle which preserves more water weight at times, or makes us bloat other times, or makes us ravenous/crave like a man could never imagine. It is SO much harder for us to both gain muscle and lose fat - of course I have to be meticulous and do things differently than he does. But he's a narcissist and thinks his way is the only way because he can't see outside of his own self or educate himself on other people.

YES I need all that protein.
YES I need to lift when losing fat.
YES I allow myself a treat here and there because I'm a human.
YES I need to weight my food out because it's different for women and we can't just eat whatever we want and lose weight, especially when we are SHORT (dramatic because I'm angry, I know)

I'm literally crying in my room because a grown as man bullies me when I'm finally trying to be healthy. It's almost weekly. I have until January for us to move out. His comments made me almost slip back into that unhealthy restrictive mindset but I am trying so hard to power through those thoughts and keeping my eye on the prize - the healthy prize.

Just a vent I guess more than anything.

It was after The Ledge that he really began to enjoy the grind. The hike. The Plow. The geography was both scenic and demanding. Winding trail with elevation changes, switchbacks and contrasting portions of trail with cool shade and hot sun. It was the part of the day where he readily daydreamed of aspirations gone by. He let the role playing and daydreams of his prepubescent self take over on this part of the trail. When he wanted nothing more in life than to be a soldier. Specifically a soldier in combat. Against? Well anyone would do. More often than not he simply referred in his mind to "the enemy" since that was the language used so often by the actors in all the war movies he had watched over the years. "The enemy is sly, stealthy and hell bent on victory" he said to himself. "Well the enemy did not count on me. They are sly. So am I. They dont even know I am behind them. HeHeHeHeHe." He always responded this way. You know... to his own statement. Bit of a cliche but screw it. It was HIS daydream! Today, his armed defence of hearth and home against the bastard enemy did not last very long. Maybe 1 or 1.5 kilometers. He was getting a little fatigued. Both from exertion and excess ingestion of cannabis perhaps? "More than likely" he thought. Not a good move that. Whatever. He was used to a little fatigue from these outings. Nothing to worry about. But he vowed that he had eaten the last gummy of his day and probably night.

His mind was turning to matters of a more serious, adult, visceral and frankly, relevant nature. To him anyway. He was an avowed "sufferer" of what he had heard called "Oppositional Defiance Syndrome". He took it serious motherfucker. All forms of authority are to be scrutinized, doubted and when judged to be lacking, outright defied. I mean within limits of course. Lol. But it was really no laughing matter. "Fucking canapes eating, wine spritzer drinking motherfuckers who set this system up for their primary benefit knew what the fuck they were doing" he thought. The whole ODS infrastructure of his noodle nest had to be tempered for the need of a job. He was anarchical sure. But fuck man. He saw the people who lived on the street. While he had a lot of compassion and tolerance for them, and often interacted with the more familiar ones, he did not want to join their ranks. Sooooo some fucking times, he had to play nice with his "superiors". It was maddening. To be drip fed the economic means to survive in a system he despised and, in fact, advocated against. He didnt win any popularity contests amongst peers and colleagues alike that's for sure. The whole revolutionary stance he had elaborately constructed in his mind was only viable if there was a critical mass of people willing to sacrifice the material comforts offered up piecemeal by the fucktards in charge and, this is key, that mass of people acted in concert with one another and, another key, their actions coincided with a timely and critical weakness in the armor of the goddamn system itself. "But hey. Ya never know. Amirite?" he asked. Of a toad he inadvertently chased off the trail into the leaf litter just beginning to form on the forest floor.

You see folks. You might think you know of what those benign looking forest promenaders are thinking about as they stroll merrily through the green. Chances are you dont know diddly. He still had a distaste that at one time, he would have swallowed the kool aid. He would have praised country and flag incessantly. Been a "pillar" of his fucking tasteless, colorless, valueless, and ultimately, morally vacuous, capitalist worshipping, wife swapping, prescription pill taking, lets be obedient to all people in "power" of our goddamn dog and pony show fucking society. "That was hard to get out in one thought" he thought. Today all he could really say/think about it is the two words he used to shut down any argument in which he had quickly determined that arguing further was pointless. "Fucking nope!" he bellowed. "Not ganna do it. Sorry ma. Sorry pa." he said. That program has no passion. No chutzpah. No fucking edible fueled full squad baseball games played by one imaginative stoned dude in the middle of the woods using only the fruits of one of the most common trees in his region. Annnnnddddd the free flowing capitalist, product innovative, easily available and market driven force that is TH fucking C. If that program aint got that. "It aint got me" he said. And he laughed down the trail for a full five minutes. The day was getting longer. But his high did not seem to be getting any shorter. He was loving it.

He was approaching the point at which he should probably decide on a spot to hunker down. If he continued for another 5 minutes or so he would be further down this trail than he had been before. At least this season. It was twilight. That magical time they call the "Golden Hour". Where it is neither dark nor light and was the purveyor of some of the most serene and life affirming and calming moments in a hiker's day, life, career. It was sublime. And it didnt last that long. About well...an hour. "Fucking dimwit" he croaked. "Thats maybe why they call it that?" He was able to laugh still. Good sign. Since he was still jovial and fairly reenergized he decided he would find a spot on the other side of the "Highway" and park himself somewhere he had never parked before. The highway was, in fact, simply a county road but he called it the highway for reasons unknown to even himself. He had plenty of calories left in his bag. Decent allotment of H2O left. And a couple of energy drinks. Key provision those for this kind of recreation in his humble opinion. Calories? Probably 2700 to 3200 left in his bag. The only time he gave a shit about the calories to energy expended ratio was when he was doing this kind of thing. He wanted to stop soon. And kind of freshen up. He had sweat, dried, sweat again, dried again probably a full 3 or 4 cycles today. Lots of water. No pee. Pure sweat as moisture purge and temperature control. He probably smelled bad. Like a dumpster diver? No probably not. Not like garbage. "Probably smell like a line cook with a checkered past" he thought silently. That one hit home. He smiled nonetheless. For he had cooked his way through school. And continued to cook after graduation and the addition of those initials at the tail end of his illustrious name. LOL. It was fun. Cooking. The people were crazy. Characters all. He fit right in. And learning to cook. Actually cook. Well it had rewards he had not expected when he took his first job to make ends meet as a starving post secondary student. "Line cook with a checkered past" he repeated to himself. Thats a good one. For yes indeed it checked out. "Probably smell like Wile E Coyote in heat on a bender trying to find the best way to enter Mexico illegally and snag that fucking arrogant but admittedly cerebrally gifted roaddrunner once and for fucking all" he thought. And with that he laughed loud and long. He did not know how ironic and pretty much unfunny that little joke was going to be in a couple of hours. He didnt know a lot of things he thought he did that night. But he didnt know that then. At that moment. All he thought at that moment was that, sometimes, he was a pretty funny motherfucker. And yes, he currently smelled pretty bad.

I'd come from school. I was standing on the sidewalk opposite our vinyl sided house. A big car was in our driveway. It was a Cadillac, the colour of cream. I didn't know who it belonged to. Who does it belong to, I wondered.

It was a hot, still day.

I felt the warm concrete sidewalk slabs through my sneakers’ worn soles. No birds chirped. The sky was cloudless.

I thought I could hear the sun buzzing like an old appliance.

I walked slowly towards the car.

Its windows were darkened. I put my hands on the driver's window and my face against my hands. I looked inside.

A man was inside.

He was reclined on the leather driver's seat.

The seat was red.

The whole inside of the car was red.

The man’s face was pale. His hair was grey. His hands were thick with veins. His eyes were closed. He looked dead. He was breathing, but his eyes were closed and he looked dead.

He opened his eyes.

He didn't look more alive with open eyes than he had with closed eyes, and I leapt backwards away from the car and screamed.

I hadn't screamed.

I stood.

A cloud had passed between me and the sun.

My throat was dry.

I tasted blood.

I saw dark blood running down the sides of the Cadillac's windows. The car was filled with blood. I was blood. It covered the man. I covered the man. He was rising through us. I was listening to the roar of a distant lawnmower. I stood silent, looking through the car's tinted window at the man, whose eyes were closed. He was sleeping. The grass was green. The lawn was neat. I walked inside the house.

My mother was in the kitchen.

She was drinking tea.

Her hands were shaking. The bottom of her teacup was clattering against the saucer she was holding in her other hand.

“There's a man,” I said, “in a car in the driveway.”

My mother opened her mouth to speak.

My father walked in.

My mother closed her mouth.

“That man is your uncle Larkin,” my father said, and my mother looked away. My father looked down at the floor. Ants were walking single file along the grout between the tiles.

I didn’t know either of my parents had a sibling.

“Will he—” I asked.

“No,” my mother said. “He won't come in,” said my father.

My mother set her empty cup and saucer on the kitchen counter, by the sink. The faucet reflected the sunlight. Blood dripped from it. I imagined blood dripping from the faucet into the kitchen sink. My mother's empty cup was full of blood. “I asked if I could play with my friends after I finish my homework,” I said.

“Asked whom?”

I hadn't meant to say it like that.

I felt warmth and shame. I had peed myself. The ants were still walking along the floor. “It's best you do not go out today,” my father said.

I showered.

I put on dry clothes.

My mother had finished mopping the floor when I came downstairs again. We ate dinner. We drank cranberry juice. I watched my parents scrape the meat off chicken bones with their teeth.

My parents drank red wine.

I drank milk.

I wondered if we would bring anything outside for my uncle Larkin, but nobody did. Even the dogs were inside. Even though it wasn't raining.

The sun went down.

I watched the Cadillac in the driveway from my upstairs bedroom window.

I watched it instead of going to sleep.

I couldn't sleep.

I had a fear of being dreamed.

I had a fear that if I slept something might wring me in its dream as if I was a rag used to clean blood from somewhere after a crime so I sat in my bedroom with the lights off looking at the Cadillac in the driveway from my upstairs bedroom window instead of going to sleep until the driver's side door opened and from my bedroom window I saw the driver's side door open.

The driver's side door opened.

It was one in the morning.

The car door opened, and Uncle Larkin stepped out into the moonlight. He moved like tree branches. The veins on his hands were golden. His hair looked like thick grey wires. He parted his lips and ate the moonlight, then walked away down the dimmed street.

The hour felt raw.

He was gone, but I kept watching.

The car was still as a coffin.

The points of starlight in the sky stretched into shimmering lines of spiderweb…

He returned before dawn, holding a small child by the hand.

I couldn't tell if the child was a boy or girl.

The child was younger than me.

They walked up the driveway to the car. He opened the back door.

I saw the long red leather back seat. He helped the child inside. He got in too. Then he shut the door. The car, the moonlight and everything was as it had been before.

There was stillness.

It was dawn.

The stillness was fake like plastic plants.

I was in my bedroom with the curtains closed and a pain in my stomach that felt like knots of jealousy, screaming and disgust.

In the morning, the car was gone. I brushed my teeth until my gums hurt. My mother was making breakfast. It was eggs and bacon. I watched the bacon sizzle in its own melted fat.

I wasn't hungry.

I ate.

Two police officers came by that afternoon.

They were very friendly.

They were asking my parents if they had seen anything unusual last night. I wanted to leave, but my father caught my hand. “What about you?” one of the officers asked. “You're old enough to answer for yourself. Aren't you, son?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I didn't see anything.”

My mother petted my hair.

“Good boy,” he said, and I felt myself of innocent blood.

“Oh honey, you meant to get the pie. You know I made it from my grandmother's recipe. It's like a hundred years old. I mean, I know I asked you to get the cake for the kids. 

But no. I need you to try the pie. Go back and grab a slice. 

Hello Aunt Carol! It's so good to see you. Yes, thank you. I did put this all together for cousin Sarah and Grandma Cindy. I know, I can't believe she's already turning one hundred and six as well. It's wonderful. And Sarah turning six, thank god we have at least two birthdays on the same day.

Do you remember when it was mom's anniversary, too? Oh, it was wonderful when Daddy used to pay for everything.  

You know, of course, Harry paid for it this year. I know it's not as good, but what do you think? I'm gonna let Harry decide how to use all of those paychecks himself? He doesn't need to start thinking he has a choice in these matters. I don't care whose name is on them, as far as this family goes, those checks are mine…” 

I looked across the alley behind the apartment I had bought Jennifer. I had to move my car out of the way for her whole big Italian family to fit back here. They're good people, blue collar. I doubt they see me as one of them.

It's nothing personal, they just can't seem to understand how I write short fiction all day and make enough to provide for one of their own. 

I understand their skepticism as well. I don't even follow any of the local sports teams. Yes, that includes the Eagles as well. I mean, no offense, but God forbid I don't write about a sports team the mayor can't spell the name of.

Either way, though, I bought into Jennifer's life and everything that came with it when I asked her to marry me. Sure, that came with a family who may not have graduated from community college. But at the same time, I always wanted a family like hers. That tight-knit group of people who really look out for each other. Besides, it's not like I'm anywhere near a perfect guy. And ever since the last of my family passed, Jennifer has been my home.

The longer I sat there on that plastic folding chair, the clearer it became: as far as Jennifer was concerned, I could just as well have been an ATM.

I looked at the card table surrounded by a swarm of pink Barbie princess outfits. They were jumping up and down like an infestation of pink piglets, squealing in that universal sound of children cheering when they get to have sweets they don't need. 

A candle was still smoking on top of the cake I picked up at Acme. It was mostly gone at this point other than two slices left. Next to them, the pie sat there untouched.

My fiancé's mom had cut out pieces to pass around to everyone. I didn't know if she meant to give me the piece of cake when I went up there. I thought I had the choice of cake or pie. But she was a little preoccupied with her ex-husband on speakerphone. 

I guess Jennifer picked up that angry streak from her mom, because damn do they sound exactly alike whenever they yell. 

“Go back and grab the pie I made for the party…” 

I looked down at the slice of cake on my paper plate, covering the picture of some pink cartoon and a white plastic fork stuck into the cake like someone claimed it as territory. 

Jennifer's grandmother was sitting next to us in her wheelchair wearing a tiara, and a Depends which should've been changed about an hour ago, while drool was sliding out of her mouth. 

I looked up at her and said, “Grandma Cindy, would you like some cake?”

She focused those drooping eyes of hers straight at me and said,

“I want to die.”

She then reached her shaking hand over to me and gripped my arm with a strength I don't think anyone would have guessed was still in her.

“What?” I asked.

Jennifer nudged me, “She said, Go get her the pie like I've been telling you! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I don't know how many times I have to tell you. Harry, the cake was for the children. I wanted you to have the pie I made with Grandma Cindy's recipe. You are completely ruining this entire party I put on, and all you've been good for is buying a cake…” 

I looked back at Jennifer's mom, still on the phone, held between her shoulder and ear, shouting, 

“And my daughter made this pie for you. But you can't even show up to what is probably going to be my own mother's last birthday on this earth, all because you're too busy buying whores to show off down the shore in front of all of your little boyfriends, and shoving those poor girls’ asses in everybody's face because you think you bought them for the night it makes them your property or some…” 

At the same time, Jennifer was yelling at me and talking to everyone else at the party about the one hundred year old pie recipe from her grandmother sitting next to us. 

I wanted cake. I didn't know I was going to end up with pie. But to be honest, I think I'm with Grandma Cindy on this one. 

I once worked with an orthopedic surgeon who told me about one of the strangest nights he had ever experienced in the ER.

One night, a group of people came in off the street carrying a severed arm. They said they had found a wrecked car and the arm at the scene, so they had brought it to the hospital.
The strange part? Nobody had come into the ER with a missing arm.
The staff on duty found the whole thing rather bizarre, but they kept the arm in case its owner turned up.

The rest of the night was surprisingly quiet. Hours passed, and there was still no sign of anyone looking for the missing limb.
Then, at around 6 a.m., two heavily intoxicated people with substance use problems showed up at the ER. One of them was missing an arm.
Apparently, they had been in a car accident during the night but had simply walked away from the wreck. Instead of going to the hospital, they had continued on to a party.
And somehow, nobody at the party had noticed that one of them was missing an entire arm.
The group eventually decided to head out into town. It wasn’t until they arrived at a bar that opens early in the morning that the bartender noticed something was seriously wrong and asked what had happened.

That’s when the group finally contacted the hospital.

The arm had been separated from its owner for approximately six hours before the patient arrived at the ER.

According to the surgeon, the doctors on duty believed that the patient’s extreme intoxication, combined with how clean and rapid the traumatic amputation had been, had contributed to him surviving the initial injury.
I still find the whole story absolutely unbelievable.
Imagine being the person who found a severed arm, casually dropping it off at the ER, and going on with your night — only for the owner to turn up six hours later, after a party and a stop at a morning bar.
And imagine being the hospital staff, keeping a random severed arm in the back, just waiting for someone to come claim it.

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Earth Station

From: Jeremy Campbell

To our crew,

Send these messages to my family when possible. Send me theirs when you can. Any message is welcome out here. Wish me good luck. I trust you guys.

With hope,

Jeremy

*Message Reconstruction Initiated*

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Amber

From: Jeremy Campbell

Amber,

My daughter. My everything.

I know today is your first day on Earth. I know you’re in your mother’s arms at the hospital, surrounded by everyone who loves you—crying as you try to make sense of everything around you.

The light, the sound, the touch—you'll discover it all as time goes by. But don’t worry: Mom, Grandpa, Grandma, and so many others will be there for you.

The mission is unfolding according to plan, and before you know it, I’ll be back with you, your brother, and your mother.

Everything here is colder, darker, and less friendly than on Earth. Forgive me for not being there to hold you. I wish I could give you and your mom a kiss. My two little warriors.

Someday you’ll understand the reason for my absence. Remember that everything I measure out here leads back to you. I miss a person I haven’t met yet—and somehow that’s enough to keep me moving forward.

I love you deeply, my princess.

*P.S. Anne, give our daughter a kiss from me.*

Dispatch Time: 28 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Anne

From: Jeremy Campbell

Anne,

Congratulations to the love of my life, the mother of my children, and the person who keeps me grounded. You probably feel like I’m impossibly far away, but I am with you—I know you carry me with you. The house won’t be quiet anymore; now you have our little Amber to brighten your days.

Our long-held wish is finally coming true, and I ask your forgiveness for not being there in person to tell you how proud I am of you. I don’t know when or under what circumstances this letter will reach you.

The instructions haven’t changed. My expected arrival back home is still in 200 days. The days here move quickly. We are running out of ways to be wrong, and I will make it back to you.

With love,

Jeremy

*P.S. Don't forget to turn on the porch light.*

Dispatch Time: 30 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Alex

From: Jeremy Campbell

Alex,

I wish I could be there to tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve become a big brother, and your world is changing. Watching you grow up has been the greatest privilege for your mom and me.

I know with complete confidence that you’re going to be a great man. I haven't forgotten my promise: I’ll take you all to Disney World as soon as my boots touch Earth again.

Take care of your sister, your mom, and the family while I’m away. You’re incredibly brave, Alex. I wouldn’t be out here if it weren’t for you. Space is vast, and our planet looks so small from here.

I can’t stop thinking about what you’re doing right now. I’ll be home sooner than you think. Give me some ideas for my catchphrase when I get back.

I love you,

Dad

Dispatch Time: 33 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Earth Station

From: Jeremy Campbell

To the crew,

Greetings from closest orbit. I’ve calculated every probability for our approach trajectory. The numbers hold up. Our momentum is ideal, and resources remain sufficient for the long haul.

We believe the anomaly has emitted a radio signal heavily distorted by local magnetic interference, but the pulse rhythm remains constant.

The Big Freeze event is estimated to reach local threshold in 234 days. Deploying Hawking-radiators now to counteract thermal decay. That leaves us ample time to deploy our sensors and prevent complete local freeze-out.

Stars and black holes continue to vanish from the deep survey grid. Among our routine findings: the Earth is definitely round (that’s for you, Jeff), and we are tracking the cursor carefully.

Tell Arthur the robot he asked for says hi.

With hope,

Jeremy

Dispatch Time: 35 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Gerald Campbell

From: Jeremy Campbell

Gerald,

Understanding the meaning of this journey has been less strange than understanding our history together. You may or may not read this message, but I wanted to write to you anyway.

When I found out I’d been chosen for this mission, the first thing that flooded my mind was Mom—trying to explain to her everything I was leaving behind and how hard it would be for her to process. Just as hard as it was for you.

It’s surreal that a kid from Ohio made it to this point in history. Ever since I was little, I knew you worried when I talked about space. I dreamed of where I am today without knowing what I’d lose along the way.

I don’t know where souls go after this life. I don’t know if all those years we sat in church truly explain the force that created every atom in this universe. But I hold onto the faith humanity shares. The faith you carried for us.

Tell Mom I’m still exploring. I love you, brother. I’m sorry for Dad’s passing.

With love,

Jeremy

Dispatch Time: 38 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Jeremy Campbell

From: Anne

To my husband,

It’s been more than six months since you left. We read all your messages. There are nights I reread them just to remember what your voice sounds like.

Amber is growing so fast. My parents say she looks just like you—the way she furrows her brow, her little mannerisms. Alex has been doing better since you left, though the farther away you get, the longer these signals take to arrive.

Every morning I wonder where you are right now, and what kind of vast mystery you're facing out there. I know you’ll figure it out and come home.

Attached is your daughter's heartbeat audio file, just as you requested.

Plaintext
TIME→     00:00        00:05        00:10        00:15        00:20
20k ┤                ║        ║                    ║
│                ║        ║                    ║
15k ┤      ║║║║      ║        ║      ║║║║║║        ║
│      ║  ║      ║        ║      ║    ║        ║
10k ┤      ║  ║  ║║║║║║       ║      ║    ║   ║║║║║║
│      ║  ║  ║    ║       ║      ║    ║   ║    ║
 5k ┤  ║║║║║  ║  ║    ║  ║║║║║║      ║    ║   ║    ║
│  ║    ║ ║  ║    ║  ║    ║      ║    ║   ║    ║
 1k ┤  ║    ║ ║  ║    ║  ║    ║  ║║║║║    ║   ║    ║
│  ║    ║ ║  ║    ║  ║    ║  ║    ║   ║   ║    ║
100 ┤__║____║_║__║____║__║____║__║____║___║___║____║__
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~    ----       \~\~\~\~\~\~    ////    ████

With all my love,

Anne

Dispatch Time: 50 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Earth Station

From: Jeremy Campbell

To the team,

I am entering orbital lock with the non-terrestrial craft. Communication is degraded, and telemetry indicates they are preparing to shift vector. I hope to intercept before they jump.

Impact from the localized entropic wave gives us 167 days. I’ve isolated micro-debris from the craft's wake and cultured a trace sample. Material loss is manageable, but signal latency is degrading rapidly.

The further I push into this corridor, the harder transmission will be. It will cost me Earth-time and rations.

Wish me luck. In a few days, you’ll know if we reached the target to deploy the protocol. Before it’s too late.

With hope,

Jeremy

Dispatch Time: 62 days

\[WARNING: Estimated Delay Correction Failed\]

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Dr. Lawrence

From: Jeremy Campbell

Lawrence,

My old friend—I hope this reaches you. I need your mind on a dilemma.

As I venture deeper, the signal sent by our universal language array is being reflected. The system transmitted our prerecorded greeting, but it produces zero response from their core.

Instead, a distinct mathematical pattern repeats through the hull—pulses emitted at precise wave-intervals. I placed a soil sample on the resonance plate to observe the cymatics: it forms identical geometric standing waves.

I’m attaching the audio spectrum data. Take a look and tell me what I’m missing.

With hope,

Jeremy

*P.S. Are you still feeding Frodo? I left cash for kibble on the counter.*

Dispatch Time: 81 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Jeremy Campbell

From: Gerald Campbell

Jeremy,

You know writing isn't my strength, but I hope this gets through. We’ve been asking Command for updates, but no one can give us clear answers about your coordinates.

Mom passed away yesterday afternoon. I made sure she was buried right beside Dad. She wrote a note for you in her journal before she went:

*"Son, I love you. I know I didn’t say it enough, but I’ve loved you since the second you were born. I always knew you were a different kind of kid—while others talked, you quietly explored. It was in your blood. I wanted you to have a normal life, but curiosity carried you somewhere beyond this world. I am so proud of you. Forgive me for my shortcomings. Please come home to your family."*

I hope you get to read this, brother.

Save the world.

Gerald

Dispatch Time: 92 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Jeremy Campbell

From: Alex

Dad,

This is Amber’s first drawing. Today was her second birthday, and we took her to Sesame Street. She keeps saying your name over and over. She recognizes your face in photos now.

I’ve been teaching her to read. Mom says curiosity is more important than raw knowledge—she wants Amber to feed her imagination before she gets locked in a classroom.

Two years left until college for me. I’ve decided: I want to study theoretical physics. Maybe I can build something that brings you back faster.

We miss you so much. Come home soon.

Alex

Dispatch Time: 108 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Amber

From: Jeremy Campbell

Amber,

The primary radiators failed this morning. The telemetry models aren't matching up, and the distance is widening faster than our drives can compensate. I tried recalculating the return vector three times... the math doesn't close.

I may not make it back to hold you.

Your father loves you more than anything in this universe. I am so sorry.

Your dad

Dispatch Time: 120 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Jeremy Campbell

From: Dr. Lawrence

Jeremy,

I analyzed your cymatic audio files. The noise isn't structural distortion or an artificial language—it's a biological frequency.

The frequency matches a human cardiac cycle.

The universe isn't collapsing randomly; vacuum entropy is expanding because the local background frequency has lost synchronization. The signal you're hearing isn't an alien language trying to talk to us—it's a empty receiver waiting for a rhythmic template to lock onto.

The expansion can be halted, Jeremy. But it requires a stable, living biological waveform introduced directly into the wave hub to act as a anchor for the continuum.

Complete the mission and come home.

Lawrence

Dispatch Time: 138 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Earth Station

From: Jeremy Campbell

To the crew,

\[ERROR 404: TRANSMISSION CORRUPTED\]

The signal telemetry is \[STATIC\] too dense to buffer.

Tell Command... \[SIGNAL LOST\]

Gather every byte of telemetry from this array—this is my final mission transmission.

Help my family.

With hope,

Jeremy

*P.S. Tell my kids I miss them.*

Dispatch Time: 147 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Alex

From: Jeremy Campbell

Alex,

By the time this packet reaches Earth, you’ll be a man. Someone who has to make his own decisions, someone the world will rely on. You are going to do extraordinary things—things I couldn't even imagine.

When you choose what to study, who to love, and how to live: trust yourself. You carry the very best of your mother and me.

If you ever feel lost, look up at the night sky. I’ll be there, woven somewhere into the light between stars. I’ve found a way to preserve our universe—to give you, Amber, and your mother a future.

Keep our family safe. I trust you completely.

I love you, son.

Dad

Dispatch Time: 169 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |

To: Anne

From: Jeremy Campbell

Anne,

By the time you open this, the sky will look different.

The signal isn't something I’m receiving anymore. It answers before I speak. I tried to model it, replicate it, translate it... but I was looking at it like an engineer instead of a husband.

It isn’t code, Anne. It’s rhythm.

I heard it in the audio file you sent me of Amber’s heartbeat.

I heard it in the quiet spaces between our transmissions.

The wave hub has been waiting for an echoing pulse for longer than humanity has existed. Every beat of my heart has been in sync with yours since the day we met. It was never a coincidence—it was destiny, or God, or whatever holds this fragile universe together.

It is incredible what we are given in this life, and how briefly we are allowed to hold it.

Now it’s your time to live, to raise our children, and to smile under clear skies. If the universe needs a human heartbeat to keep from falling into darkness, mine is ready.

It always was.

With all my heart,

Jeremy

*P.S. Tell Alex I’ve made up my mind:*

*Leave the porch light off—today, the stars will shine brighter.*

*And for you, Anne: You were the reason there was light.*

*LOG ENDS*

\[SYSTEM STATUS: CRITICAL ENTROPY\]

\[INITIATING MANUAL CORE SYNCHRONIZATION\]

Dispatch Time: 200 days

Mainframe Alpha,

| Message from Unit 764 |
| System Log |

_ Signal Status: STABLE _

_ Entropy Expansion: HALTED _

_ Source: Biological Waveform Anchor (Unit 764) _

_ Synchronization: 100% COMPLETE _

*No further transmissions queued.*

.

I (26F) and my fiancé "Mark" (28M) have been together for four years. His mother, "Eleanor," has always been the pillar of the community. She’s the woman who organizes charity galas, dresses impeccably, and runs a flawless household. When we got engaged, she generously offered to pay for half of our dream wedding at a luxury estate. I was over the moon.

However, three weeks ago, Eleanor called an emergency family meeting. With tears in her eyes, she told us they hit "unexpected financial hardships" and had to withdraw the money. She even aggressively pressured us to cancel the whole thing and just host a small backyard BBQ instead. Mark was devastated, and I was deeply confused because his dad is a highly successful surgeon—a sudden financial collapse made absolutely no sense.

Yesterday, I found out the truth, and it is crazier than anything I could have ever imagined.

I work in administration at a private medical clinic in a neighboring city that handles elective surgeries and DNA diagnostics. A coworker from the front desk called me over and whispered, "Look, I know this is your future mother-in-law, but she accidentally listed your work number as an alternative contact on her file. I think you need to see this."

Eleanor’s "financial problems" weren't financial at all. It turns out that two months ago, she secretly ordered a DNA paternity test for Mark and his younger brother. The results came back exactly three weeks ago—the very day she canceled our wedding.

Mark is not the biological son of the man he has called "Dad" his entire life.

Eleanor has been hiding this secret for nearly three decades. When she realized the clinic also sends hard copies of the results via certified mail (meaning her husband could potentially open the envelope first), she panicked. She canceled our wedding funding to scramble for cash to pay a private attorney and a mail-interception service, trying to figure out a legal safety net before the truth blows up. She needed to hide the massive expenses from their joint bank account.

Right now, Mark is asleep next to me, completely oblivious to the fact that his entire life is a lie. If I tell him, I will single-handedly blow up his family. If I keep quiet, I am starting our marriage on a massive deception, while his mother continues to play the victim who "just ran out of money."

What do I do? Do I spill the tea to Mark, or do I protect the family secret?

In the dead of night. When fog prepares for morning. Trees hang their branches low. No one is there to see the miracle of light. No one shall be the one who knows the sensation of boredom under a tree. The one person who thinks about yesterday when tomorrow already hunts them. Boredom envelops the tree, where secrets lie in the air. Forgotten, written in words that were spoken. The fog rises, mixes the secrets into one. Just to spit them out.

A tornado.

A word stings and bleeds. A wound that can't be healed. Ask time, ask if it knows. The sensation of boredom. I'm sure time knows. Where light lingers just enough for us to notice. The fog rules over the air and coldness. And when the world asks, tell them only the fog and I will know.

Silence.

A whisper is not silence. A whisper is the movement of fog, which we mistake for a promise. And when the birds die, they will no longer sing to overthrow the fog. Boredom is the sensation of light striking through fog.

Some would call it the light at the end of the tunnel.

When time and I know that it's just the hope we get so we don't think to think. So we don't decide for fog, for light. I want to hope time forgets too. I hope we can change the direction of the world now. I want to learn how to think before time and the sun blink us away.

Hear the birds sing? In the faraway trees? Enjoy the sensation of melodies coming through. Before the fog takes them. Before light turns the notes into ash. And after you hear them, yell back at them. So they know to flee before they fall.

The fog rises; be prepared for the morning to come.

The fog rises; it rules every early light.

Just to slowly fade into the air.

And let light take over.

I kiss the fog goodbye,

wish the light luck.

And then the sun loses to fog.

At the end, in the dead of night, the fog rises.

Boredom and time forget why they were under the tree.

Hear the whispers?

Run.

Between Love and Attachment

A friend once asked me, “What is the difference between love and attachment?”

Love is something gentle, something soft. A laugh, a smile, the feeling of a tremble inside your chest, a beautiful kind of nervousness, a gentle rise in temperature, as if you were breathing in fresh air.

Love is the sweetness of beginnings and an ending that leaves behind a beautiful taste. A feeling that is constant yet ever-renewing, flowing and light. It is calm when you are close, yet wild and intensely pleasurable when you are apart.

That is love.

As for attachment, it is storms and raging seas, crying and laughing, tears and joy, the trembling of a heart and its breaking, sadness, exhaustion, happiness, and longing.

You never know where all those bumps in the road come from, or how so many emotions can gather inside a single heart. And yet, through it all, you are content. You hold on to this choice.

Attachment.

Sara Cal 🥀✏️

31M and my wife 33F
Married for three years, very minimal physical contact(once in 3-4 months)
I started watching online porn and chat with online girls(telegram - Philippines) to satisfy myself.
We had a baby , she found out that i have been doing this online things.
I apologized and begged to her for that
She hit me multiple times and threatened me (destroying my career and image in society)
She decided to leave me
luckily i got saved from a thing which i thought of doing it considering it as an end
Few weeks later she started distancing me and my daughter and she then accused me that i am a pervert and she cant let the baby (2 month old )near me
I lost myself in that accusation , i never did something bad to my baby
We got separated and i sought therapy
Now we re seeking divorce
I scared to even look at my baby

Rupert was one of the laziest people known to man. This was a fact that he was either too aware of or too ignorant of, because in the 29 years and 11 months anyone had known him, he never changed and never wanted to change. He was content to do as little with his life as he could, and he was proud of it.

Rupert, without a hint of humor or irony, decided his 30th birthday would also be his retirement party. Retirement from any work whatsoever. His plan, in his words, was to “not have to worry about the usual 9-to-5 lifestyle, seek out options, settle down.” Their father, in his late 60s and still working, scoffed.
“Your whole goddamn life has been settling down. What do you think part 2 has to offer? Honestly, Rupert, when are you going to cut the crap?” After hearing that, Dad was uninvited to the birthday party.

In reality, Rupert didn’t have a 9-to-5 lifestyle. It was more of a 10-to-4 lifestyle. None of his jobs ever lasted more than 2 years, provided he chose to go to work at all. See, Rupert suffered from the three Nesses. Laziness, tardiness, deceitfulness. He would often show up late, take an ungodly amount of time in the bathroom, and add 10 minutes to the start and end of his lunch hour, and those were just his greatest hits. His favorite ways of getting out of work made use of his cat-like reflexes and his ninja-style ability to sneak out of something he dreaded doing.
These were just jobs that he got fired from.

The truth is it wasn’t always entirely his fault. You see, his job life was incredibly unlucky. His first job was at a video rental… before it closed down; his second job, an all-you-can-eat buffet, which also closed down. Photography film store, phased out. Bathroom attendant, replaced by a robot. Professional circus freak, no longer exists.
He was so unlucky with employment that he saw it as a sign from God that 30 years old was time enough to spend golfing and enjoying his “twilight years.”

His only viable source of income was sports betting, something he did modestly well in, but not enough to stay afloat as he foolishly idealized. Even the house he lived in was bought and paid for by his parents on his 21st. They foolishly thought that if they got him a house, it would give him enough independence where he could get a career going without the stress of paying rent and causing him to move back in with them. 9 years later, it had the opposite effect. While he didn’t move back in with his parents, he never really garnered a so-called career to speak of; the job he was currently quitting had been paying him high school teenager rates since he started there. So he wanted to retire from all that and, after all those tiny wins on the bets, he finally decided to spend it on his party.

Gerald was a people-pleaser. Gerald had no problems getting up and commuting, helping his fellow man, bending over backwards to get everything he felt like he’d earned in life. He had a job, a girlfriend, a car, his own house, everything he ever wanted, thanks to good old-fashioned hard work. His only flaw was that he was Rupert’s brother, and Rupert was about to turn 30. Gerald didn’t resent Rupert for his laid-back way of life; in fact, it was almost nonexistent in the eyes of Gerald. See, Gerald spent his whole life pleasing their parents, pleasing his bosses, pleasing everyone; he couldn’t possibly object to anything Rupert asked for. Could he? Not sweet Rupert. Sweet, stupid Rupert.
So when his brother’s birthday came up, Gerald had to get him the perfect present.

“Are your eyes still closed?” Gerald beamed as he nudged his brother through the front doorway of Rupert’s house.
“Yes. Of course.” Rupert replied with his hands covering his eyes.
Gerald continued to shepherd Rupert over to the corner left side of his already gigantic porch. Next to the doorway was a huge thing covered in a sheet.
“Ok open them!” Gerald instructed. As Rupert took his hands away, Gerald pulled the sheet off it. It was an old antique rocking chair; nothing like any rocking chair that Rupert had seen before. The wood resembled bone appendages; its color was somewhere between cream and brown, and there was a cushion with little sloths patterned all over it, which added a shred of comfortability to an already tough sell.
“Oh my god! Gerald, I love this!” Rupert cried. “See, you understand what I was talking about. You get this whole thing I’m going for.”
“I got it from some antique store,” Gerald replied. “The second I saw it, I knew it was very… you.”
“Why, I can face it into the street. Watch people walking past! My own personal theater of live performance.”
“You do like to people-watch.” Gerald stated. Rupert approached it and looked underneath.
“It says Belphegor.” He examined. “I wonder what that means.”
“It’s probably one of those wacky names they give it.” Gerald surmised. “Like that Wayfair company with all those human names.”
Rupert was about to sit on it.
“Do you know anything about who owned it before me?”
“Yeah, the guy before you died in it… apparently.” Gerald laughed. Rupert immediately changed his mind and stood back up.
“Oh god. You did… clean it down before you brought it here, right?”
“…Sure.” Gerald lied.
“I don’t know, I still feel weird about it. Do you know if it was a valued… personal item in the family?”
“They said that the guy never had a joyous moment while he was in that chair.” Gerald stated rather bluntly. Rupert looked it up and down.
“Ah, screw it. It’s mine now. Hey Ron! Come outside and look what Gerald got me! In fact! Let’s bring the cake out here.”

After an hour Rupert finally sat on his present. Everyone followed him out onto the porch and sang happy birthday, including their mother, who was the most ecstatic.
As far as Rupert was concerned, this was the greatest gift he’d ever received.

The next day, Gerald got a rather strange call from his brother.
“Gerald! It’s Rupert… your brother.”
“Oh hey, Rupert. How’d you go with cleaning up last night?”
“Yeah. Yeah good. Listen, man, you’re gonna need to come over. I have a bit of an emergency.”
“Emergency? What is it? Did you lock yourself out of your house again?” Gerald laughed. Silence on the other end.
“Yeah… It’s probably best that you come over. I can’t explain over the phone. And if I could, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

When he got there, he saw Rupert sitting in the rocking chair with a very sour look on his face.
“I see you’re really utilizing that thing, huh?” He laughed. Rupert didn’t seem to share that sentiment. In fact, Rupert looked very afraid.
“It’s the strangest thing!” He stated. “I can’t seem to get out of this chair. I haven’t been able to since yesterday.”
Gerald cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when I sat in it yesterday, for the cake, I just couldn’t get back up. Of course, I thought it might’ve been because I had too many drinks, so I sent everyone home thinking I had dead legs. But now… I don’t know what it is.”
“You’ve been in this chair the whole night?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I haven’t been able to get out of it. It feels like there’s some… thing holding me down and preventing me from getting up. Luckily, I had my phone on me. It was on like 2%, so I called you as soon as I could.”
“Ok, umm… just calm down and we’ll get you out of it… somehow.”
Gerald and Rupert then spent the next 20 minutes looking at Rupert’s predicament as if they were trying to lift a couch through a very narrow doorway. Gerald then attempted to lift Rupert out of this infernal prison.
“Wait, stop. You’re bending my spine. Wait… ARRRHGGGH!!!” Rupert screamed.
“What? What do you want me to do?”
“Just… let me go for a second! Let me go,” Rupert cried. Gerald released him from his grip. “There’s got to be an easy way of doing this.”
“Should I get the saw?”
“And accidentally cut my leg? What are you, out of your mind?”
“I don’t know. I…” Gerald trailed off.
“Just get the saw. Get the saw and maybe like a drill or something. Some kind of drill.”
Gerald then sawed his way into the chair. The saw wouldn’t cut through it. He tried the drill; it short-circuited and broke down. He tried the saw again, but the tool just broke apart under its own force.
“I don’t understand. How is this possible?” Gerald pondered.
“I think right now we need to abandon the question of why this is happening, and focus more on how I get out of it.”

Eventually, every single emergency service was called to Rupert’s house. While the police and firefighters needed a little convincing to get over there (Gerald tried to fight through the obvious laughter coming from the other side), the ambulance people were the only ones who took it seriously. Eventually, they all showed up not because they wanted to help Rupert with his problem, but more out of curiosity. They wanted to see this thing for themselves. The firefighters brought out their very sharp axe, causing Rupert to squirm in his seat over fear that one wrong swing and he could very well lose his manhood. After the axe didn’t take, the police tried ‘shooting’ him out, which also didn’t work for obvious reasons.
“Well, it’s certainly not physical.” An onlooking doctor explained. He was looking at the chair as if it were a rare ancient artifact. “He hasn’t fused here; he certainly hasn’t been nailed. In fact, by all accounts there should be no physical reason that he should be confined to this chair.”
“So what is it?” Gerald asked.
“I’m really not sure. Was it something you ate, Rupert? What have you been eating in the last 24 hours?”
“Party food.” Rupert replied bluntly. He was already fed up with his newfound affliction and Gerald could tell.
“What kind of party food. Any drugs?”
“Just party food.”
“Huh.” The doctor stood up.
“What ‘huh’? What are you saying, Doc?”
“I might need to run a few more tests. You mind if I take a saliva and a blood sample from you?”
“Sure, but if you want a urine sample, everyone will need to turn around.” Rupert said, followed by laughter from the crowd.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday. In fact, I could go for something right now. Anyone want any pizza?”
Suddenly fifteen hands went up.
“Figures. If I’m going to be subjected to humiliation, I might as well be paying for it. Say, Gerald.”
“Yes, Rupert?” Gerald replied, leaning down by his side.
“Be a dear and order about six pizzas. One of everything.”
“Are you sure you can afford that, brother?”
“Yeah, for sure. While I was waiting for you, I bet on the Scavengers game.”
“Scavengers? They haven’t won a game all season.”
“I know. But something in me told me to bet on them. And since the last time I checked, they were up 15 points!”
A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Half a dozen people then checked their phones.
“He’s right!” One of the cops claimed. More murmurs.
“The odds on that must’ve been through the roof.” Another said.
“I stand to win two grand. So yeah, Gerald, if you can get that and some garlic bread. Garlic bread, anybody? Yeah, garlic bread, ok.”
Gerald, feeling like he should’ve been doing more, just nodded and got up.
“Sure, brother. I’ll get right onto it.”
“Love you,” Rupert replied flatly.

Later, after the show was over and everyone went home, Gerald brought a few things out for Rupert onto the porch. A side table, a six-pack of beers, a pack of smokes, and a phone charger plugged into an extension cord that led into the house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the house?” Gerald asked, handing him a beer. “I don’t know if I like you being out here all night.”
“I was out here last night and was fine,” Rupert smirked. “Besides, it’s still warm out; I think it would be relaxing. I mean it’s not every day where you can just… not do anything, and get away with it.”
“Well, some people don’t have that luxury.” Gerald shrugged.
“Also, I need to write a grocery list of things I need you to get tomorrow.”
“You think you’ll still be here tomorrow?”
“I was this morning. Why wouldn’t I be again?”

Rupert was there the next day, and the day after that and the day after that. Eventually his parents came by. His mother said she was heartbroken that “My Rupert is in such a horrible state.” His father just laughed his ass off, saying it served him right.

Later that week, Gerald went over to Rupert’s with his groceries.
Doctor Johnson, the guy who ran his tests the other day, was there with him.
“Ahh, Gerald, right on time.” Rupert sang.
“I was just talking to the good doctor about this whole… what-have-you. He told me that ‘you might want to sit down for this ’; I was ready to smack him.”
“It’s the strangest thing.” Doctor Johnson shrugged. “His blood work came back fine. He doesn’t appear to have anything broken or dislocated. And he hasn’t been through any traumatic events recently.”
“Other than turning 30.” Rupert joked.
“You think this is all in his mind?” Gerald asked.
“That was my first guess, yes. See, there are certain types of catatonia from trauma. Some people are completely paralyzed; some people only get it from the waist down.”
“Doctor, you don’t understand. Gerald tried lifting me out of that chair, and it physically hurt me. Almost like my legs and spine were being moved in a way they shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, it was like he’s become one with the chair.” Gerald added.
“But that can’t be right. There must be some…” The doctor stroked his chin.
“Doc, I think we need to abandon the question of why this is happening and focus more on how we can get him out of it.” Gerald stated.
“My suggestion? Get a priest, or an exorcist. Have a good day, gentlemen.” Doctor Johnson then left.
“Rupert. What’s going on? I tried calling you about your groceries.”
“I must’ve slept in.”
“It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon.”
“What do you want me to tell ya? I didn’t get any sleep last night.”
“Was it too cold? Damn it, Rupert. I knew this would happen.”
“No, no. It wasn’t cold. It’s just… you know. My ass hurts. My back hurts. And those DAMN KIDS ARE PLAYING THEIR LOUD MUSIC UP AND DOWN THE STREET!” Rupert yelled that last part, assuming that the kids in the neighborhood could hear him. “It’s that Donovan boy, I swear.”
“I can put you inside.”
“No, no, and watch television all day? I can do that on my phone. It’s not all bad, though.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know; ever since I got stuck here, I’ve been having nothing but good luck. I’ve won $5000 in betting, I’m having all this fresh air I never thought I’d have, and the mailman hand-delivers my mail.”
“You won 5 grand this week?”
“Every single thing I bet on has won. At first I thought maybe it was just a coincidence. I mean, I’ve had big wins before, but not this consistent. And I used to do it with small stuff, like 1.5-to-1 odds. Now every risk I take pays off huge. I’m not even betting on the safe results anymore. Why do that when I can make more on the long shots?”
“Way to go, Rupert.” Gerald cheered, patting him on the shoulder. “See, if you had put this to good use in high school, you would’ve completed your grade 12.”
“I keep telling you. The school was terrified by my intelligence.”
“Ok buddy.” Gerald laughed. “Then look, I’ll make a few calls to get a priest…”
“Doctors. What do they know?” Rupert scoffed.
“Rupert, if this chair has something to do with this we-“
“The chair is fine. We don’t need some witch doctor-“
“Witch doctor? It’ll be a catholic priest-“
“And we don’t need them coming in and ruining what I have going here.”
Gerald looked at him.
“Oh I see what this is,” Gerald scoffed. “You’re worried that if a priest blesses the chair, then you’re going to lose your winning streak.”
“And so why ruin a good thing?”
“Rupert, you can’t be in a chair forever.”
“If it means winning so much money that I don’t have to work another day in my life, hell yeah I’m gonna stay in this chair.”
“At least let me bring you into the house.”
“Why are you obsessed with me going into the house? I love it out here.”
“You hate it out here.”
“I don’t… mind it out here.” Rupert compromised, trying to save face.
“Have it your way, brother.” Gerald sighed, handing Rupert his grocery bag. “But seriously, keep your phone on at all times. I was worried about you.”
“If I have any issues, I’ll let you know. Thanks for getting my sundries.”
“Anyway, I should really get back; otherwise Nicole is going to be wondering what’s happening.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“Yeah, I’m still in awe of it myself.”
“I wonder how you’re going to get me there.” Rupert laughed. Gerald didn’t see the funny side.
“Don’t talk like that; you’ll be fine in no time.”
“No, it’s because I hate weddings. But while we’re on the subject of that. I really don’t see myself getting out of this chair anytime soon.”

Despite his apprehension, Rupert attended Gerald’s wedding, chair and all. Gerald did make one small change, however. He asked Rupert if he was happy to give up being the best man. Rupert agreed, believing that it would be a very odd thing to see, for all those involved, a man in a rocking chair making a toast.
After that, Rupert didn’t see his brother much for the next few weeks; he didn’t need to. He had the fresh air, all the food delivery that he could eat, and more money than he knew what to do with. He even made it on the news.

“We’re standing here live with Rupert Davis!” The female reporter said to her camera. “A man who, up until a few months ago, was able-bodied and penniless. But after sitting in this rocking chair. All that changed for him. Now, he’s a self-made millionaire, and he’s still not getting out of that chair. Now Rupert, tell us. How did this happen?”
“Well, Cynthia,” Rupert said smoothly. “It’s the darnedest thing. Can I say darn?”
“That’s probably the only thing you can say on Channel 6.” She smiled.
“So my brother Gerald. Hi Gerald.” He waved at Gerald in the crowd; Gerald waved back. “My brother, he bought me this rocking chair. And when I sat down, all of a sudden I just won everything. Sporting events, dog races, scratch and wins. I mean, I’d buy a lottery ticket but I feel like that wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.” He laughed; a real natural in front of the camera.
“Do you feel that winning all this money is the reason you haven’t left the chair? Are you worried you’re going to taint your luck should you get out of it?”
“See, I believe the chair is magic. I mean, I literally can’t get out of it, even if I wanted to.”
“Magic, really?” The reporter asked excitedly.
“Oh yeah, Cynthia. Most definitely.”
“So if you could get out of it, would you?”
“Well I talked to Gerald, and we figured that if the chair and the luck are related. If I get out of the chair, I might lose my winning streak. So, not a chance.”
“Fascinating.”
“Would you?” Rupert smiled.
“Probably not. Now I think the big question on everybody’s lips- certainly my lips- is… how do you go to the bathroom?”
Rupert laughed, followed by a moment of blushing.
“Yeah, we have a system for that.”
“Well, there you have it!” The reporter turned back to the camera and beamed. “This is Cynthia Allbright, Channel 6!”

After everyone had left, Gerald cracked open a beer with Rupert.
“You on TV. I never thought I’d see the day.” Gerald laughed.
“It’s exactly how I imagined it.” Rupert smiled. Gerald put the beer down.
“Listen, Rupert. I gotta talk to you. See… now that Nicole and I are married, we gotta figure out what we’re doing.”
“What are you trying to say, brother?” Rupert asked, looking slightly anxious.
“It means it… might not… be that easy to come over as much anymore.”
“What, you’re going to leave me?”
“No, no, I didn’t say that at all. I’m just saying that… perhaps you might want to consider a live-in housekeeper.”
“They’re not gonna understand my needs. They probably won’t even understand why I have the needs that I do.”
“Well, if you pay them enough, I’m sure-”
“I don’t want them; I want you. I want my brother. Tell you what. Why don’t you live here.”
“Yeah right.” Gerald scoffed.
“Why did you scoff? It’s a great idea!”
“No, I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Why not?”
“And use your bedroom? No way.”
“You can use the other bedroom if you like.”
“Ehh, I don’t know.”
“What if I buy you a house? Somewhere close by.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“Well, you’re not asking; I’m offering. Look, it’s either you move in here, or I get you a house. God knows I can afford it. Pick one, whatever option that will soothe your poor catholic guilt conscience, because I really don’t care.”
“… How big of a house. And Venetians, can we get Venetians?”
“Of course you pick that one. I’ve always said you were a bastard. But yes, I’m sure we can do that.”

And by late September, Rupert, who had accumulated up to 3 million dollars in bet wins, bought Gerald and Nicole a house that was one street over. He even paid Gerald $10,000 so he didn’t have to worry about making ends meet at work. After all, he had the money for it; so much so that the taxation department began questioning Rupert about how he would correctly file his new windfall. Not to mention the four betting websites accusing him of cheating; their claim was that he must have had some kind of insider information on the teams he bet on. They dropped the accusations when they found out he was a 30-year-old nobody confined to a rocking chair, but they still prohibited him from using their sites anyway. Only one website continued to do business with him and even made him a company sponsor; Rupert didn’t know whether they felt sorry for him or saw it as an excellent marketing strategy. “Luckiest Man on Earth’s official betting site!” As for the dog racing, he simply got his neighbor Harry to go down to the sports bar twice a week.
Things took a dark turn, though, as they so often do.
It was early October when Rupert was enjoying a crisp but not freezing night on his usual spot on the porch. His phone was on 1% battery, and as he reached for his charger, the extension cord snagged on one of the planks of wood on the floor. It jerked out of Rupert’s hand and fell to the ground—a couple of feet out of reach.
“Shit!” He hissed to himself. It wasn’t a great concern, though; he had his dinner and beverages all prepared ahead of time. He figured he could just wait it out until morning and ask the mailman to pass it over.

But then he heard it. A woman screaming her head off down the street. At first, Rupert was curious. Then he saw her limping, in a slow sprint, past his house.
“Come back here bitch!” A male voice, belonging to someone he couldn’t see, came from a distance. Then he saw the perpetrator's face—a dangerous-looking guy holding a hunting knife. Rupert did everything he could not to make a noise. But his stupid automatic porch light came on and shone directly onto the man.
“Who’s that?” He yelled out. Then he walked up to the garden path.
“Is it you, Rocking Chair?!” He screamed.
“No man, I don’t want any trouble. It’s… it’s an automatic light.” Rupert stammered out. The man walked up onto the porch.
“What the hell you looking at? I’ll kill you, close your eyes!” The man roared. Rupert did as he was told. The man leaned down next to Rupert, who, by this point, was shaking.
“What I do… is none of your FUCKING business. You hear me?! I oughta slice your throat right now.” With that, the man brought the blade up to Rupert’s face and lightly held it against his neck.
“Open your eyes.” Rupert didn’t have to; he already knew the blade was there, but he opened them anyway. “Did you hear what I said!”
Rupert nodded vigorously. The man looked at him.
“What are you, some kinda cripple?” He asked. Rupert nodded. The man took his knife away. “Understand something, cripple. Keep the porch light off at night. Because if I see a porch light on and I think you’re trying to incriminate me, I get scared. And if I'm scared, I don’t have to tell you how scared you’ll be.”
He turned and walked away before looking behind him.
“You didn’t see nothing.”

The next day, Gerald got a call from the police who told him about what happened.
“I want you to get me a gun. A big one. Like a shotgun. And security cameras all over the front yard.” Rupert rambled. He was still visibly shaken.
“You really want a gun?” Gerald asked.
“Yes. And we need extension cords longer than this sorry excuse. You know I could’ve died last night!”
“I know I can get a gun; I just… don’t know how I can get one for you specifically.”
“Take me down there; it should be fine. It’s this street, brother. It’s no longer safe outside.”
“So come inside!”
“No! I shouldn’t have to.”
Suddenly, one of the kids passed by the house.
“Hey, Mister Davis!” The kid called out. “You finally giving out candy this Halloween?”
“You go to hell!” Rupert roared.
“Ok so what we’re not going to do is curse at the children,” Gerald said condescendingly. “Especially after you said you wanted a gun.”
“Oh he doesn’t count. That Donovan kid is an asshole; he always says the most annoying things to me, like ‘Oh, how was your day?’ Screw him.”
Eventually, Gerald caved and got Rupert a double-barrel shotgun, right by his side.

Halloween came around. Although Rupert wasn’t prepared to blast away at kids (more so in case that crazy guy came back), he had foolishly assumed that having the shotgun by his side indicated that he was not handing out candy and that he meant it. This did little to deter the kids, since they thought it was part of whatever horror theme he was going for.
“Trick ‘r’ Treat.” A group of kids said in unison with their father in the background.
“No, I’m not doing Halloween, kids.” Rupert said bluntly. They all looked a little let down. A few of them walked away sadly.
“Yeah, nice going, Davis!” The father scowled.
“Get lost, Grant!” Rupert replied. “What, you think because I’m out here that I’m going to, just, give in? My condition is not your Halloween costume, pal!”
“What?” The dad asked.
“Oh just go away, alright?!”
Once most of the children cleared his porch there was another trick ‘r’ treater still standing on the steps and staring at Rupert intently. This one didn’t look like a kid. In fact, it didn’t look human at all. It was slouching and had what looked like a witch’s mask on: a long pointed nose, an ugly face, and great horns coming from its head.
“Nice costume,” Rupert said, admiring the realism. “Anyway, as I told the others, I’m not doing it.”
The figure just stared at him.
“You heard me! Get out of here! Get!” The figure walked away slowly and silently.

Later, Rupert wrote a sign that said, “No Trick ‘r’ Treaters. Please!” Naturally, a few kids wanted to defy the warning. Rupert learned this when a few 10-year-olds rolled up with no parental supervision.
“Trick ‘r’ Treat.” The head kid demanded, holding out his bag.
“Can’t you read?” Rupert sighed. “I’m not going to be tricking OR treating!”
“That’s not fair!” The kid stamped his foot.
“Fair? Who said life was fair?! I’ve been in this chair for months! Where’s my fairness?”
“You have to give us candy.” One of the other kids demanded, clearly unmoved by Rupert’s statement.
“I don’t have to give you shitttt. Where are your parents?” As Rupert looked out for any grown-ups that might’ve been standing from a distance behind them - as they usually do - these kids were quickly turning into an angry mob.
“That’s part of the rules!” The head honcho cried. “That’s the rules of Halloween! Now trick ‘r’ treat!”
“Rules? Look, some of you aren’t even wearing costumes! There is zero effort here!”
“That’s the rules of Halloween!” The kid repeated. “Now trick ‘r’ treat!”
“No trick ‘r’ treat!”
“TRICK ‘R’ TREAT!”
“NO TRICK ‘R’ TREAT!”
“Alright!” The head kid stepped back. “You asked for it, buddy. Men! Take position!”
“What are you doing?” Rupert asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Aim!” The kids pulled out eggs. “Fire!”
Dozens of eggs were catapulted in Rupert’s direction.
“Ah the shell cut me! Ow ow!” Rupert screamed as he was completely covered in broken shells and yolk.
“Trick ‘r’ treat, JERK!” The head kid scowled.
“Why you little…”
Rupert leaped out of his chair and tried to run after them, only for his legs to give out on him. He face-planted his garden path, while the kids laughed, threw him the finger, and ran away. Rupert turned around to look at the empty rocking chair, sitting vacantly on his porch. He was out of his chair. After months, he was no longer confined! He was free.
“How the-“ he began before stopping himself short; there was no time to ponder over the particulars at that moment. He had to go to Gerald’s house. He struggled to get up, legs stiff and back like jelly. As he straightened up, he moved his legs forward, left foot, right foot. He shuffled down the garden path and out into the street. He turned to walk down the busy suburban neighborhood, shifting past passing truck ‘r’ treaters who turned and either murmured to each other in disbelief or pointed and laughed.
“Got to get to Gerald. I’ve got to…” he muttered to himself.
“Cool Frankenstein walk, Mr. Davis.” The Donovan boy called out as he passed.
“Eat shit, Donovan!” Rupert hissed.
Rupert then turned the corner of the street. He was about to walk down it when he saw the crazy man who had attacked him weeks ago. Half a dozen police officers were holding the man down; one of them was tasing him over and over, doing little to deter him and only making him visibly angrier.

Rupert turned around and decided to go to the other corner of the street to get to Gerald’s house. Every nerve in his body gave him that fuzzy, electrical feeling inside him. Full-body pins and needles screamed out in every direction. He passed his house again before reaching the other corner. Everything in him told him to sit down and take it easy, but he had spent months sitting down and taking it easy. The time was now to move before whatever demonic thing in the world changed its mind. He moved down a couple houses, all the while thinking, “just another block, just another block.”

“Hey, look. He’s finally out of his chair. The guy who didn’t want to trick ‘r’ treat.” A voice came from one of the alleys. Out came the head trick ‘r’ treater that launched an egg attack on him. Only he didn’t have just four or five friends with him. Now there were almost a dozen kids behind him, all dressed in various Halloween costumes.
“He’s gonna tell on us.” One of them called out. Another one had a foam bat that, to a regular adult, wouldn’t pack a great wallop; but with Rupert’s condition, it could probably do more damage.
“Get him!” The ringleader ordered with a smirk. Suddenly, the kids ran after him, causing Rupert to turn back the way he came. His limping and shuffling turned into a kind of quick-paced hobble as he made his way back to his house. Angry children started gaining on him as the gap between them began closing. Then he tripped and fell, and they pounced on him; witches, vampires, ghosts and pirates all started kicking him and bringing the foam bat down onto his shaking body. He was only two houses away from his porch, so he began crawling away.
“Pick him up!” One of them cried. Four or five of them did their best to lift him like he was some unmanned island’s sacrificial animal ready to be put onto a spit roast. They brought him to his porch.
“Tie him to the chair!” The ringleader commanded with venom.
“No! No! Stop!!” Rupert cried out but was too exhausted to fight it. One of the kids dealt him a surprisingly powerful slug to the face.
“This will teach you.” Scowled the one who dealt the hit.
Suddenly, ropes surrounded him, wrapping around him and the rocking chair.
“Next time, be prepared.” The ringleader hissed. They all then ran off, leaving only the trace of a couple of distant giggles to signify they were there.
Luckily, these kids were no Boy Scouts, and their rope didn’t affect his ability to get his phone from his pocket. He found Gerald’s number and put it on speaker. It reached his voicemail.
“Gerald, they tied me up—these little shits in the neighborhood. But the most incredible thing happened. Come quick!”

Gerald had an early night, so he couldn’t get to his phone until the next day. When he heard the message, he rushed over to Rupert’s house.
“I smell like egg.” Rupert sulked.
“Jesus, what happened?” Gerald exclaimed, loosening the rope from Rupert’s chair.
“I got beat up by school children. I don’t want to talk about it. Listen, something happened last night. I got out!”
Gerald stopped untying the rope and leaned down beside Rupert.
“What are you saying, Rupert?”
“I got out!” He repeated, excitedly. “I actually got out of the chair! I… I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But I got up! I tried walking to your house, but I ran into the kids, and they brought me back and tied me up.”
“Rupert, that doesn’t make any sense. Why last night?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was because it was Halloween.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about something like this.” Gerald replied. He pulled out his phone and searched for a video. He pulled up the video.
“All Hallow’s Eve, or Halloween as it’s known these days, grants any trapped spirit to freely roam the earth for just one night,” The narrator explained, followed by an animated graphic. “Not for long, though. Once the night is over, the spirit must return to its place of confinement.”
“That’s it!” Gerald exclaimed. “Obviously whatever is holding you captive just… left its post, and freed you from it.”
“I saw a funny-looking guy staring at me last night. Didn’t look human. Maybe that was it.” He tried moving out of the chair to no avail.
“Guess it came back.”
“Does that mean I’m going to have to wait a year to get out again?”
“You’re actually going to try to get out? What about all the money?”
“Gerald, what good is money when I can’t enjoy it because I’m stuck here? I miss doing things. Anything. I miss going out and seeing people. I miss sleeping in a bed. You see that soccer field there?”
Rupert pointed at the one directly across the street from his house.
“Yeah?”
“As long as I’ve been living here, I’ve never been on that field. I've seen a game or two. Since being in this chair, I’ve watched every game, just hoping one day I could walk across the street and enjoy it. Enjoy… life… I guess. I need to get out of this chair. Even if it takes a year.”
“We’re going to make this work, ok?” Gerald patted him on the shoulder.
“Take me inside. I’m going to be spending a lot more time there, I think.”
So Gerald got Harry, the neighbor, to help him lift the chair in. They put Rupert in the bath, hosed him down, dried him off, and placed him next to the window inside.

The months went by. Rupert started getting fat, lethargic, and slow. When he wasn’t watching the television from his window, he was getting Gerald to turn him around to look out the window… at the soccer field. It took Rupert a while to find a delivery driver willing to enter his house to deliver his food. Many were understandably worried for their safety, since it was a very unusual request. Gerald’s wife made him food until he finally found a regular delivery driver he could rely on. He even had a small birthday celebration with their parents, Gerald and Nicole. But he urged them to celebrate only his birthday, not the one-year anniversary of the incident.

8 months had passed since the last time Rupert had been out on the porch; he stayed in for Spring, but when it hit Summer, he knew he couldn’t spend those three months inside. It felt odd to be back in his usual spot after such a long absence.

Finally, Halloween approached, and Rupert was prepared. So much so that he would even casually point his shotgun at the punks who harassed him last year, with intent to fire, all the while he waited for Gerald, who promised he’d be there. He waited, and waited, and waited. Hours went by and still no sign of him. Eventually, Rupert decided he couldn’t wait any longer, so he held onto the arms of the chair and rocked it back so hard that it launched him out of the chair and onto the garden path. Because he’d been seated longer than the last Halloween, he couldn’t stand at all. This didn’t deter Rupert; even though he landed on the concrete pretty hard, he dead-crawled down the garden path anyway.
“Nice zombie crawl, Mister Davis!”
“Donovan, I swear to god.” He snapped.
Finally, he got out onto the curb. If he had waited for a passerby, then maybe someone could’ve called an ambulance. But he kept on crawling until he was in the middle of the road, ready to flag down an oncoming car. Suddenly, a car came out of nowhere and hit the brakes to a screech. A man got out.
“My God, what happened to you?” The man leaned down.
“Get an ambulance.” Rupert croaked as he attempted to get up
“Hold on there, let’s get you sitting down. Is this your house? It’s probably safer to get you in there, I think
The man then lifted him and brought him to the front porch.
“It’s locked.” The man said. “Do you have a key?”
“Pocket.”
“Hold on, let’s put you down on this chair.”
“Nooo!” Rupert cried out. It was too late. The ambulance arrived, and so did Gerald. But too much time had passed, and once again Rupert was trapped.

“Where were you?!” Rupert yelled.
“I’m sorry, brother. I had to finish work,” Gerald explained, shrugging. “What with the baby and all. It’s hard to juggle everything.”
“Then what good are you.” Rupert waved his hand.
“What did you just say?” Gerald demanded.
“You heard me!”
“Ok, that’s it!” Gerald yelled. “For the last year I’ve been running around, tending to your every whim, and this is the thanks I get?”
“I got you a house, Gerald.”
“You got me a house, not out of the kindness of your heart, but because you needed me. Out of your own selfishness.”
“How dare you say that to me, ‘this is the thanks I get.’ You live comfortably, don’t you? You’re not like me. Some kinda circus freak to marvel at on the news.”
“Well, why should I devote my life to taking care of my brother every second of the day? It was like this before the chair, and it’s definitely like it now.”
“BECAUSE IT’S YOUR FAULT I’M IN THIS CHAIR!”
“… No. You don’t-”
“It’s true. You got me this gift. You insisted that I sit in it. It was your idea.”
“That’s not fair,” Gerald said softly, shaking his head. “You can’t possibly blame me for this. You told me you liked it! Neither of us knew this was going to happen!“
“And yet, it did. And now I’m stuck here for another year. Thanks to you!”
“Well, if that’s the way you want to be, then fine, I’ll go.”
“Good, go!”
“Goodbye, Rupert.” Gerald walked away.
“Fine! See if I care. Matter fact! I hope I never get out of this chair! I hope I stay in this chair till the day I die! How about that!” The only response Rupert got was the sound of the cicadas.

And that’s exactly what he did. Seasons went by. Halloween had been and gone. Rupert’s spite had outgrown his muscle strength, so he got a live-in housekeeper to get him up and around every Halloween before eventually getting tired of it. Year after passing year, he remained seated. Rupert sat in his chair for Christmases, family holidays, his 35th birthday, his father’s funeral. Gerald decided that, to stop this friction, he would be the first to talk. He was flat-out ignored. The last time Rupert saw him was at his mother’s funeral. By then, Gerald had two kids going into kindergarten and a third on the way, but Rupert still ignored him. That was the last time they saw each other.

Years turned into decades, decades turned into forgotten memories. And by that point Rupert had forgotten what his life was like before the rocking chair. He watched all the kids in the neighborhood move out and start their own families. He watched houses change, and the soccer field he once revered was bulldozed, with an apartment building built on top of it. He didn’t live life; he existed in one. Now, in his early eighties, he was still sitting there… with a blanket wrapped around him. A couple of kids on bikes rode past his house and heard him shouting something.
“Gerald.” He bellowed out. “Gerald?! Where’s Gerald!”

Gerald had been dead for the last ten years.

What am I supposed to do with all this smoke?

My girlfriend told me if I didn't quit smoking, she was going to kick me out. Our house - her home. With just my “lucky” cigarette left, how could she expect me to simply throw it away?

I tried telling her, I'll stop smoking when you stop parking in the street. She told me she doesn't want the headlights shining into the windows on the house and wake me up after I fall asleep on the couch.

I don't fall asleep on the couch all the time. I mean, sometimes when I'm waiting up for her. It's been a little more often recently, but we both been picking up more shifts before the baby comes.

Ten years we both been smoking. That's how we met in the first place. High school sweethearts. High school degenerates. We sacrificed sitting in our broken homes for sitting in for a Saturday detention. From the moment we locked eyes, we knew we were each other's person.

Of course we waited til the afternoon after detention to make it official. But when we walked out of the bathroom together at the gas station next to the school. Something about the way she was adjusting her blouse just did it for me. The way she fidget with her top…I was hers, and she was mine, and I would do anything for her she'd ask.

That's when I bought a pack of Marlboro reds 100s. Flipped my lucky for the pack. She looked at me like I had two heads, and I told her, that's the one in the pack for when you got a bad day, and you just need something good to happen. That's why they call it a “lucky.”

She was always jealous of my smoke rings. But never gave me much grief for it. But if she had to quit for the baby, then we both had to quit for the baby. I promised her I would, so here I am, standing outside my doorstep looking for a match.

It was one more smoke for christ's sake! Is she really gonna get mad at me for at least finishing the pack? She said to throw it out, and I will… Right after this last one. Besides, it ain't like I'm the one with a uterus. Well, if I'm gonna smoke, then I'm going to at least try to enjoy it.

I usually smoke down to the filter, but I mean is one drag really the worst thing in the world? That's all it comes down to anyway, that last drag deep inhale of tar and smoke filling my throat and lungs like a flame winding its way through every orifice.

At that point, I can toss the rest of that “lucky” cigarette behind me and just move on with my life. I can watch the smoke drifting out of my mouth like the essence of everything my life has been for the past ten years.

I went inside, washed up, and figured I'd lay down on the couch until she got home.

What am I supposed to do with all this smoke?

I wasn't expecting that cigarette was gonna lead to a house fire. It was that new kind, with the new more flame retardant paper for the stick or whatever. Usually I'm smoking these things down til they're beat!

But here I am, trying to figure out what I'm going to tell my girlfriend. We have fire insurance, but there are things in that house that can't be replaced. Memories were made there. Even if I did quit, how was she gonna let me stay here with her?

The firefighters were putting it out. I got out pretty quickly. I thanked god I fell asleep on the couch. But it was three o'clock in the morning, and I never heard her come home.

I looked over to the street. Our car was sitting in that spot. I spun back around and saw a firefighter carrying out a limp body. They tried to revive her.

What am I supposed to do with all this smoke?

I've never met an Aghori baba personally, but I remember going to a religious gathering with my family and a few aunties. It was organised by some babas, and honestly, the whole experience felt pretty strange to me.

I believe in God and respect everyone's beliefs, but there were people claiming that God had entered their bodies. They were behaving differently, and people around them were actually believing it and asking questions about their personal problems.

I was just standing there thinking, how can someone be so sure that God has entered another person's body? And what surprised me even more was how easily people were convinced.

I'm not judging anyone's faith, but I personally found it really hard to believe. Even today, I remember how confused I was.

Has anyone here experienced something similar? Do you think these things are real, or is it more about people's beliefs and emotions?

When I was in grade 1, my class was about to start arts and crafts, and we were asked to pull out our scissors from our desks. This one girl couldn’t find her scissors in her desk, so the teacher made all the kids look in their desks to try and find these scissors.

I looked in my desk and I didn’t have them (which I already knew I didn’t have them because I didn’t steal them). I then poked my head up and told my teacher that “they ain’t in my desk” as I’m climbing back up from the floor to take a seat at my desk. And my teacher yelled “CHECK AGAIN!”. She then proceeds to tilt my desk and dump all my stuff out and onto the floor! I was baffled and I was trying so hard not to cry (I was 6 mind you).

She then proceeds to tilt about 5 other boys desks, randomly around the room, sending all their stuff/belongings all over the floor as well.

During the chaos of it all, where the 6 of us boys are frantically putting our stuff back in our desk that is all over the floor now. The EA (support staff) who was working with the special needs student at the back table in the corner of the classroom pipes up and says, “Oh sorry, are these they scissors that you are looking for” as she is holding them up for all of us to see.

Apparently the EA “grabbed them off a students desk” and “didn’t think they belonged to anyone”.

I’m about to turn 27 now and for whatever reason that moment has always stuck with me and it pisses me off whenever I think about it.

Selected moments from NDE experiencers sharing what changed, what stayed with them, and how they see life differently afterward. Full episodes are linked in the video description.

10 NDE Experiencers Share What Changed Afterward

My roommate asked if we could talk last night and i immediately started trying to remember if id left something gross in the fridge.

Apparently shes been uncomfortable with how many guys ive been having over. She said she wasnt judging she just wanted a heads up instead of finding someone she didnt know in the kitchen before work.

Which is fair, except i haven't been seeing anyone.

I asked who she meant and she said shed seen three different guys leaving in the morning over the last few weeks.

All my brother.

He works about ten minutes from here but lives almost an hour away, so sometimes he sleeps on the couch after a late shift. Id told her he would occasionally stay over. They just havent really spent time around each other.

He had long hair and a beard until his girlfriend broke up with him. Then he shaved his head, regretted it, shaved the beard too. He's also been wearing glasses lately because his contacts are bothering him.

We were eating Chinese when she brought this up. I was folding the ad from my fortune cookie into a tiny square while she explained that she didnt want to have to put a bra on every time she went to get water.

I genuinely thought shed seen someone coming out of another apartment until she said "the bald one was nice though, he offered to take my trash down."

Thats when I figured it out.

I told her it was my brother and she said "okay but what about the other two?"

I said no, all of them. Same person.

She thought i was messing around with her. Actually got a little annoyed and said she was trying to have a normal conversation with me.

So i showed her his Instagram. She scrolled through a few pictures, zoomed in on one, then just put my phone down.

Apparently shed already told her best friend that i was having a "messy phase" and she wasnt sure how to bring it up. Meanwhile my brother has been eating cereal in our kitchen and going to work.

She apologized and we laughed about it, but then she admitted shed thought one of them was cute.

Obviously i asked which one.

She said it didnt matter now and started packing up the leftovers. Ive asked twice since and shes getting annoyed with me, but i feel like i deserve to know.

Previously

As another witness came forward with answers about that fateful night, Kylie and Maureen found themselves growing closer as secrets from their pasts emerged. Elsewhere, Michael made a dangerous mistake, while Yvonne's world was turned upside down.

Episode 10 Preview

One Slater faces a shocking truth. Kylie and Maureen's unlikely bond grows stronger. And as the Jenkins day goes from bad to worse, Nicola is left reeling by a devastating discovery.

13/1/1999 Wednesday

———

07:09AM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop

———

Upstairs in their flat above their corner shop, Yvonne Shawcross lays in bed slowly stirring awake.

Yvonne sighs and slowly sits up. Her dull light pink thigh length nighty flows around her body in the airy room. She gets up and slowly walks over to the dresser at the bottom of their bed where a small TV standa, as well as Michael's aftershaves, Yvonne's jewellery and perfume. That sort of stuff.

She opens the drawer, and looks at what's there.

Fuck it

She doesn't fancy making an impression today.

Today is...different. After last night...she feels different.

———

Downstairs. 07:11AM

———

In the actual shop, its quiet. A fridge full of drinks hums in the corner, a radio crackles quietly behind Michael, and the sound of life outside carries by.

But the noise around Michael is nothing to compare to the noise in his head. He sits there at the counter, feeling like the world's worst husband.

Guilt ridden. He cannot stop thinking about Mitchell. About Yvonne. About last night. About what he's done.

His face is withdrawn. Heavy with guilt and regret.

The fuck have I done? She doesn't deserve this

He sits there, hating himself. But...torn? His head is all over the place. Since he got back to the shop last night, he hasn't been the same. Yvonne even noticed

———

Upstairs. 07:12AM

———

Yvonne has thrown on some casual jeans, trainers, and a baggy jumper. The day looks like its going to need one.

She slouches over to the small bathroom off to the side of their room, turns the cold tap on the sink, and splashes her face. Forcing herself wide awake.

She walks over to the small black bin where she steps a little peddle down and the lid pops up. She's about to drop the tissue ball in the bin when a box catches her eye.

The pregnancy test...its still in there

Fuck. What if Michael seen it?

What if he hasn't?

She reaches down into the bin, picks the box out, checks that the positive test is till in there, it is, and she pockets the small box in her bra, under her dark purple thick jumper. It isnt noticeable. She drops the tissue in the bin, and heads downstairs.

She walks through their bedroom, out the door them through their open living and kitchen area, opens the flat door, and heads down the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, is narrow. A small space. Where on the other side of the door, is the shop. The business. And Michael.

She takes a deep breath, sighs. And opens the door—

———

Downstairs. 07:14AM

———

Michael looks up from the counter and immediately a smile jumps on his face. A fake one...

Michael: "Alright love?" He asks with a smile

Yvonne also has a smile on her face

Yvonne: "Yeah. Yeah good thanks. You uh...could've woke me, you know?"

Michael: "Eh. You looked peaceful. Didn't want to disturb you. Plus, wanted to just have some quiet time while opening up the shop" he smiles at her.

Yvonne smiles.

Yvonne: "Fair enough. You...you seem in good spirits this morning. You feeling better?"

Michael: "'Better'?"

Yvonne: "Yeah. Last night, when you got back from your drink with Eddie you– you seemed off. Quiet"

Michael's face faulters briefly but he quickly masks it.

Yvonne: "Did you fall out with him or something?"

Michael: "Oh i just...i was just tired. Couldn't wait to crawl into bed beside you"

He smiles at her sweetly.

Michael: "Come 'ere"

Yvonne walks right up to the counter with a small smile.

Michael leans in for a kiss and she kisses him.

They briefly kiss on the lips.

Michael: "I love you. You know that dont you?"

Yvonne: "Course I do, silly. Married me didn't you?"

She giggles

They both look at each other, smiling. It's almost peaceful. Then–

DINGALING

The bell above the door jingles as it opens and a cool biting breeze cuts in.

It's Maureen, pulling on her wheelie shopping trolley. Wearing her light blue coat and thick classes

Yvonne: "Morning Maureen"

Maureen: "Hiya Yvonne love"

Michael: "Alright Maur?"

Maureen: "Yeah, yeah. Yeah ta. Cor it's nippy out there"

Maureen and Michael start chit-chatting and Yvonne slips out the front door where Maureen just came in through

———

07:19AM. The Strip. Outside

———

The local shopping parade, also known as "The Strip" stands sprawled across this large concrete slabbed field in Marlas Estate. Home to the post office, corner shop, the hardware store, and the chemist. Every other shop on the strip is boarded up.

It's gotten colder since Yvonne got up. She pulls her arms around herself, fighting the cold, and walks around the side of the building where large green dumpster bins are. Massive ones.

She quickly looks around her, sees no-one, pulls out the pregnancy test box from her bra, looks at it, thinking, and then drops it in the bin and covers it with more rubbish. Properly disposing of it this time.

She walks away from it and then turns the corner, to the front of the shopping parade when she bumps into Sunita.

Yvonne: "SHIT!—"

Sunita: "Oh! Yvonne- im sorry! Didn't see you there"

Sunita giggles

Sunita: "You okay darling? How are you feeling? I was just coming in to buy some milk, and...well...to–"

Yvonne: "To check on me?"

Sunita nods

Yvonne: "I'm- I'm fine thank you Sunita"

Yvonne briefly says before trying to head inside, but Sunita purposefully steps in her way.

Sunita: "And what about your..." she nods at Yvonne's stomach

Yvonne glances around again, and pulls Sunita to the side of the building, where the bins are.

Yvonne whispers: "I...yeah. I'm pregnant"

Sunita gasps and Yvonne shooshes her

Sunita: "Sorry! Sorry!" She whispers

Sunita: "Does Michael know?"

Yvonne: "No. And it's staying that way. Or at least for now"

Sunita: "Why? If-...if you dont mind me asking..."

Yvonne: "Well because I...I dont know what im going to do"

Sunita: "Do you know what you want to do?"

Yvonne: "I think i know what I want to do..."

Sunita looks at her

Yvonne: "Abort it"

Sunita purses her lips and sighs through her nose.

Sunita: "Well...it is your choice after all. But are you sure you dont want to tell Michael about it? I mean you never know, he could be thrilled to be–"

Yvonne: "Sunita, please" Yvonne holds her hand up and stops Sunita talking

Sunita does

Yvonne: "I just...I need time to think. I have no idea what- what to expect"

Sunita nods in understanding.

Yvonne: "I hid the test in the bin back there"

Yvonne whispers as she tilts her head backwards to the bins

Sunita: "Well...whatever you decide, you know where I am if you need someone to talk to. Or anything. Okay?"

Yvonne sighs in relief

Yvonne: "Yeah...yeah. Thank you Sunita" she smiles.

Sunita: "Of course" she smiles back

—

Sunita and Yvonne both walk into the shop, where Maureen is getting served by Michael.

She bought the usual, milk, butter, newspapers, teabags, and a pack of Chesterfield Red...

Yvonne notices

Yvonne: "Didn't know you smoked them Maureen. Always thought you smoked bacci"

Maureen: "Oh- yeah- no i do. I just...its for a friend" she smiles at Yvonne

———

07:36AM. Maureen's Home. Number 41.

———

In the dated and lived-in living room, Kylie sits on the sofa- her current makeshift bed, and stares at the texts From Gaz that she hasn't answered. The texts asking where she is.

She sighs, and puts her phone down on the table.

As she does, the front door behind the sofa opens and Kylie jumps around.

Maureen walks in out from the cold, pulling her now full trolly.

Maureen: "It's okay Kylie, love. Just me"

Kylie sighs: "Yeah. I know" she says quietly

Maureen closed the door behind her and takes her coat off and hangs it up on the rack beside the door.

Maureen: "You dont need to be so on edge here. You're safe. You're fine"

Kylie: "I know. Just...don't know where I'm safe anymore"

A loud silence sits there and Kylie tries to cover it with humour

Kylie: "Dramatic. I know" she giggles quietly

Maureen pulls out the pack of fags that she bought from the shop

Maureen: "Here. Got these for you"

Kylie: "Aw cheers. You're a star"

Kylie says, reaching behind her and grabbing them from Maureen.

Maureen: "You want to get out of the house. Being couped up in here ain't gunna do you too much good. Even if it is where you feel safe. Some fresh air will do you well"

Kylie: "I'd rather not. Can't be arsed with avoiding everyone i know"

Maureen: "I know. But still. Come on, I'll take you to The Arms. Get a proper drink down you, calm your nerves a bit"

Kylie: "Drinking in public? I'm good. Thanks anyway"

Maureen sighs

Maureen: "Look, love. Your Nathan isn't gunna be round 'ere is he?" She asks rhetorically.

Kylie just looks up at her

Maureen: "Well?"

Kylie: "No. Prob'ly not" she mutters

Maureen: "Right" she sighs

Maureen: "Soon as I've put these away" She nods to the shopping

Maureen: "I'm getting you out the house. Even if it's for ten minutes"

Kylie nods, not having the energy to fight back anymore than she already has.

———

11:14AM. Mitchell's Flat. Flat 34, Marlas Flats, Marlas Estate

———

In the only tower block of flats on the estate, lives Mitchell Thomas. In flat 34. The tower is tall, standing intimidatingly at the end of one of the many streets on the estate. Looming over much of the estate.

The usual stereotypical working class council tower of flats.

At the top of the tower, you could see the entire estate from there. Everything. The Strip, the pub, the train tracks that partly go overhead of some of the estate, Maureen's, The Slaters, The Jenkins, and more.

Inside, Mitchell's flat isn't exactly what you might expect from a typical young lad who lives alone.

Its clean. Tidy. Modest. Almost nice. By Marlas Estate's standards anyway. Especially by the standards of the rest of the flats. This is probably one of the nicest looking flats in the whole estate alone. And it's not even too special. Its literally just tidy.

He was clearly brought up to be tidy.

Inside the small but bright and airy living room, a dark brown leather sofa sits beside a window that looks down to the street below, to where Michael had dropped him off last night. When...when it happened.

The second time they slept together.

The flat screen silver framed TV sits in the opposite corner of the room, opposite the sofa, blasting clubland hits of the 90s. He's cleaning the living room up, putting last night's Chinese takeout away, cleaning stains off the table.

Bopping his head to the loud music, clearly in a good mood. Glad about last night with Michael. Almost the exact opposite to what Michael feels about it.

Smiling, he texts Michael

Mitchell: To Michael: "Thx 4 last nite. Loved it :P"

He smiles and giggles to himself before clicking "send".

Sent.

———

11:16AM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Around the side of the Strip, Michael leans against the wall where the bins are and smokes a cig. Hiding from Yvonne. He promised he'd given up.

He takes a puff and his phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes it out and sees the text from Mitchell. Rolls his eyes and sighs to himself.

He pockets his phone, ignoring the message, not needing a reminder. And heads back inside

After flicking the fag, he walks back inside to the shop.

———

12:58PM. St Anne's Hospital. Katie's Room.

———

Katie is propped up in her hospital bed, looking considerably better than she did the last time anyone thought she might never wake up. Jenna sits beside her, while Gavin occupies a chair near the window. Julie is fussing with something on the bedside table.

There's a knock at the open door.

Before anyone can answer, Danielle appears, carefully helping Kelly through the doorway. Kelly is on crutches, moving slowly and with a look of tremendous concentration, as though every step is an argument she's determined to win.

Julie: "Oh, for God's sake"

Kelly: "Hello to you an' all"

Katie's face lights up.

Katie: "Kelly!"

Kelly: "Alright, you?"

Katie: "Look at the state of ya!"

Kelly: "You're no oil painting yourself!"

They both laugh. It's the first proper, uncomplicated laugh anyone's heard in the room for a while.

Katie: "Come 'ere!"

Kelly: "I'm tryin', ain't I?"

Kelly attempts to make her way over to the bed. Danielle keeps a firm hand on her arm, guiding her around the chair.

Danielle: "Steady. Mind the table"

Kelly: "I can see the bloody table"

Gavin snorts. Jenna smiles to herself.

Julie, however, is less amused.

Julie: "Danielle, what were you thinking?"

Danielle: "Here we go"

Julie: "She's supposed to be resting!"

Kelly: "I'm standin' right here, Mum"

Julie: "Yes, and you're supposed to be doing as little of that as possible!"

Kelly: "I've been sat on my arse for days!"

Julie: "And you can carry on sitting on it for a few more!"

Danielle: "I did try telling her that"

Julie turns on her.

Julie: "And yet here she is!"

Danielle: "Because she wouldn't shut up about wanting to see Katie! Honestly mum I've had it all morning. Katie this, Katie that, 'when are we going, why aren't we going, am I sure she's awake, am I sure she's alright'. I said no to her about six times. By the seventh, I thought it'd be easier to bring her here than listen to her going on about it for another hour"

Kelly: "Well that's a load of bollocks"

Danielle: "Is it?"

Katie is laughing again, shaking her head against the pillow.

Katie: "Oh, God. I've missed this"

The words soften the room for a moment.

Kelly looks at her properly now. Past the laughter, past the teasing, taking in the hospital bed, the tiredness in Katie's face and the fact that she's actually here, awake and talking.

Katie does the same with Kelly. The crutches. The stiffness in her movements. The bruising that hasn't quite faded.

Their smiles become smaller, more sincere.

Kelly: "You look better than I thought you would"

Katie: "Cheers"

Kelly: "I mean it. You had everyone worried"

Katie: "Sorry bout that"

Kelly: "Don't be daft. Cant help being an attention seeker can you?" She teases

Katie reaches for her hand. Kelly takes it, leaning carefully against the side of the bed.

Katie: "I'm glad you're alright"

Kelly: "Me too"

They squeeze each other's hands.

Julie watches them, her irritation with Danielle temporarily forgotten. Jenna looks away, giving them the privacy of pretending not to be moved. Gavin clears his throat and shifts in his chair.

Gavin: "Right. Anyone want a cup of tea, or are we all going to start crying?"

Jenna: "You can make yourself useful and get us one"

Gavin: "I'm your brother, not a slave"

Jenna: "You're a pair of legs"

Gavin: "Charming, that"

Danielle: "I'll come with you. Before they find another job for me"

Danielle and Gavin leave the room, bickering quietly about whether the hospital tea is worth drinking. Julie pulls a chair closer to the bed.

Kelly eases herself into it, arranging her crutches beside her

Katie: "So. What d'you remember?"

Kelly's expression changes slightly.

Kelly: "Not much at first. Bits an' pieces. The road. The music. Jamie driving like a maniac"

Jenna: "Kelly—"

Kelly: "What? He was. You weren't in the car"

Jenna lets it go.

Kelly: "I remember him screaming something. Then he just... swerved. Straight across. No warning, nothin'. One minute we're going along, next minute he's turning the car like he was trying to get out of the way of something"

Katie: "Yeah"

Kelly looks at her.

Kelly: "You remember that?"

Katie: "I remember...he gasped. Like something was there. Then he swerved. I thought he was going to hit something, or that something was coming towards us"

Kelly: "That's what I thought"

Neither speaks for a moment.

Katie: "Why did he do it?"

Kelly shakes her head.

Kelly: "Don't know"

Katie: "He didn't lose control, did he? I mean, it didn't feel like that. He swerved on purpose"

Kelly: "That's exactly what I've been thinking"

Jenna: "You don't know that for certain"

Kelly: "We were both in the car, Jenna"

Jenna: "I know, I'm just saying, you were in an accident. You were hurt. Things happen quickly. You might not have seen everything"

Kelly: "I know what I saw"

Jenna falls quiet.

Julie looks between the two girls, concerned by how quickly their recollections have brought them back to the crash.

Julie "Alright. That's enough of that for now. You can talk about it another time"

Katie: "I'm alright, Mum"

Julie: "I know you are" she smiles

For a moment, they sit together in silence. Not particularly comfortable silence, but the sort that comes from knowing someone else remembers the same thing you do.

Then Katie's expression brightens a little.

Katie: "Anyway. What's been going on out there?"

Julie glances at Jenna

Katie: "What?"

Katie: "What? I've been stuck in here for God knows how long. I want to know what's happening. Has the usual drama kicked off yet, or have you lot managed to behave yourselves for five minutes?"

Julie: "Oh, you know what it's like out there" she waves it off

Katie: "That's not an answer"

Jenna: "Nothing you need to worry about" she quickly replies. Almost defensively

Katie looks at her.

Katie: "That's even less of an answer"

Kelly shifts in her chair.

Kelly: "Well, there is one thing—"

Jenna: "Kelly"

Kelly stops.

Katie looks from one to the other.

Katie: "What?"

Kelly: "Nothin'"

Katie: "Don't do that"

Kelly: "Do what?"

Katie: "That. When everyone's got something to say and suddenly nobody wants to say it"

Julie: "Katie, love, you've had a lot to deal with—"

Katie: "Mum, I'm not made of glass"

Julie: "Nobody said you were"

Katie: "Then tell me what's happened! I'm not stupid. Something has"

Jenna shoots Kelly a warning look. Kelly ignores it.

Kelly: "Someone's burnt the burgervan down"

Katie stares at her.

Katie: "What?"

Kelly: "The catering trailer. It's gone. Burnt right to the ground"

Julie: "Kelly!"

Kelly: "What? She asked!"

Jenna: "We were going to tell you when you were feeling a bit better"

Katie: "When I was feeling a bit better? You're telling me our burgervan has been burnt down, and nobody thought to mention it?"

Julie: "Darling, we didn't want to upset you"

Katie: "Upset me? It's our fucking livelihood, Mum!"

Her voice is suddenly so loud that Julie instinctively reaches for her arm.

Julie: "Katie, please. Keep your voice down"

Katie: "Don't tell me to keep my voice down! We've lost everything! Everything we've worked for, and I'm lying in a hospital bed while some fucking bastard gets away with it!

Julie: "We haven't lost everything"

Katie: "Oh, haven't we? What's left, then? Tell me! What have we got left?"

Julie struggles to find an answer that won't make things worse.

Jenna: "We'll sort something out'

Katie: "With what money Jen? We're skint! We're on our arse. Fuck all to our name"

Julie: "We'll manage"

Katie: "How?!"

Her voice cracks on the word. The anger is still there, but underneath it is the sheer helplessness of being trapped in a hospital bed while her life outside falls apart.

Jenna: "See what you've done?"

Kelly: "I'm sorry"

Katie turns to her

Katie: "What for?" You didn't burn it down, did you?"

Kelly: "Well no"

Katie swallows, staring at the blanket across her legs.

Katie: "Who did it?"

Jenna: "We don't know for certain"

Katie: "But you've got an idea"

Kelly: "We think it could be Jamie's lot. His family"

Katie seethes in rage and disbelief

Julie: "Listen to me. I know you're angry. You've every right to be angry. But you've only just come round, love. You've been through enough already"

Katie looks away, her jaw clenched.

Julie: "We're here. All of us. We're going to deal with it together, alright? Whatever's happened to the van, whatever comes next, you're not on your own. We'll bounce back together. We always do"

Kelly: "And it's not like we've got no money coming in is it? Jen and Dani are both still working, so..."

At that, Jenna masks the look on her face and the fact that she indeed doesn't have a job anymore. And plays along for everyone's peace of mind

Katie says nothing.

Julie gently smooths the blanket near her daughter's hand.

Julie: "Please, darling. Just breathe"

For a few seconds, Katie seems incapable of doing anything else but stare at the wall. Then, slowly, she draws a breath. Another. The fury hasn't disappeared, but she's no longer trying to fight the entire world from her hospital bed.

Kelly reaches for her hand again.

This time, Katie lets her take it.

The room settles. Jenna sits back down. Julie remains beside Katie, her hand resting reassuringly on the bed.

Then—

KNOCK, KNOCK

Everyone turns towards the door.

A woman in a light grey suit appears in the doorway, flashing a polite smile as she looks around the room.

It's DCI Channing.

Channing: "Well. I'm glad to see you've got a full house, Katie. I was hoping to chat to you directly but seeing how you and Kelly are both here, mind if i talk to you both?"

That question is more of a statement rather than asking for permission, as DCI Channing steps into the room and sits amongst everybody anyway. Already pulling out her notepad and pen.

———

2:14PM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

Tucked around the corner behind the bar, Paula is leaning against the wall, on the phone. Blocking one ear from the noise of the pub, and the other pressed against the phone's earpiece.

She's on the phone to her sister, Rebecca, who's living up north in the cotswolds. Away from city life and in the tranquility of nature and village charm.

Paula: "No- No I'm alright. Just...stressed that's all"

Rebecca: "You sure?"

Paula: "Yeah"

Rebecca: "You sure? Because I could always come down there for a few–"

Paula: "No-no sis you're fine. Honestly"

Rebecca: "Paula i really–"

Paula: "Beck, really. You dont need to. I just needed to...unload on someone is all"

Rebecca: "Mm. Well you know my door is always wide open for you, baby sis, alright?"

Paula: "I'll hold you to that" she half jokes.

Eddie peeks his head around the corner and whispers to Paula;

Eddie: "Paula, love can I have a hand?"

Before disappearing to the bar again

Paula: "Right. Better head off sis. Eddie needs me"

Rebecca: "Cor i dunno why you signed up for that lifestyle I don't"

Paula: "You and me both" she giggles

Paula: "Aleight then, tata"

Rebecca: "Bye"

Paula hangs the phone up on the wall and walks over to the bar.

As Paula steps into the bar with Eddie, he nods to some punters who are waiting at the bar. Along with Tony, standing at the front with a grin and a gold tooth showing.

Tony: "Alright, pretty?"

Paula grins but keeps her cool.

Paula: "What can I do you for, Tony?"

———

2:16PM. St Anne's Hospital. Katie's Room.

———

The door to Katie's room barely finishes closing behind DCI Catrin Channing before everybody starts talking about her.

Katie: "Jesus i thought she'd never leave"

Danielle: "Same"

Jenna: "S'pose she is just doing her job guys" she tries to remind everyone

Gavin: "Fat lot of good she's doing. We still have no idea who burnt the burgervan down or why Jamie swerved"

Jenna nods in defeat

A comfortable silence sits there, everybody taking a breather after a questioning session that felt like it went on for a full 24 hours.

Jenna's the first to speak up

Jenna: "Right, im heading off home and Kelly, I'm taking you with me. I dont want to hear a word about it"

Kelly: "Fine" She mutters under her breath

Danielle: "You know what, I'll come with you actually. Don't mind do you mum? Katie?"

Julie and Katie both say no in unison.

Gavin: "I won't be far behind, now"

Jenna: "Alright then" she mutters as she helps Kelly up out of her seat.

———

2:19PM. St Anne's Hospital. Jamie's Room.

———

Jamie's room is dark, and quiet as usual, except for the occasional rhythmic beeping coming from many of the wiring, tubes and machines surrounding him like Christmas decorations.

Nicola and Barry both sleep in chairs beside his bed, while Gaz stands barely awake, leaning against the hospital window. Staring at his brother who's being kept alive by machines.

Tasha and Oscar are both sleeping top and tail on the small, two-seater sofa underneath the window beside Gaz.

His eyes are drifting close, then a familiar figure walking past the window that looks into the hallway suddenly jolts his eyes open wide. Its DCI Channing.

He suddenly pushes himself off the windowsill and strides to the door, yanks it open and steps out into the hallway.

———

Hospital Hallway

———

Gaz: "Oi" He shouts down to Catrin

She turns

Channing: "Oh, Gaz. Hi"

Hey completely ignores her introduction and walks towards her like she owes him something.

Gaz: "You here to arrest those slappers that put my brother in a coma then or what?"

Channing: "Mr Jenkins–"

Gaz: "Oh drop the bullshit. Why hasn't anyone been arrested yet? My brother wouldn't have put himself in—"

Channing cuts him off: "Gaz, your brother was the one driving the car. And I have three witnesses– the three people in the car with your brother, say that he purposefully swerved but they dont know why"

Gaz: "They're lying" he immediately says

Channing carries on: "That tells me that there was a reason he swerved. Perhaps to avoid something or maybe someone. If anything, your brother, and the others, will be charged for driving under the influence, reckless driving and underage drinking. Charges nonetheless but nothing as major as you'd expect"

Gaz: "And what about that burgervan that burnt down the other day? You think that was me? Eh?"

Channing goes to speak but Gaz cuts her off again

Gaz: "You lot are shit at your job. Don't do nothing but get up in people's faces and then do fuck all when it comes to it"

Channing: "Gaz—"

BEEP beep. BEEP beep.

Cuts through the silence that's left, and rings through the hallway. Its ringing from Jamie's room.

Within seconds nurses and doctors leg it into Jamie's room and Barry, Nicola and the kids can be heard screaming. Its chaos.

Gaz leaves Catrin and runs back towards Jamie's room. As he reaches the door, they fly open and Barry, Nicola, Tasha and Oscar are being pushed out by doctors.

Gaz: "Mum! Mum! Dad! What- what's going on what is it!?"

Nicola: "WHAT'S HE DOING!? WHAT–"

Barry: "Help him for fuck's sake help him!!"

Tasha: "DAD!"

Oscar: "Gaz it's Jamie! He's shaking!"

A skinny, older and tired looking Doctor with balding hair and a dark grey beard and black glasses speaks up over the chaos to Barry, Nicola and Gaz.

Dr: "Please step away! We're trying everything we can! Stay here!"

Hey says directly to them before heading inside Jamie's room and closing them out, leaving them looking in.

Nicola cries into Barry's arms

Nicola: "What if he doesn't make it Ba? What if–"

Barry: "Shh he'll be fine Nic" he whispers to her

They both hold onto each other like their lives depend on it, or in this case, their son's.

Gaz stands behind them, staring into the void. In disbelief of what his life has come to.

———

3:44PM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

Its a bleak, dull drizzle outside. Concrete slabs darkened with rain, the air thick with damp mist. And a calm breeze floats around.

Inside the pub though, is warm and alive. Considerably busy.

Punters sit around the pub in chairs, at tables, in booths, and at the bar. While a group of young lads play darts over in the corner. The usual scene.

Maureen walks in, with Kylie in tow.

Maureen turns to Kylie and says quietly; "You go grab yourself a seat in the corner by the window over there and I'll get the drinks in. What you having?"

Kylie: "G&T please Maur" she says, scanning the room

Maureen: "I'll make that a double"

Kylie: "Cheers" she quietly says, before heading off to the small booth in the front corner of the room, near the window.

Maureen walks over to the bar, where on one side, Eddie is chatting to Jim, and on the other side, Paula to Tony.

Eddie sees her, and walks up to her

Eddie: "Alright Maureen love? Usual is it?"

Maureen: "Yeah, ta Ed. And a double G&T too please"

Eddie: "Alrighty" he says under his breath, getting the double G&T and pint of Carling ready.

While Eddie prepares the drinks, Maureen spots Paula and Tony chatting on the other side of the double sided bar.

Maureen: "Don't know how your Paula can be so chappy with that Tony" she mutters to Eddie quietly.

Eddie: "Eh, you and me both Maureen. Just company though innit?"

Maureen: "Would rather have sod all to talk to" she jokes

Eddie giggles: "Right, that's four pound eighty please sweetheart"

Maureen: "Here we are" she drops the exact cost in his palm and takes the drinks off the bar

Eddie: "Enjoy, love" he says to her as she starts heading off

Maureen: "Cheers Ed!" She shouts back without taking her eyes off the drinks.

She reaches the small booth in the corner of the room and places the drinks down in front of Kylie, before sitting opposite her, shielding her from the rest of the room.

Maureen: "Here we are love. See? Don't you feel better, being out already?"

Kylie: "Mm. S'pose" she mutters

Maureen takes a sip of her pint and looks at Kylie over the rim of her glass. And sees her looking down into her G&T like its the only thing worth looking at.

Maureen: "What is it love?"

Kylie: "Nothing" she mutters

Maureen: "Oh Kylie for fuck's sake come on girl. Get your chin up, come on! What happened to that gobby lass I saw sleeping rough in a bus shelter not that long ago?"

Kylie: "I'm sorry. I know. Think I'm just tired"

Maureen: "We all get tired. But we never show it" she says taking another sip.

Maureen nods to Paula and Eddie behind the bar

Maureen: "You think those two aren't tired? Imagine what it's like being them. Running a pub on top of a marriage. Neither is easy"

Kylie looks, and listens

Then Maureen nods to Jim

Maureen: "Then him. Jim. He's in here all day everyday. Think he would be if he had anything better to do? That's gotta be tiring, just drinking your life away"

Kylie nods and sighs

Maureen: "My point is, love. Is that you won't get anywhere if you dont try. Even if it means faking a smile. Its hard, but when you pretend for long enough you actually start to trick yourself into thinking you're fine"

Kylie: "Speaking from experience?" She teases, before taking a sip of her drink

Maureen: "Exactly" she smiles. Before taking a sip of her drink too.

———

4:17PM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Behind the counter, Yvonne and Michael both are. Yvonne's looking in the books, checking over orders that are due. Michael is standing behind her, staring at her. Thinking. Reeling.

The silence is almost peaceful until the bell above the door jingles and Sunita walks in. Michael and Yvonne both look up.

Michael: "Ah Sunita! How are you?"

Sunita: "Oh im good thank you Michael! I'm good. Just came to get Arun's pouch of tobacco and some kitchen Roll. I tell you, one of these days the tobacco will catch to him. Then who'll be sorry?"

Sunita jokes, grabbing some kitchen roll off a nearby shelf

Yvonne: "It's always us women isn't it Nita?" She grins

Sunita: "It is Yvonne, yes. Its a husband we want. Not someone to babysit" she jokes, heading back towards the counter

The three of them share a quick familiar giggle

Before anyone else can say anything, Michael's phone starts ringing. The nostalgic Nokia ringtone cuts through the silence and Michael picks up his phone, and sees who's calling. Mitchell.

His stomach drops and his heart pounds hard once in his chest.

Michael: "I'm just...gunna take this" he says to the women politely, heading to the corner of the shop.

While Michael walks to the far back end of the shpp, Sunita takes this moment to talk to Yvonne about the pregnancy.

Sunita: "I take it you haven't told him?" She whispers

Yvonne nods no

Over at the corner at the shop, Michael is on the phone to Mitchell

Michael: "What have I told you? Stop calling me!" He whispers firmly under his breath.

Back at the counter,

Sunita: "I think you should sweetheart–"

Yvonne: "Look, sunita, no offence but it's got fuck all to do with you, okay?" She quietly snaps, not for Michael to hear

Sunita looks down and Yvonne immediately regrets it.

Yvonne: "I'm sorry. I'm scared" she whispers

Sunita: "I know you are. And you know I'm always around if you need me. Okay?" She says in a hushed tone

Yvonne nods "Thank you"

Sunita smiles and nods

Then, Michael starts approaching them.again and the two women quickly act normal and composed themselves, like they weren't just whispering seconds ago.

Yvonne: "Who was that?" She asks Michael

Michael: "What?" He asks. Mind elsewhere

Yvonne: "On the phone"

Michael: "Oh- uh...some scam caller" he lies.

———

5:53PM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

Its darker outside now, and quieter inside the pub. But still relatively full. Vengaboys plays from the jukebox. People still jotted about.

And in the same booth as they were earlier, sits Kylie and Maureen. Both more relaxed now. A few drinks in.

Kylie is in stitches from something Maureen said.

Kylie: "My God! You dirty bitch" she cries in laughter

Maureen: "I'm telling you love. Don't knock it till you try it" she takes a sip from her fourth pint

Kylie: "I'd rather not" she laughs

Kylie: "That drink's gone right through me, I'm nipping to the ladies"

Maureen: "Alright"

Kylie gets up and walks towards the ladies, still giggling about what Maureen said.

Across the room, the front doors squeak wide open as Nicola comes stumbling in. Reeking of booze and cheep perfume, already wrecked.

She's dressed like a hooker

A few heads turn but no-one says anything. They've all been there.

Nicola: "What!? What you all gawking at!?"

Nobody speaks, and she stumbles up to the bar, passing Tony, who side eyes her.

Eddie goes up to her and before he even speaks, he's met with spit in the face from Nicola's intense talking

Nicola: "Double Vodka"

Eddie: "Haven't you had enough love?"

Nicola: "Don't you 'love' me! Gimme a drink"

Eddie sighs and starts pouring

Tony: "I'll get this" he says. Slapping a tenner on the bar.

Tony: "Keep the change"

Eddie swipes it

Nicola turns to Tony and leans her hip on the bar, trying to look sexy. Its not working.

Nicola: "Thanks sexy. Hoping to get a 'Special' thank you for that?" She winks at him

Tony: "You look miserable, and you know what they say"

Nicola: "'Kiss my arse'?" She sarcastically guesses.

Tony: "'Misery loves company'" he taps the stool beside him and she takes it, slapping her handbag down on the bar. The metal zip and buckles clanking. Contents poking out of her bag.

Lipstick, loose change, fags, a black marker, cheap deodorant, and keys. Probably to the house.

Tony: "What happened to you then?" He asks, nonchalantly taking a swig from his neat whiskey.

As Nicola drunkenly explains her and Jamie's situation to Tony, Kylie steps out of the ladies toilets and immediately clocks Nicola at the bar.

At the booth, Maureen takes a sip from her pint and sees Kylie standing at the ladies toilet's door, flashing wide eyes to Maureen and then nodding her head over to Nicola and Tony at the bar.

Maureen follows her gaze and clocks it.

Maureen: "Back door" she mouths inaudibly and points behind Kylie.

Kylie nods and slips out the back door, while Maureen downs the rest of her pint like a savage, and leaves through the front door as normal. Meeting Kylie around the side of the pub, to sneak away together.

Back at the bar, Tony and Nicola start chatting away. A conversation that's bound to end up with someone getting hurt.

———

8:47PM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Its quiet. Michael is behind the counter and Yvonne is sweeeping the floor. Looking rather tired.

Michael notices.

Michael: "Go on. You can go up love"

Yvonne: "No, I'm okay"

Michael: "Yvonne please. For me. Go relax. Have a bath or something"

Yvonne sighs and leans the sweeping brush against the wall. Not bothering to argue. Not tonight.

Yvonne: "Okay. Night" she plants a quick kiss on his lips before heading upstairs

Michael: "Night love"

The door to the flat upstairs closes behind Yvonne. And literally four seconds later, the main door to the shop opens and the bell above it jingles.

Its Mitchell.

Michael feels his teeth gritting

Michael: "What are you doing here? What do you want?" He asks under his breath

Mitchell walks up to the counter: "I'm confused"

Michael: "'Confused'? About what? What part of 'Leave me alone' do you not understand?"

Mitchell: "But last night we—"

Michael: "last night we made a massive mistake Mitchell. A fucking huge one. And it can't happen again. Do you hear me?"

Mitchell: "Well it wasn't a mistake for me"

Michael: "Well it was for me. Okay? From now on, you stay away from me unless you come in here to buy something. Delete my number"

Mitchell: "You're being a bit dramatic dont you think?" He scoffs

Michael: "I've betrayed my marriage you stupid fool! No. Im not being dramatic. Buy something or get out" he says quietly

Mitchell: "But—"

Michael: "But nothing. Mitchell. Whatever it was that we had, it's done. Over. It never should've happened in the first place"

Boom. That landed like a brick on Mitchell's heart.

Mitchell scoffs in disbelief and just walks out. In anger. Hurt.

Michael stands behind the counter, choosing his marriage over a "fling".

———

9:39PM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

In the ladies, Nicola fusses with her hair in the mirror. Pushing strands to where they look best. Eventually, she winks at her reflection, and steps back out into the main bar room.

As she gets to the bar, she sees no sign of Tony, who was sitting there only five minutes ago.

Nicola: "Where's um..." she points to the stool

Eddie: "Tony?"

Nicola: "Yeah. Tony"

Eddie: "Said he was off home, love. Hadn't you better be too?"

Nicola fights back the urge to scream in Eddie's face, but deep down knows he's right. She looks around the room.

Nicola: "Yeah. Right sad dump, this place is anyway" she mutters under her breath, slinging her open handbag over her arm, before trying to stride out.

As she leaves, Jim and Eddie look at each other and giggle and sigh

———

9:58PM. Number 33. Marlas Estate.

———

It's cold and dark out now. Orange clows Emirates from streetlamps and dogs bark in the diatance.

Nicola's heels click clack on the slabbed pavement, leading up to the house. She almost trips twice but catches herself.

As she gets closer to number 33 she reaches into her handbag without stopping, searching for her house keys. No sign. She reaches the gate of the small front garden and looks up, to see the door wide open, and the whole house in complete darkness.

She slowly walks up to the house

Nicola: "Boys!? Barry!?"

As she steps right in the front hall, its trashed. Like, a bombsite.

Wallpaper scraped and ripped off the walls, furniture smashed and thrown about, glass broken all over the floor.

Nicola: "What the fuck?" She whispers to herself

She walks into the living room to see its in the same state. The sofas are turned upside down with the cushions ripped and feathers strewn everywhere. The TV has a big smash right in the middle of the screen. The entire house has been turned upside down.

This was a job. They've been turned over. The entire house has been turned upside down. A right trash.

A warning? A message? Or revenge?

———

That's episode 10! Thank you for reading. Episode 11 will be out soon! Tell me what you think!☺️

So dark like somebody's thrown a black hood over our heads.

My daughter's small hand in mine.

A point of light.

Harsh, fading; repeated. Human: (inhaling) a cigarette. The sweetly burning smell of tobacco.

We walk to it.

It goes out.

A firearm—instead:

“Who's there?” asks a soot-faced soldier, pointing it at me.

“My name is Fadros Moti. This is my daughter, Tera. We're from Goshnen Station.”

“Long walk.”

“Yes.”

“I heard most at Goshnen stood and fought," says the soldier. (“And died,” I think.) “You ain't a coward now, are you? You got papers for the kid?”

“No, sir. Yes, sir,” I say and hand over our documents.

I hate losing possession of them.

I say, “We couldn't find space on the government evac shuttles—”

“Half the pop couldn't find space on the government evac shuttles,” says the soldier, scanning our identity cards.

“I was hoping we might buy a private flight.”

He stops looking at our documents.

He raises his eyes.

“I have gold coins,” I say. Gold, in addition to skills, is the only thing worth anything anymore.

He hands back the documents.

He waits.

“I was told there were still spacecraft here. Do you happen to know if that's true?” I ask.

He waits.

“Of course,” I say, bowing my head, and give him a handful of gold coins.

“I'm thirsty,” my daughter says, weakly, from behind me.

I like being her shield.

The soldier counts the gold coins.

“Would you also happen to know where we can get some water?” I ask.

When he finishes counting: “There's a well about half a mile that way—” He points into the darkness. “Unmanned. No escorts. Access at your own risk. But I heard it's clean.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And a spacecraft?”

“Try the Bastion-IX. It's a freighter docked by the launchpads. Been collecting passengers for about two and a half months. The captain's name is Boyermood. He's good. He'll let you sleep onboard till blast-off.”

“Thank you,” I say.

We walk the half mile to the well. After coming all the way from Goshnen Station, the distance feels like nothing.

We drink.

We sit.

I think of my dead wife.

I wish I knew what my daughter is thinking of. Whatever it is, I wish I had the power to change it. I wish I could protect her mind. It's hard to believe—sitting, finally, in the darkness—that we are on the outskirts of a great city.

It's mostly empty now; inactive.

It has to be.

It's a matter of weeks or days before they get here too. It's inevitable. There's no stopping them. The horrors I've seen. The horrors I've seen at Goshnen Station after they came across the commlines, digitized, recombining and rematerialized, pouring out of our techports like cloudforms of static, the inevitable progeny of man and information, unkillable flesh-data hybrids infusing themselves into our minds, cooking us, boiling our brains with cognitive overload; the screaming, the impossibility of forgetting; the melted, dripping eyeballs and voided sockets—

My daughter's face.

Scared. Calm.

“You fell asleep,” she says.

No, I couldn't have. I have to be on guard. I promised. I promised my wife as her thumbs pushed into her eyes—

”I'm sorry,” I say.

We fill our canteens and walk back to the edge of the city.

All the electric light is off.

Nothing hums.

We find the launchpads. We find the Bastion-IX, just like the soldier said. Boyermood's inside, as are a few dozen other groups of people. Friends, families, coworkers. No one survives alone. I guess there aren't many left alive now who want to get out. We don't speak to the others but smile; and by smiling we become something else than strangers. We become co-passengers. Boyermood takes what remains of our gold coins and assigns us to a cabin.

We sleep.

For days we do nothing but drink water and sleep, dreaming of a different world.

“Where will we go?” my daughter asks.

“I don't know.”

Perpetual, fallen night.

Faces.

Time spent at the well.

We're used to hunger. We sleep through it. The alarm sounds—

A thunderous wave of the banging of metal against metal throughout the Bastion-IX and beyond. A dead city in final turmoil. I squeeze my daughter's hand. No one needs to tell us what's going on. They've arrived. The other ships on the launchpads are initiating launch sequences. Boyermood runs by. “Are we going?” I yell against the noise. “Yeah, we're going,” he yells back and disappears.

We stay inside.

The Bastion-IX creaks.

Shakes.

The engines ignite, but before they can fully power on I start to hear the pitter-patter of tiny bodies pinging off the exterior of the ship.

I'm scared.

I'm pretending not to be.

“Daddy—”

“Yes, darling?”

The pinging intensifies.

It's become a storm, a relentless precipitation of information.

“—tell me you love me, please.”

“I love you.”

(Over the intercom: “Attention! They're overwhelming us. We need volunteers,” Boyermood says, his voice breaking. “We need volunteers to go outside and clear the hull...”)

I'm up before I know it.

“Daddy?”

My daughter's hand slips from mine because mine is moving away.

“Daddy!”

If we don't get them off the ship, no one gets out of here.

“I'll be back,” I say.

I won't be.

I turn away because it's easier to turn away. I don't want her to see my face. (“Daddy, no…”) I hear her cry out, but I am no longer present.

Someone hands me an airblower.

I take it.

I exit the Bastion-IX.

I'm not alone. A few others are with me. Two men, a woman. The atmosphere is a static, swarming, whirling chaos that pricks my skin, crawls across my face, into my mouth, my ears. I spit. I shut my eyes, blowing as many of them off the hull as I can. They taste bitter as batteries.

The inside of my head begins to burn.

My jaw locks.

The Bastion-IX lifts off.

Hi y'all, I'm back with another story from my time working at a very popular theme park in Florida. A magical rat planet of sorts. This situation was bizarre and happened when I worked in attractions. It was a late fall evening and it was dark out. We stayed open for extended hours. Occasionally, the park stayed open a few extra hours for shareholders or Rat Planet hotel and affiliated hotel guests. On that particular night, it was for hotel guests. Regular guests left at the normal closing time while hotel guests used their room keys to access after hour attractions, stores and restaurants. The fast pass machines were even set to only recognize Rat Planet and affiliated hotel keys.

Due to it being really slow, I was placed alone as Line Greeter. The stand-by line was closed via chain and only the fast pass and single rider lines remained open. A family approached me consisting of a Dad, mom, a small child and a very young infant in a stroller. The woman looked frantic as she approached and asked about a rider swap. A rider swap was a fast pass ticket given to a parent waiting with a young child or disabled person while the rest of their party entered the attraction. The swap allowed them to bypass a long wait once it was their time to ride. Before answering her, I politely asked to see their room key.

We were instructed to ask this as ONLY Rat Planet hotel guests were allowed to access anything after hours. The woman became instantly irate demanding to know what I was talking about. I explained to her that only hotel guests could access the ride and that I needed to see a hotel room key to verify before entry. The woman then turned red, started shaking in anger and started yelling. This all happened in a minute's time. I was taken aback and couldn't respond. Her husband just stared at us apprehensively, clinching the baby stroller extremely tight with one hand while holding the young child's hand with the other.

The little kid looked scared as she screamed about not understanding what I was talking about? Why did I need to see anything and why she couldn't just be let in? She was so unreasonably hostile and angry. I felt that something was wrong with her as the situation didn't require all that extraness. I remained calm and polite which made her more hostile. She screamed that they had obtained a fast pass earlier and she threw it at me. It was a thin piece of thermal paper that didn't go far and just floated down. The pass landed on the ground and we both just stared at it for a few seconds before she started yelling again about speaking to a manager. I called over the walkie talkie and a coordinator came out.

The woman told her I had been rude and disrespectful. This was false and her husband just looked down and remained quiet even when she looked at him for backup. My coordinator asked what I had done? She screamed that I wouldn't let them in and kept asking for verification. My coordinator explained I did what I was supposed to do and that she would need to produce her hotel room key before entrance. The woman angrily unzipped her bag and shoved a Rat Planet hotel key at my coordinator. I looked at the woman briefly and she became hostile again screaming that I was looking at her crazy. My coordinator told her I was just standing there and asked if she wanted to enter or not.

She went over, whispered aggressively to her husband before snatching the little kid and storming past me through the line. My coordinator had walked away by that point leaving me alone with the woman and then her husband who stood to the side refusing to make eye contact. Listen, I have a degree in psychology and can recognize "signs" of instability. It would be extremely unethical to diagnose someone not under my care. However, one doesn't need to be a professional to understand that something was seriously wrong. I couldn't be angry with her because she seemed unstable. Her infant was very young, too young in my opinion to be at a park but that's not my business. I thought maybe she was dealing with after birth hormonal imbalance. Her husband seemed defeated and her young child frightened. It was such a weird and uncomfortable situation.

I climbed up the last few quartz boulders and stood atop the luscious green peak with an exhilarating feeling. The grass I stood on was so soft I couldn't help but take off my shoes, my toes tickled by the white and blue wildflowers interspersed throughout it. Their tiny flower petals were tiny fairy beds of silk that faced a miniature sun of pollen. I closed my eyes for a second and breathed the impossibly fragrant and crisp spring air with a hint of dampness. I inhaled the scent of the earthy ground beneath the grass, fluffy and untouched other than for my own footsteps. It was even better than stuffing my face in a large downy comforter that was still warm after it had just left the dryer, or even a towel that had been drying gently in a calm breeze that flowed over the farm that surrounded it.

I opened my eyes again as the teasing golden rays of sunlight swirled through the fluffy clouds over my eyelids. The view that greeted my irises was beyond any of my wildest fantasies. The grassy cliff dropped off to a large sparkling white beach, dazzling as any diamond and pure in color as the freshest snowfall. Gently lapping at the tiny pearls of sand were crystal clear waves that led out to a lake of dazzling jade and sparkling reflections. Fish leaped over the gentle peaks to catch the lazily-buzzing dragonflies dancing across the water. The jade waves deepened to a dark royal sage until the far shore where the reflections in the shimmering depths hinted at an even grander sight. Luscious greenery peaked the grand mountains that pierced the sky, their tips feathered with a lightly fading snowfall. Every one contained its own pallet of deep ruby, rich olive, royal purple, and ever color of the rainbow underlined by the same soft grass upon which I stood. 

It was a magnificent sight in every way. A camera, no matter how advanced, could never capture the natural beauty which graced my corneas at this moment. I sighed as deeply as the sea gently washing away shells on the sand, my worries and hardships melting away like honey under the caressing heat of freshly toasted bread.

Taking a deep satisfying breath, I inhaled the crisp but soft fragrances of the baby blue eyes like the most tender tea and honey swirling with a pristine warm scent like a teddy bear warmed by a child's hug. It paired with an earthy undertone and a slight dampness that I could feel in my soul as if I was grasping the richest soil next to the crisp freshness of newly ripe wild raspberries. 

I could help but laugh, happiness's windchimes drifting out across the landscape gently as I twirled, feeling the honey-tender warmth of the sun blanket across my skin before lying down, the fronds beneath me floating down with me in a bed of sparkling emerald and amber swirls. Looking up at the puffy clouds so perfect and shapely that I could almost catch a cotton candy wisp to melt on my tongue, my ears were graced with the gentle serenades of swallows dancing like ballerinas overhead, catching each other's song with one of their own like rolling crystal bells. Flutters as gentle as tissue paper twinkled shadows across my face, tickling my eyes with their glittering contrast to the cerulean sea above the clouds. 

Now this was the life.

______________________
Hope you enjoyed!

I've sat on this short story for a while(4 years) and figured there was no point in writing it if I never posted it anywhere. I wanted to make the most compelling description of a location ever, so detailed and beautiful its as if you were there yourself. I planned to make this an entire book about exploring various beautiful places, but I quickly realized how difficult it was to write even this much and gave up. Hope it makes someone's day!

My friend's mother passed away on 2023, and yesterday I had quite a scary dream about it. So it start with my friend is living in my neighbour now, which is weird because we already parted ways on 2018. So, she is my neighbour now and here is she living with her mother. Now, I know in my dream that her mother has passed away. So, I was asking my mom in dream that isn't she passed away? How is she alive? And, my mother just said oh it can happen nowadays no big deal. But I was skeptical that how is she alive and I kept on questioning but after that the people around me are no longer responding. Later, in my dream I somehow knew that I have to attend a pooja (ritual) in that same family's house. I realised this is my chance to learn the truth and I went to there home, and there was a huge gathering of all the random people that I've seen in my life, mostly those that I've already seen somewhere and remember their faces and the rest were my friends. Everyone were like statue, nobody is talking as the ritual was going on. I saw my friend and asked her, how is her mother still alive, as always no one was responding. I suddenly had the idea to pull out my phone and take a picture of the gathering. So I did and when I looked at the photo, I was terrified to see that half of the people were missing from the photo, yet they were still there live in front of me. Another scary thing was after I looked back up after looking at the phone, the people in the gathering were looking straight at me, dead eyes with no motion. I left the place running and mid dream I realised I should go back and save the rest who were still visible on the photo. So, I went back and clicked the photo again, but this time there were nobody visible on the photo, I had this realisation that maybe they are all souls and are already dead and I'm looking at dead souls. So, I dropped down to my knees and start to beg and cry in front of them to please return the people back. They are all good people please come back. And, then I woke up, because I was crying a lot.

Crazy stuff, but since I write some stuff, I'm thinking about writing a horror novel from this dream that I had.

​

Long story short, I was running late for my train, and I was running like crazy from the entrance of the station to the actual train and you see my train was on 16 platform so I have to cover the entire station to reach there. It was peak summer and I had my luggage with me, but fortunately I reached my train just 2 minutes before departure. But as soon as I settled down, my mouth went completely dry and I was coughing out furiously, tears running down my eyes, I felt like I was about to die. And mind you, this is the capital of the country and I was traveling in the premium train of that said place. I was coughing like crazy, cannot control my tears and all I wanted that time was water. I remember everyone were looking at me while I was doing this, and I looked over everyone, I was constantly saying "water, water" thinking that someone will offer me a bottle of water but to my surprise, no one did that. And, why I'm saying surprise is because in a premium train you kind of expect that people around you will be quite decent but I was wrong. There were these two uncles who were sitting besides me and they have a bottle of water, they just looked at me and I gestured them about the bottle they had and they outright ignored me and resumed there conversation. With all my strength I got up, went to the middle of the coach in search of a train attendant but couldn't find one, and in the end I drank from the tap of washroom. I never felt so angry, so bad and so disgusted in a public place ever. I know it's not their duty or obligation to help me but still, they all peeked over there seats to look over me while I was suffering and not a single soul tried to help me. This is the type of stuff you watch on YouTube as a social experiment just to see people reaction and this actually happened to me in real life. Rest of my journey, I just wanted to beat everybody up in my coach.

Hey everyone.

I just wanted to talk for a little while.

First, thank you to everyone who has supported **Last Active** and continued to show love to the story. It means more to me than I can properly explain.

The story was inspired by real experiences, although I changed certain details for privacy.

I haven’t been able to write much lately because of my studies and work, but something happened recently that made me think about the story again.

After she and her family moved away, I had no idea where they went. Her family had always lived together in a large house, so I never imagined they would suddenly leave. But eventually, they moved — her parents, her, and her little sister — and life carried them somewhere I could no longer follow.

For five years, there was no conversation.

No message.

Not even a passing glimpse.

Eventually, I accepted that I might never see her again.

Then yesterday, while I was going out for some work, I saw her grandfather riding toward me on his scooter. Seeing him was not unusual. I had seen him in that area many times before.

But as we came closer, I noticed someone sitting behind him.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize her.

Then our eyes met.

Only for a second.

But sometimes a second is long enough to bring an entire lifetime back.

Every memory returned at once — the conversations, the waiting, the confusion, the happiness, the pain, and all the things I had never found the courage to say. My chest felt heavy, almost as if the past had suddenly become something physical again.

Five years had passed.

Yet the memories were still clear enough to feel like yesterday.

She looked happy.

And strangely, I was happy for her too.

Of course, one question still came back to me:

**Why wasn’t I good enough?**

I don’t think that question ever completely disappears. Sometimes we don’t ask it because we want to blame someone. Sometimes we ask it because we are trying to understand why something meaningful still wasn’t meant to last.

But with time, I have learned that someone leaving does not automatically mean we were inadequate.

Not every ending is a judgment.

Some people leave because their life is moving in another direction. Some connections are real even when they are temporary. And sometimes a person can be important to us without being meant to remain with us.

She was one of the most beautiful chapters of my life.

I don’t hate her.

I’m not angry with her.

Everyone has the right to choose the life they want, and I hope hers is a good one.

I also know that I would not be the person I am today if she had never been part of my life. She changed me. She taught me how deeply I could care, how painful silence could be, and how to continue even when I never received the ending I wanted.

Perhaps that was the purpose of our meeting.

Some people enter our lives when we need them most. Some stay for years, while others remain only for a season. We often believe their value depends on how long they remain, but maybe that is not true.

A person does not have to stay forever to change your forever.

Some people arrive as comfort.

Some arrive as lessons.

Some arrive as a push toward the person we are supposed to become.

They may feel permanent while they are with us, but their role may be temporary. And when that role is complete, they leave — not always because the connection was meaningless, but sometimes because it has already given us what we needed to grow.

That does not make the goodbye painless.

It only gives the pain a meaning.

She was my best temporary person.

And I’m grateful that our paths crossed.

I’m grateful for the memories, even the painful ones. I’m grateful for the version of myself I became because of her. I’m grateful that, after all these years, I was able to see her again — even if it was only as a stranger.

Maybe that is what we are now:

**Strangers with memories.**

And perhaps that is enough.

Some people remain in our lives.

Some remain only in our stories.

But the ones who changed us never truly disappear. They continue through the choices we make, the lessons we carry, and the person we become after they are gone.

So no, I don’t think every important person is meant to stay.

Some people are chapters.

Some are turning points.

And some are the reason we finally learn how to keep walking when the chapter ends.

Thank you for listening.

I’m working on a new story, and I’ll share it when I can.

Until then, thank you for all the support.

Hail to the Queen Mother!

Hail to her miracles of mercy!

She heals the injured, and punishes the enemy!

When we fell from the sky, from our metal machine, she was the one to lead us out of the desolate forest and toward glory!

The bastard betrayer broke her trust, but did she yield? Nay! She became stronger! And when the time came to face the betrayer and the companions she had found, though outnumbered, she prevailed!

Now, tonight, we will satiate our wicked hunger upon their bones! They do not deserve the mercy she so freely gives, for they are ungrateful for it! The horns of punishment upon her head shall show them the truth!

And with this night, around the burning flame, we celebrate the end of the Great War that the Queen Mother hath brought us through!

Hail to victory!

Hail to the Queen Mother!

21(F) here… i have a very complicated relationship with my mom, she’s super controlling about everything especially my social life and academics (tho this doesn’t include what i wear or not) …she is also super abusive to me..that includes hitting me with hot spatula, rods, sticks, etc…she even has a dedicated stick to beat me..also for context she’s a narcissist exhibitionst and i am really uncomfortable about that…i am a very introverted person and i have social anxiety so its really hard for me to make friends..and if I make any somehow…she calls them and threatens them to not talk to me…this is super weird…She also slut shames me a lot for no reason…(i was probably 12-14 that time btw)

Now coming back to the story i was a chubby kid in high school nd yea she fat-shamed me a lot cuz of this…this made me super self conscious to the point that i stopped looking at mirrors (i mean thats kinda canon for chubby kids) and whenever i asked her to join gym she used to shut shame me again along with me getting beaten…

Well now i m in university for few years nd don’t live with my parents (just visit them in vacations) nd maybe i kinda changed a bit..so whenever my mom calls me she always gets mad cuz now i m a bit vocal about my opinions (this includes me being an atheist) i also went to gym and lost a lot of weight (30kg+) so i m kinda skinny lean…this makes my mom really mad and then she started skinny shaming me too much and slut shaming is constant…

I came home yesterday nd when i just arrived i was greeted by flying slippers nd my mom called the neighbours nd started hitting and calling me a ‘whore’ in-front of them…i couldn’t control more nd punched her…maybe too hard…i feel really sick and disgusted by my actions…what should I do?

(Its kinda odd to say but even tho she’s super abusive to me i m kinda dependent on her…not financially..but more likely attachment issue cuz i don’t have any friends…even tho my mom is a very very bad listener)