Antique wooden rocking chairs
Duplicate DIY Recipe Giveaway
2023.06.07 00:02 hannahearling Duplicate DIY Recipe Giveaway
What I have: Acorn pochette Bamboo bench Bamboo flooring x2 Bamboo noodle slide Basket pack Bunny day bed Cherry umbrella Clackercart Classic-library wall Flat garden rock Gold helmet Grass standee Iron hanger stand Ironwood cupboard Ironwood low table Leaf Campfire Log garden lounge Log stool Mixed-fruits sandwich Modern wood wall Money flooring Mountain standee Natural square table Orange end table Pan flute Paw-print doorplate Pile of leaves Pine bonsai tree Plain wooden shop sign Raccoon figurine Shell fountain Simple DIY workbench Spaghetti napolitan Stacked magazines Stacked-wood wall Tree standee Veggie crepe Water pump Wooden-block bed Wooden toolbox Yellow Bamboo mat
Just send me your friend code and which recipes you want :)
submitted by hannahearling to AnimalCrossingTrades [link] [comments]
Just send me your friend code and which recipes you want :)
2023.06.06 23:55 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.06.06 23:36 Aloysius_Chinigan 'Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair' Present Guide Anagrams Pt. 13 (#121-130)
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Presents #111-120 <-------------- YOU ARE HERE ----------- Presents #131-140
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submitted by Aloysius_Chinigan to danganronpa [link] [comments]
Presents #111-120 <-------------- YOU ARE HERE ----------- Presents #131-140
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- Fuyuhiko’s Undergarments - Dense Mortuary Husk Fungi
- Akane’s Undergarments - Suntan Darkener Games
- Chiaki’s Undergarments - Nudest Skin Gamer Chair
- Sonia’s Undergarments - Ms. Neutron's Gardenias
- Hiyoko’s Undergarments - Shyest Grandeur Kimono
- Mahiru’s Undergarments - Red Mama: She's Nurturing
- Mikan’s Undergarments - EMS Mart Naked Nursing
- Ibuki’s Undergarments - Musik-Rendering Tubas
- Peko’s Undergarments - Dungeon Master's Perk
- Wooden Stick - Dicks One & Two
2023.06.06 23:33 AuntieKuma Areas of Intrigue and Mystery
Hi all you cool Cleveland cats, (and apparently all you good folks from the "Cleveland Area" as well!)
If anyone has the time and inclination could you offer me some advice on where to stay while visiting your fine city and it's environs? I'm just in town for a few days in July to catch my favorite musicians at the Agora and do a tiny bit of sightseeing. My main question is where to stay. I've got some good options downtown near the Arcade, downtown near the water and downtown in the theater district, but I'm also looking at a couple places in Little Italy, Tremont, and Ohio City, and am open to other suggestions. It's been a little tricky for the casual out-of-towner to figure out where the interesting parts of town are. Does your China Town have much to it? it looks a little empty on street-view but maybe I'm just not looking in the right spot. I live in a large U.S. city myself so I'm not bothered by places being a little bit sketchy or rough around the edges, I'm mostly worried I'll accidentally choose someplace super boring with nothing around or open past 6pm. I won't be driving so parking isn't a consideration, but handy public transportation is a plus (though I'm also happy relying on cabs/Lyft/Uber).
Any activity suggestions will also be very much appreciated, though honestly I'm being greedy because I've got quite a good list going from other peoples posts, and am already going to have a really hard time choosing! Things I like: cool old brick architecture, walkable neighborhoods with stuff to look at, interesting independent shops: second hand clothes, local art, antiques, books, records, comics, etc. unique local eateries, live music, stand-up, live theater, museums, parks, zoos, cemeteries, botanical gardens. I'm not super into bars, sports or sports bars. I'm on the fence about visiting the Rock Hall. ...and don't worry pals, I'm already planning to hit the world famous Lido Lounge ;-)
submitted by AuntieKuma to Cleveland [link] [comments]
If anyone has the time and inclination could you offer me some advice on where to stay while visiting your fine city and it's environs? I'm just in town for a few days in July to catch my favorite musicians at the Agora and do a tiny bit of sightseeing. My main question is where to stay. I've got some good options downtown near the Arcade, downtown near the water and downtown in the theater district, but I'm also looking at a couple places in Little Italy, Tremont, and Ohio City, and am open to other suggestions. It's been a little tricky for the casual out-of-towner to figure out where the interesting parts of town are. Does your China Town have much to it? it looks a little empty on street-view but maybe I'm just not looking in the right spot. I live in a large U.S. city myself so I'm not bothered by places being a little bit sketchy or rough around the edges, I'm mostly worried I'll accidentally choose someplace super boring with nothing around or open past 6pm. I won't be driving so parking isn't a consideration, but handy public transportation is a plus (though I'm also happy relying on cabs/Lyft/Uber).
Any activity suggestions will also be very much appreciated, though honestly I'm being greedy because I've got quite a good list going from other peoples posts, and am already going to have a really hard time choosing! Things I like: cool old brick architecture, walkable neighborhoods with stuff to look at, interesting independent shops: second hand clothes, local art, antiques, books, records, comics, etc. unique local eateries, live music, stand-up, live theater, museums, parks, zoos, cemeteries, botanical gardens. I'm not super into bars, sports or sports bars. I'm on the fence about visiting the Rock Hall. ...and don't worry pals, I'm already planning to hit the world famous Lido Lounge ;-)
2023.06.06 23:29 EnCamp A hilarious developer diary penned by Greg Fulton, lead designer for HoMMIII, detailing NWO's final sprint to get the game published in working order at the deadline
Two weeks ago, I spoke on the phone with Tom Ono, the manual writer for Heroes of Might and Magic III. As usual, Tom asked how things were going. I said things were good... then proceeded to whine and complain for the next five minutes (much to Tom's amusement).12/05/98
When the conversation concluded, Tom said, "Don't complain too much. Some people would give their eyeteeth to be in the game industry." I responded, "Who are these people and why haven't they been beaten for their own good?"
My name is Gregory Fulton, game designer for Heroes of Might and Magic III (developed by New World Computing, published by 3DO). You may call me Greg. Like most game designers, I'm sure you'll find me a bitter and cynical man, aged beyond my years, full of sarcasm, and inexplicably drawn to the horrors of game production like a lobotomized moth to the "pretty" flame.
As I guide you through your weekly tour of my memories, I promise the recollected images will be truthful and sincere but written with a smirk and a wink.
Undoubtedly, we will interact with the following animals: artists, level builders, managers, producers, programmers, testers, and monkeys. To help ensure your safety, I request you fasten your seat belts, keep your hands to your sides at all times, and be sure to not make any quick and sudden movements. Remember... we will be passing through the game production process.
It's Saturday. I'm at work with three other members of the Heroes3 team. I'll be in again tomorrow.
Smells like "crunch time."
Everyone in the game industry knows the term "crunch time." Those not in the industry may ask, "What is crunch time?" Long hours: 10-18 each day. We're starting our fourth crunch month. We have at least one more after this.
Bad take-out food: Mexican and Chinese food are New World's favorites. Today we had Taco Bell and Domino's pizza as part of NWC's "work for food" program.
Social Life: To work in the game industry you must already have some form of social retardation. When crunch mode begins, you may only speak in code to coworkers. Immediate family and friends may be seen on brief occasions so they don't file a missing-persons report. I'm one of the lucky ones; I don't remember having any friends or family.
Hygiene: Haircuts and showers become optional in favor of more sleep time. For me, showers are a must, but my hair is sprouting wings and a tail. Pretty soon I'll look like the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls.
Stress: Anger and frustration are frequent companions. If bridges are burned, this is usually the time. Earlier this week morale was low. In a fit of anger concerning team interactions, I was heard shouting, "I feel like a kindergarten teacher. Can't everyone just keep their hands to themselves and play nice!"
Murphy's law: Any potential hazard will be encountered. I'm writing this diary from the NWC conference room. My computer refuses to function for more than five minutes without seizing up.
12/06/98
This weekend I'm taking care of my PR duties (hence this diary). Not the most exciting stuff, so I'll relate a short story from earlier this week.
David Mullich (producer), Mark Caldwell (NWC vice president and programmer), Jon Van Caneghem (NWC president, creator of all things Might and Magic, and company design visionary), and I found ourselves crowded into the sweltering office of Scott White.
Scott did all the town screens in Heroes III except the Rampart, Necropolis, and Fortress. Since he finished his 3D duties, he's turned his skills to the game's interface. Believe it or not, we were in Scott's office arguing about color: interface colors and player colors.
After much arguing about the interface colors, we decided to leave it virtually untouched. Player colors were a different subject.
Originally, we used light blue, dark blue, red, green, purple, brown, black, and white. These colors needed to change. Light blue looked like the blue used in the main menu. Brown clashed with the brown used in the general game interface. Game text disappeared against white. Black and green disappeared with the terrain colors shown on the game mini-map.
OK. We agreed some of the colors needed to change. After this, the agreements stopped. I don't know what is more ridiculous... arguing over what colors to use or the twisted logic behind the arguments. Red, blue, and dark green were safe choices. We still needed five other colors. The conversation went something like this....
"I don't want yellow. Yellow is the urine color."So it went. Fifteen minutes later everyone agreed to disagree, and Jon was made the final judge. Here are the final colors: red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, aqua, and rose (pink).
"What about brown?"
"I don't like brown."
"Brown is the s**t color."
"What about pink?"
"Pink is a sissy color."
"We won't call it pink. We'll call it 'rose'."
"Rose?"
"The rose player?"
"I don't know. If I saw a pink hero, I'd turn and run away. You know any hero secure enough to use pink as his color is bad ass."
"What about magenta?"
"What about cobalt? What about cadmium?"
"Have we accounted for all the fecal colors?"
"What about orange?"
"Phelan (our art lead) doesn't like orange. It looks bad."
"So. I don't think it looks bad."
"Fine. You tell her you want orange."
"She'll kick your ass."
"Oh. Fine. We won't use orange."
12/07/98
Today we stopped all map production. From here until we ship, I join the mapmakers and testers in playing maps and writing bugs... or so I thought.
Today, I had dropped into my lap the assignment of converting the 144-plus pages of the game manual into a help file. Anyone who has written a help file knows how huge this task can be. I could probably finish it in a day, but it requires no one bothering me for an extended period of time. Ha!
At this late stage of the production cycle, my entire day is spent meeting with people, making sure people are doing their work, and confirming that what is being done is correct. I don't have time for work. I've made the ugly evolution from game designer to middle manager.
It wasn't like this at the beginning of the project. At the beginning of the project the game designer is the screaming prophet, lost and alone in the desert (or the design process if you prefer).
In the middle of the production process the prophet is being screamed at by all his fellow coworkers who are wondering what to do because the design doc is behind schedule.
At the end of the project, everyone's a screaming prophet, and everyone is screaming at everyone else.
Sometime in the middle of all this screaming I've got to write this help file. Maybe I could give the assignment to Christian Vanover (H3 assistant director). Isn't it the job of a middle manager to delegate?
12/08/98
Yesterday I was wondering where I would find the time to write the game help file. Today I have the answer.... I think I have the flu. This doesn't feel like any 24-hour "see-ya-bye" flu either. This feels like "kneel before Zod!" flu.
All right. I've got a story for you.
Earlier today we "officially" stopped making maps. From here on out, we play, test, and polish the game. This could mean a little, or a lot. If the maps play well the first time out, revisions will be minor. If we end up chucking whole maps, we may find ourselves back to making maps. Thus, we started playing them today. JVC (Jon Van Caneghem, New World's president) ended up playing a notorious map named "Barbarian Breakout."
Ten minutes after he starts, JVC pages me over my phone intercom: "Hey Yoda." (He's been calling me Yoda lately. I don't know why. I'm not sure if I should be honored or offended. On one hand, Yoda is wise and he trains Jedi Knights. On the other hand, he is a short ugly green dude with big ears.) "Enemy hero with six behemoths (one of the highest-level creatures) knocked on my front door on week two, day one."
"Oops. I'll be right there."
As soon as I walked into JVC's office, the razzing began.
"What's with the six behemoths? Is this one of the balanced scenarios?"
"OK, OK. Something's wrong. Turn off the fog."
Jon restarts the scenario, turns off the fog of war, ends turn four times in a row, then right-clicks the enemy hero to see the extent of his forces. Aside from his other three stacks of creatures... he has one stack of six behemoths. Oops.
"All right. Open the map in the editor."
Jon opens the map in the editor. What do we discover? First, the enemy hero starts at level three, and the mapmaker (Dave Botan) has given him four stacks of creatures. In addition, the enemy hero's starting town has three of seven creature generators already prebuilt.
No wonder the enemy was able to recruit behemoths on day four.
Remember the story about the father who comes home from a bad day at work and yells at his wife? She in turn yells at her kid. The kid in turn kicks the dog.
At this point, I'm looking for a dog to kick. So, I hunt down Dave Botan. Immediately, Dave states his defense.
"Everyone says the map's too hard. It isn't. The AI's cheating." (Recently, we discovered the artificial intelligence was exploiting an undiscovered bug allowing it to recruit more creatures than were actually available.)
"The AI doesn't need to cheat. It's already got a huge advantage."
"There's a bug."
"Doesn't matter. Set all players to normal starting conditions."
At this point everyone begins to playfully dog-pile on Dave telling all the reasons why his maps suck. In the end he relented and fixed the map.
12/09/98
I'm not writing from work today. I'm writing from home. I have seven-way-straight-from-the-bottom-of-the-Amazon-flu.
With this kind of flu the logical course of action would be to rest, drink lots of fluids, watch lots of movies, maybe see a doctor. However, I am a game designer and unfamiliar with the ways of logic. A day at home with the flu means I have the opportunity to finish the H3 help file.
Wow.
How pathetic can you get? On my day off to rest and get better, I use the uninterrupted time to convert a 144+ page manual into a help file.
I should get sick more often. I get more work done.
12/10/98
I'm back at work today. Good news... I finished the help file. Bad news... I still have the flu, and because I was so efficient in writing the game help file... I've been given the task of writing the map editor help file. Oh yeah, finish it by Monday.
Monday? There's so much pressure in my head, when I sniff, my eyes want to flee their sockets. My voice has the auditory consistency of sandpaper. Monday? Sure, I'll have it done by Monday.
12/11/98
Well, it's Friday night, and I have yet to see Star Trek: Insurrection. Doubt I'll be seeing it anytime soon.
One of the unmentioned symptoms of crunch time is cultural unawareness. In my time at a previous company I almost missed the entire O.J. trial. I haven't seen a movie since Starship Troopers. I'm not kidding.
12/14/98
I shouldn't have come in to work Thursday and Friday. It really pushed me over the edge. For the past two days I've been laid up with fever and chills. Remarkably, it was the one thing to take my mind off work. Aside from a froggy throat, it seems to have passed.
Enough about my illness. From here on, assume I'm always ill with the flu.
12/15/98
Today NWC (New World Computing) took a brief pause from game development to listen to Trip Hawkins (president of 3DO, NWC's parent company).
Twice a year, Trip makes a formal visit to talk about the company and where we're going as a company. It's a nice break from things.
However, Trip wasn't half as exciting as David Richie (our tools programmer) who sat next to me. Turns out David is coming down with the flu.
Over the course of the meeting, the air conditioning didn't turn on. With over 50 people crammed into a room, it got hot very fast. As the minutes passed, I could see David slowly whither.
I thought he was going to vomit. So basically, for most of the meeting, I sat envisioning how I was going to get out of the way when the volcano erupted.
Luckily, the volcano did not erupt. David left in the middle of the lecture and I haven't seen him since.
12/17/98
Welcome to the end of another working day at NWC. There is still no sign of David Richey. Another one of our programmers, John Krause, called in sick today. David Mullich (the Heroes III director) was ready to take bets on who would call in sick next. Of course, everyone blames me for getting them ill.
As far as your average NWC workday goes, this one was hectic and full of revelation.
Revelation?
Yes. Revelation. Only today did I look at my calendar and realize Christmas was next Friday.
Hectic?
Yes. Hectic. Every now and then I need to wipe my desk clean. This means catching up on all the hand-scrolled notes and stray post-its littered about my desk. When my desk is clean, I'm caught up.
This very act of cleaning makes for a semi-chaotic day. There is much gear shifting and subject changing to close dangling issues.
Add to this my usual parade of visitors, and my first chance to test multiplayer, and it takes great effort to avoid turning into a screaming monkey. Yes, I said screaming monkey.
Frequently, I find myself held hostage in my own office as a line of visitors (testers, programmers, artists, producers, etc.) quickly assemble outside my office in a short period of time, all wanting a piece of my brain.
Today it happened to occur while I was in the middle of a multiplayer game with Jeff Leggett (H3 multiplayer programmer). Simultaneously, I had three people show up and cram themselves into my small office. Each began jockeying for position to ask a question. Meanwhile, Jeff waited on the phone intercom, with Heroes III continually chiming in the background, letting me know it was my turn to play.
At this point you may apply the screaming monkey metaphor.
Despite the great potential for chaos, I asked Jeff to wait, gave my three suitors a number, told them to wait in line, then answered each of their questions.
On the surface, everything looked under control. Little did these poor souls know there was a screaming monkey, trapped in my mind's steel cage, wildly thrashing about in a desperate attempt to escape and turn me into a volcano of anger and lunacy.
When it was over, I took a deep breath, noted the walls weren't sprayed with the blood of innocent coworkers, and returned to my multiplayer game with Jeff.
Heroes II multiplayer wasn't friendly in the least. When it wasn't your turn, all you could do was sit at the computer and stare at the screen like a moron.
Well, thanks to our wonderful network programmer, Jeff Leggett, a moron you will no longer be.
Jeff has finished implementing multiplayer support. Now we're on a bug hunt. So, today, Jeff and I played a multiplayer game in the background while we went about our work.
I must admit, I had a blast. Moments like this make me forget my job is serious work.
12/18/98 Friday
Today I actually managed to catch up on all my notes. Next up, International Translation Kit. It can wait until Sunday. I don't get to enjoy these moments of accomplishment very often.
Being a game designer is nothing more than a life of delayed gratification. You spend the first month of the project "being creative," then spend the next 17 as a bricklayer implementing low-level details and boot-strapping the game design when unforeseen consequences arise.
Tomorrow we have our annual company Christmas party. I won't be going. I see my coworkers every day at work. I don't want to see them in a social environment. It'd be too weird. They'd have, like, spouses and dates and stuff, and wear dress clothes.
We've been told we can dress formal or casual. To me this means torn jeans and a food-stained white T-shirt. To everyone else, this means dress formal, because no one wants to underdress.
I don't want to see any of my coworkers dressed up. The thought frightens me. We're a bunch of geeks. We don't look good in casual wear. Formal wear will only amplify our geekiness.
Only one thing could entice me to go to the Christmas party - seeing the wives go off on the management for working their husbands so hard. I'd pay to see that... provided I wasn't on the receiving end.
By the way... hello to Chris Cross and Brian Reed, two friends I made when I briefly worked at Dreamworks Interactive (I didn't work on Trespasser). They called me today. They'd read the first entry in the Designer Diary and called to tell me what they thought. They then tied me up on the phone for the next 30 minutes while simultaneously sending me e-mail with bizarre and obscene attachments.
01/02/99 Saturday
Well, I'm back at work. The Christmas break was needed. I spent the first three days drinking eggnog, sleeping in 12- and 16-hour shifts, and watching Clinton get impeached.
After I was well rested, the eggnog was all gone, and Clintion was impeached, I did what any game design loser would do... worked on the game while on vacation. Ugh. I'm so pathetic.
My initial goal was to play existing maps. After playing five maps, it was obvious the AI hadn't been fully tested. It tended to sit back and never struck out until it had enough forces to guarantee a win.
This made for very extreme game experiences. Either you never saw the AI, or it came storming out of nowhere, knocked on your door, and politely introduced itself as your doom.
When our AI programmer (Gus Smedstad) gets back from vacation, I'll need to share my findings with him.
Well, seeing as I couldn't really play the game, I turned my attention to our 144-page game manual... much to my horror.
It turns out our second draft of the manual was full of errors. So, with red pen in hand, I promoted myself from game designer to fact checker. Over the next three days, I proceeded to bloody the pages of our beautiful manual.
To say it was tedious would be an understatement. When it was all over, I couldn't read anything if it wasn't written in fine print.
01/04/99 Monday
Today was another screaming monkey day. Why? One word: programmers.
I won't say who, but one of our programmers came into my office and proceeded to yell at me over a feature request he'd been given to program.
Why was he yelling at me? On the surface, it was because I hadn't given him enough details, or I hadn't thought through its impact enough. Or it could have been because it was simply a stupid feature, I didn't know what I was doing, and I was ruining the game.
The real reason? He wasn't sure how to program the task he'd been given, and the specified time frame was short. Instead of calming down, thinking it through, and telling me whether it could or could not be done in the given time frame, he panicked, and chose to vent at me.
Programmers are a unique breed. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Some of my best friends are programmers.
I must admit I am fascinated. I've watched each of our team programmers code. It's very amusing. How they code gives me a unique insight to their personality. For instance...
John Bolton (lead programmer): When John programs, it looks like he's playing chess.Now take such individuals and do the unthinkable... Make them into a team. Worse yet, force them to have meetings in which they must interact on a social level and agree to work together. Worse yet, force them to interact with right-brained artists and game designers.
David Richey (tools programmer): David doesn't code. Beforehand, he thinks about his task in depth, like contemplating philosophy, then simply writes it up. Quite often you can look through David's office window and see him bent over in his chair, chin on fist, like The Thinker.
Mark Caldwell (NWC VP): You need to know Mark to really understand, but when Mark codes, it's like he's in a boxing ring, ducking shots, trading blows, and trash talking with the program.
It's a wonder any games ever get made.
Join designer Greg Fulton as gives us his very last Designer Diary entry, which tracks the last days of Heroes of Might and Magic III. In these last few days, the team waited anxiously to approve the gold candidate. But there is no rest for Greg, as he mentions a little something about the expansion disc. Join us as we count down the final development of Heroes III.
01/07/99
Ever heard the phrase "thousand tile stare"?
It's a phrase used by our mapmakers. You get the thousand tile stare from making H3 maps all day long.
Today I got the thousand tile stare after making a map for our eventual game demo.
It's a very simple, small map, letting players experience a portion of the game. Hopefully they'll experience enough and feel compelled to buy the game. I've been calling the map "Dead and Buried."
When I finished, I gave it to Chris Vanover (H3 assistant director) to play. Chris is an expert Heroes player. He's a good gauge of the map's difficulty.
Watching Chris play was a lot of fun. It allowed me to take a break from work and finally see the game in action. However, I am the worst person to have over your shoulder when you play.
Why? I'm a backseat driver. It's a bad habit from playing console games with friends.
Thus, I watched Chris play and second-guessed him all the way. We were like two old men spitting and complaining about the best strategy as Chris clicked his way through the game. It was rather humorous.
01/08/99
Today I gave the Dead and Buried map to a few select people to see if anyone could beat it in the allotted time frame of four game weeks.
One of my candidates was Jen Bullard. Jen is the only female tester in the QA area.
Upon entering the test area, I found Jennifer burning a candle at her desk. She wasn't afraid to comment aloud how everyone else in the test area doesn't wash their clothes often enough. She thinks they stink.
No sooner did I sit down to watch Jen play than the verbal bantering between the testers began.
Ryan Den, another one of our testers, was sure he found a bug and asked aloud if anyone had encountered the same bug. No one had. Immediately everyone began shouting "user error." Ryan thought they were all high... until he realized it was user error. Everyone then proceeded to playfully tear into Ryan yet again.
I must admit, our testers are pretty cool. Their interactions are quite amusing. They banter with the voracity of a knife fight, but it's rarely cruel.
01/14/99
Last night was my last chance to revise the game manual. Thus, I decided to pull an all-nighter to finish it. This was my first time being at NWC so late. I also experienced something completely new.
I had been drinking many free Cokes when my bladder reminded me who was really in charge. Without hesitation, I raced to the bathroom. I opened the door. It was dark. This is not unusual. The lights are hooked up to a motion sensor. To save energy, they turn on and off based on the presence of a moving body. Confident the lights would turn on, I strode into the bathroom.
The lights did not illuminate.
Fumbling around in the dark, I was able to find the light switch and flip it on.
Nothing.
Fumbling around some more, I found the door handle and exited the bathroom.
Moving quickly to Mark Caldwell's office (Mark and George were also working late), I told him, "The bathroom lights won't turn on." He said, "Yeah. The bathroom lights don't turn on after midnight." I asked, "How do you go to the bathroom with the lights off?" He answered, "Usually I just feel my way to the urinal."
"I need to take a crap."
"Hey, I wouldn't know anything about that. Get the flashlight from George."
"I need a flashlight?"
"Yeah."
So, I walked to George's office.
"I need the bathroom flashlight."
Giggling to himself under his breath, George reached into his desk and gave me a pocket flashlight. With flashlight in hand I returned to the bathroom where everything went according to plan.
I know game production has its odd moments, but... this one was really odd.
01/18/99
In the last days of a game's production, the game designer makes a desperate attempt to prevent features from being cut to make the deadline. However, if I got all the features I wanted, the game would never ship. Thus, there is always a tug of war between the game designer, management, programmers, and artists, to decide what gets into the game and what gets pushed back to the expansion or sequel.
Today I was doing my best to get a new hero into the game without too much additional programming or art. I realized I could get the results I needed by simply adding a new graphic and customizing an existing game hero. Even better, I could get the graphic from existing art in the intro movie. All the artist had to do was crop a freeze-frame from the movie and give it to our asset manager to be put into the game. I could customize the hero in the editor. All the programmers had to do was recognize the character's unique identification.
Well, we did.
I wonder how much longer I can push my luck.
01/19/99
I have become the Walmart floor manager.
No. I haven't quit my job.
Let me explain.
At this stage in the making of the game, I find myself spending most of my time walking the halls with my Notepad of Oppression waiting for people to call out my name.
The notepad is a list of issues needing resolution. Most people find the notepad humorous unless their name is on it. Ironically, I end up putting my name on the notepad more than anyone else's (I'm oppressing myself).
Regardless, when I am walking the halls and someone calls out my name, I duck into their office to answer their questions. Sometimes this means getting on their phone and calling someone else to clear up an issue. If I don't have the answer, I'm the intermediary.
Thus, I feel like the Walmart floor manager, roaming the isles, taking care of arising issues. All I really need is the blue vest.
01/20/99
For a moment, consider most game manuals. Usually, a manual details the game interface and introduces you to the various game elements. Rarely do these manuals give you true game statistics.
For Heroes III , we wanted to buck this trend. Using the Heroes II strategy guide as a model, we decided to make a big manual loaded with information. This is exactly what we did - 144 pages.
Today we signed off on the manual. Well, no sooner did the ink dry than we discovered some errors. It was terrifying. I literally sat at my desk, looking at the errors I had discovered, and heard the manual mocking me with the chittering of a wild hyena.
There was nothing I could do. It was carved in stone. Now understand, most manuals ship with some errors. This is what the Readme is for. However, several people had gone over this manual time and again, and still there were errors.
I'll never make a big manual again. It's too much upkeep considering the fluidity of game design.
I'm sure I'll lose some sleep over this.
1/25/99
Today the Coke machine caught fire.
Let me repeat this.
Today the Coke machine caught fire.
Since we started crunching, around 7:00pm each night, Mark Caldwell (NWC VP) has been unlocking the Coke machine for free drinks to go with our evening meal. We don't continue pressing the selection buttons for the various drinks. Instead, we literally open up the front half of this big, red, half-ton refrigerator, made to withstand the assaults of the most juvenile of delinquents.
Now, I'm not exactly clear on the details, but one of the testers pulled open the front door to grab a soda from inside. Apparently, some of the electrical wires were sheared, followed by fire and smoke.
Upon seeing the fire and smelling the smoke, the tester grabbed Ben Bent (NWC office manager and part-time game director). He then pointed out the fire in the Coke machine.
With perfect calm, Ben simply unplugged the Coke machine. Poof. The fire went away.
I must admit, I can't help but see the fire in the Coke machine as a metaphor for Heroes III in production. A fire starts, someone panics, and someone else calmly solves the problem.
Truthfully, it's the story of the game production process.
2/07/99 Sunday
Today could be the day.
We've decided to make a "final candidate" CD-ROM for 3DO approval. A final candidate is what we consider "ready to ship." We then send the final candidate to 3DO for them to do shrink-wrap testing.
Tonight, no one leaves the building until the game is finished.
2/08/99 Monday
It's 5:00am Monday morning.
We just started burning the final candidate.
About half the team is still here.
We've been crunching too long. Everyone's burnt.
About 15 minutes ago, Mark starting broadcasting Money For Nothing over everyone's speakerphone.
Ironic.
02/13/99
I am literally weak-kneed. Except for writing this entry, all I intend to do is just sit in my office chair and do everything I possibly can to do nothing.
As of 8:30 Saturday, February 13, we're calling it good Barring last-second crash bugs, the game is done.
It's 9:30, and with the realization the game is done, already I'm beginning to crash.
After crunching for so long, the crash is the aftereffect. This is the time when you finally realize you can relax and return to a somewhat normal life. This is also the flag signaling the release of all the pent-up stress and illness you've been holding off by sheer will for the past six months. Thus... crash.
Wow.
We're done.
02/14/99
Four days after announcing Heroes has gone gold, we're already talking about the expansion pack. Already, I've assembled my map makers. They're good people. With H3 under their belts they should make even better maps for the expansion.
The downside? Chris Vanover is moving onto a different project. Technically Chris was H3's assistant director, but I adopted him as my assistant designer. He was a big help in many of the grunt areas. I was hoping to hand the expansion off to Chris so I could concentrate on the next Heroes.
No such luck.
Ultimately, this means vacation must wait.
(whimper)
Where is a monkey boy when you need one?
02/19/99
David Mullich's (Heroes III director) wife was pregnant and expecting about the same time as E3 last year (Atlanta '98). So, he couldn't go and demonstrate the game.
I was the next logical choice. I know the game better than anyone else, and when needed, I can turn on the charm.
Now don't get me wrong, when I have demoed the game, it has been a delight. Yet, as a game, Heroes III doesn't demo well. It's a turn-based game. It's not a first-person shooter or real-time strategy game. There's no real immediate reward for your attention span to latch onto.
However, Heroes does have a very large, very dedicated following. Thus, most people who want to see Heroes are already fans. This was the case at E3.
At E3 I did the vast majority of the presentations. I did so many I ended up losing my voice. Almost all the people who saw the game were fans of Heroes and liked what they saw. We were so successful, people were taking chairs from the other game stations to sit in front of ours.
Well, the downside to my work at E3 was... I became the demo guy. The downside of being the demo guy is traveling.
I hate traveling.
Once I arrive at my destination, there's no problem. I'm just impatient by nature. I'm also 6'1" and hate sitting in supercramped airline seats.
So, today I got to fly up to 3DO with Peter Ryu (MM7 producer), Keith Francart (MM7 director), and Jeff Blatner (new Heroes producer) to give presentations on MM7 and Heroes III to our Ubi Soft partners and a smattering of European journalists.
As much as I hated getting up at 5:30am and traveling to San Francisco (less than one week after going gold), the trip was amusing for a number of reasons.
Since I have been at New World, Peter Ryu has always worn shorts and sandals. For the presentation, Pete was ordered to wear pants and shoes. Throughout the day, he was wincing as the shoes rubbed his feet raw.
The other amusing part was hanging out with the French chicks from Ubi Soft and the European press.
Last time I was at 3DO I did an H3 presentation to a number of European journalists. Not a French woman among them. It was different this time, and dare I say, worth the trip.
02/22/99
David Mullich (H3 director), George Ruof (H3 programmer), and I are the only members of the team in the building today. Everyone else is on vacation.
Over the weekend I began my self-rehabilitation for returning to the real world.
When you do nothing but work 12-14 hours a day, seven days a week, and then it all comes to an abrupt halt, you suddenly find you have all this spare time on your hands.
Ultimately, you become bored. You don't know what to do with yourself because your "normal" situation meant working on the game... but the game is finished. Normal has become different and no longer normal.
A logical assumption for curing this boredom would be a vacation. Not yet. I've got to write the design for the expansion disc. I've got two weeks before it is due. After hammering out the specs, everyone will be briefed, then I can go on vacation.
I've got it all planned out. I haven't seen my parents since Christmas of 1997. So, I'm going to go back home and sit in the rocking chair in front of my dad's big-screen TV and watch nothing but cable television for at least two weeks. You heard me. Nothing but CNN Headline News for two weeks. If by then I'm not properly vegetated, I'll watch it for another week. Then I'll track down my old high school girlfriend and see if she's still single.
I've set up an e-mail address for your feedback about the game when it hits the shelves. This e-mail is merely for player feedback and suggestions. I will be the one reading the e-mails, and most likely, I won't be answering any of them. So, don't flame me if I don't respond. [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]).
I've enjoyed writing these diaries. I wish I had been able to dedicate more time to them.
My apologies to Elliott Chin (who made these diaries possible). Elliott wanted me to talk about the design philosophy behind H3. After practicing design philosophy 12-14 hours a day, I couldn't bring myself to write a diary about it. So, I thought I'd do "a day in the life." I hope you enjoyed my tongue-in-cheek account.
I leave you with the following words I once heard the great Jon Van Caneghem speak, "When it's all over you'll forget how hard it was and do it all over again."
He's right. We will.
2023.06.06 23:24 GavinJohnWriter Whatever you do... DON'T LOOK AWAY FROM IT
I recently moved into a new house in a quiet Suburban area. I’m not going to say where because it’s had it’s fair share of media coverage, and teens showing up at night trying to get a glimpse inside the infamous house.
It had been on the market for three-years, and I secured the house at a much cheaper price due to the fact that two people had been found murdered there.
The mystery and brutality of the murders catapulted the story into the local news. No specific details were released to the public, and I only found out about it because a friend of mine is a local realtor with connections.
Nobody was ever arrested for the murders. A male in his thirties was found in the living area, and a female in her thirties was found barricaded in the basement. Another mysterious fact was that the woman had barricaded herself in from the inside, in a desperate attempt to stop someone or something from getting in.
Yesterday whilst doing some cleaning in the basement, I came across a cell phone that had fallen down a gap behind the washing machine and the wall.
And there’s a voice recording on it.
Recorded the same night of the murders by the female victim. And, It’s pretty terrifying. I’ve already handed it into the police, but I made a transcript of the recording.
What you are about to read is the unedited transcript of the cell phone recording found in the basement.
I have to admit, it’s extremely disturbing. The desperation in her voice will haunt me forever.
Here goes.
“If you’re hearing this, please, please, please give it the police. My husband is dead, it killed him. I’m so sorry Scott.
I can hear it now, upstairs, looking for a way in, and it’s only a matter of time before it finds one.
I’ve barricaded myself in the basement and I’ve got my eyes on the only door, one way in one way our.
You see, it can’t move if you’re looking at it.
It began twelve weeks ago. The night Scott, my childhood sweetheart and husband of five-years confessed that he’d had a drunken one-night stand on his bachelor party in Europe. The apparent guilt had consumed him for the past five-years, and his sudden urge to be truthful was due to the fact we were due to get married this same year.
His words hit me like a freight train, and the urge to vomit washed over me like a tsunami. I stormed out of the house, our house that we’d bought together twelve-years prior. I felt like the world had swallowed me whole, and in a way, it had.
I was struck with a throbbing chest pain that rapidly spread down my entire right side. The pain intensified, taking my breath away, and I stumbled into a tree to steady myself as I felt my body about to faint.
Then darkness.
The next thing I remember, was waking up in a dark and dismal forest, devoid of colour. The air was dry and had a distinctive, malodorous smell, like rotten meat or that of a decaying carcass. But worst of all, was a terrifying feeling that I’d never experienced before, and one that I pray I’ll never feel again.
The feeling of absolute hopelessness.
The sky was dull and cloudless, and was ripped apart by soundless, ferocious lightning that illuminated the bleak landscape I found myself in. I felt like I’d been wandering for hours, maybe even days when I came across a decaying cave. Animal bones crushed beneath my feet as I made my way towards it.
As I approached the cave, the putrid smell grew with intensity causing me to retch, and I was violently sick, bringing up my own stomach bile. The entrance was made of crumbling stone and was completely opaque. I threw a small stone into it and heard it ricocheting down the stone steps and off the walls. The silenced lighting strobed the area, and I was able to glimpse into the cave and see a few descending steps.
Then, two yellow reptilian-like eyes flashed in the darkness.
I stumbled backwards, and just as the lightning struck, I was forcefully thrown by an unseen force. The lighting flashed continuously, accompanied by a gale-force wind, tossing me around like a rag doll. My eyes were fixed on the cave, and I crippled in terror, as a pale, gangly hand reached around the crumbling stone. Another flash hurled me hard against a tree, and suddenly -
I woke up in the back of an ambulance with paramedics hovering over me with a defibrillator, and two words that sent a cold and grotesque shiver through my spine.
“Welcome back”.
Welcome back? Back from where? What was that place? That thing in the cave? How long was I gone?
Hundreds of questions raced through my mind, but none of which I had the answer for.
Not yet anyway.
“You died in the back of that ambulance” the doctor said as I lay in a bed in the ICU.
The room tilted as I tried to digest what the doctor was telling me. I felt like I was in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. I’m thirty-years old, I eat healthily, and I run four times a week, how could this be happening to me?
My scans revealed I’d inherited a faulty gene and developed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and suffered a cardiac arrest. I spent the next seven-weeks in the ICU and told nobody of the dark forest and the creature with the yellow eyes. Just the thought of that place was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.
My mother practically moved into the hospital. Fussing over me like mothers do. She blamed herself for my condition, even though her scans were clear, meaning that I inherited the faulty gene from my absent father.
My husband Scott came on the first day, but I asked him for space. I needed some time to heal and process everything that had happened, about both my condition, and his infidelity. Although he kept that promise, he would call my mom every day to check on me, to make sure I was okay.
I wasn’t.
Not because of my condition, but for something else.
I’d started to see something.
I wasn’t sure what it was at first. It started as a tiny dot in my peripheral, nothing more than a spec on my retina. Of course, I had my eyes checked, but all results came back clear, as did the results for my visual cortex.
Days later, what started as a dot in my peripheral began to grow.
The first time I saw it, I was at my doctor’s office. He had left me alone for a moment whilst he consulted with my surgeon. It was dark outside and the sound of heavy rain pit-a-patting against the glass was hypnotic. I stared out of the window, watching as a small handful of people came in and out of the hospital.
Then, my eyes were drawn to an ominous silhouette at the far end of the parking lot. I couldn’t make out any distinguishing features due to the minimal light, but there was something there, standing deadly still in the shadows.
A car horn broke my reverie, a man was getting into his truck in the lot and must have pressed the horn by accident. I turned back to the silhouette, and it was in a completely different position.
It had moved.
It was standing eerily still again, but like it had frozen mid-walk. I could just about make out its elongated limbs, like it’s arms and legs had been stretched out.
The doctor returned momentarily, startling me. He’d gotten my scans, and everything was how it should be.
“Good news, you should be okay to be discharged in a few days” he said.
That was great news, I was so ready to get out of the hospital. I turned back to the window in curiosity, but whatever I saw had gone.
I didn’t think about it again until the night before I was going home. It was late and most of the patients were sleeping. My room is situated at the end of the hall, so I get a clear view of it through my observation window. I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep and was watching something on my iPad.
Suddenly, there was a putrid odour wafting in through my open door. The same unmistakable smell that I’d experienced in that ‘other place’. Two nurses walked past my room, neither showing any signs that they too could smell it. I covered my nose and mouth to try and stop me from heaving.
Then, my eyes drifted to the observation window, and to the corridor.
It was here again. The silhouette.
At the far end of the hall. Completely still, with its back pressed up against the wall. But I could see it. It was tall and skinny, and had either feelers or tentacles stretched up against the wall like an ink spill. Its daunting yellow eyes stared straight at me.
I saw another nurse walk up the hall and straight past it, like it wasn’t there. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe visual hallucinations were a symptom of what I’d been through, or maybe it was a side effect of the many meds I was taking. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there, it isn’t real” I whispered to myself.
I opened my eyes and, it hadn’t gone.
It had moved closer.
Halfway down the hall. It had dropped onto all fours like a large dog. Starring straight at me. Its long tentacles spread across the floor and up the wall.
I was absolutely petrified.
I moved over to the window, tentatively. The smell that resonated from this creature was overpowering. I watched it for a few moments, until a nurse walked past the window, startling me. And, like before, when I looked back, it wasn’t there. It was as though I’d imagined it. I climbed back into bed, but I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
The next morning, my mom came to pick me up. I left with a suitcase of medication and instructions on how and when to take them. I didn’t tell my mom or anyone at the hospital about my hallucinations. I was worried If I did say something, the doctors wouldn’t let me leave.
I had decided to stay at my mom’s until I was ready to talk with Scott. He brought a box over with some essentials, like my comfy clothes, pyjamas, and my own toothbrush as I’d been using a cheap store bought one up to now. He was sorry, and it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping. He said he’d wait for me until I was ready to talk. I missed both him and our home so much, but I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.
My mom suggested that I go into town, see the locals, get some fresh air into my lungs. She offered to drive me, and then we would meet back up at the car after an hour.
Whilst in town, I noticed a poster for the yearly travelling fairground in a storefront window. I have fond memories growing up of this fair. It’s where Scott and I shared our first kiss. We were halfway round the Ferris wheel, when it started to rain. He covered us with his jacket, and then he kissed me. This was the moment I knew I’d fallen in love with him. I was flooded with happy emotions, and it felt right that I text Scott.
“I’m ready to talk, I’ll be at the place where we shared our first kiss at 8 tonight, Chloe x”.
He replied almost instantly.
“I’ll be there, thank you x”.
After a quick smile to myself, I went for a walk through the local market. It was bustling with energy. Vendors selling local, fresh produce, handmade furniture, bakeries, and plenty more.
After browsing the stalls, I was hit with that smell. That horrific, nauseating smell. And I felt the hairs on my arms prickle up.
I knew it was here. Somewhere. Observing me.
My eyes narrowed as I scanned the area. I weaved in and out of the locals looking for it. Paranoia struck me like lightning. I was bumping into people as I went. All eyes had now turned to me. I burst into tears, sprinted back to the lot and leaped into my mother’s car.
I was sitting in the passenger seat crying my eyes out. I looked out of the window and saw my mother rushing back to the car shouting my name. Someone must have told her about my freak out.
I looked out of the opposite window and, IT WAS THERE, standing on top of a vehicle several cars over!
“GET AWAY FROM ME” I screamed.
My mother whipped open the door.
“What is it? What happened?” she replied.
She couldn’t see it. Nobody could. I told her that I’d had a panic attack. I hadn’t been around people outside of the hospital for a few months and I felt overwhelmed. She knew I wasn’t being truthful, but it’s the only answer I could give.
That night I decided to go ahead and meet Scott at the fair. When I saw him waiting for me by the Ferris wheel, my heart felt hole again, if only for a moment. We got our tokens and went on the wheel. We talked as we went round, about how sorry he was and how much of an idiot he’d been, which I agreed with.
Everything was going well until I saw the creature again. Standing on top of the ghost house attraction. Watching me.
I kept my eyes on the figure whilst grabbing Scott’s arm.
“Do you see it?” I asked with a shaky voice.
“See what?” he replied.
“It’s standing right there, on top of the ghost house”.
I could see him squinting to look, but I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be able to see it, because only I could.
“Sweetheart, there’s nobody there, look at me” he replied, calmly.
“I can’t” I said solemnly. “If I look away, it’ll move”.
“Chloe, look at me, there’s nothing there” he said, as he grabbed my chin and turned my face towards his.
“No! it’ll move, it wants me to look away” I screamed.
I quickly spun round, my eyes darting back to the ghost house, but it wasn’t there. I looked around, anxiously, Scott looking on with worry.
“Shit, where is it?” My anxiety palpable.
I looked down, and it was at the bottom of the Ferris wheel. It had moved inhumanly fast. I screamed and almost fell out of the carriage, but Scott held onto me.
“Hey, hey, I got you, what is it?” he said, desperately trying to keep hold of me.
I stood up in a panic, rocking the carriage, Scott tried to hang onto me, but it was too late, and I plummeted twenty feet to the ground.
The last thing I remember, was Scott screaming for an ambulance.
I was fortunate enough to only suffer a sprained wrist and a slight concussion. My doctor wanted to keep me in overnight for observations, which I reluctantly agreed to.
I decided to confide in Scott. I told him everything. From the cave in the forest to this creature that’s stalking me. This monstrous entity that must have crawled out of the pits of hell. And worst of all, it’s getting closer to me.
He could see that I was terrified, and instead of trying to explain away what I was experiencing, he just held me. And, for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. We spent hours just holding each other. He offered to stay the night, to stay awake in the chair whilst I got some sleep, but I couldn’t have him doing that.
After Scott left, I managed to get a few hours rest. I woke up just after two AM and grabbed my bottle of water from the nightstand. That’s when I noticed the door was closed, even though I specifically requested it to stay open.
And then, there was that horrendous smell. I knew it was close.
It was in the fucking room.
It was crouched down in the corner on all fours, blending into the darkness, watching me. I desperately tried to scream but no sound would come out.
Keeping my eyes on it, I slowly climbed out of the bed with my back pressed firmly against the wall. I knew it couldn’t move if I didn’t look away. I side-stepped along the wall towards the door.
I started to manoeuvre around a set of drawers, knocking something off that caught my eye for a millisecond. But that’s all it took. It was now standing on its two legs.
It must have been eight-feet tall with outstretched limbs. A streak of moonlight illuminated part of it’s pale-blue face. Its yellow eyes glistened in the light. Its slimy tentacles spread up the wall and onto the roof.
I kept my back to the wall and kept moving. I made it to the door, grabbed the door handle, but it was fucking locked. I kicked the door, but nobody could hear me.
I could see the key for the door on the table in my peripheral. I fumbled around on the table without looking. I grabbed everything but the key. I knew I had to look to find the key.
I quickly glanced to my left – Saw the key – Looked back, and the creature was point-blank in front of me. Reaching out for my throat, its black, curved talon had pierced my neck and blood trickled down.
Somehow, I managed to scream and within seconds two orderlies had barged through the door. All they found was me, alone with blood trickling down my neck. I barged straight past them and ran as fast as I could out of the hospital.
I ended up running all the way home. I banged as loud as I could on the door, forgetting that it was almost three-thirty in the morning. Scott answered the door in his pyjamas with a worried look plastered across his face.
I told him what had happened at the hospital whilst he bandaged my neck.
“See, this is proof that what I’m seeing is real, this is physical proof, you believe me, right, you have to?” I barked.
After a momentary pause, he replied:
“Yes, I believe you. I believe... I believe you’re seeing something”.
I registered the pause, and the hesitation in his voice. He didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him.
After talking for a few hours, I had calmed down enough that I told Scott to get some sleep. He was reluctant to leave me, so he took a nap in the chair. I grabbed my laptop and searched the web for anything related to what was happening to me.
There’re thousands of incidents across the world relating to haunted houses, demons, cults, and possessions, but none that was specific to the entity that was stalking me.
Every time I heard a sound, a car outside or a floorboard creek I jumped. I was a nervous wreck. I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I looked out of the window into the darkness, expecting to see it watching me. But it wasn’t.
I went back into the room, and –
IT WAS THERE!
I dropped the glass, and it shattered on the floor. Scott leaped from the chair.
“What, what is it?”
I couldn’t speak. My lips were glued shut. I slowly raised my hand and pointed at it. It was standing at the far end of the room. I kept my eyes on it the entire time. Scott rushed over to me.
“Hey, Chloe, there’s nothing their sweetheart, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real”.
He headed towards it.
“NO, SCOTT, PLEASE DON’T!” I pleaded, as I grabbed his arm.
He shrugged it off and marched over to it.
“There’s nothing here, I’m going to prove it to you” he said.
He cocked his arm back and swung his fist, only his arm stopped mid-swing.
HE HIT THE FUCKING CREATURE!
I moved to grab Scott and stood bare foot on the broken shards of glass, cutting my feet, I screamed out, and for a split second, I LOOKED DOWN.
And that’s all it took.
When I looked up, the creature had already grabbed Scott and folded him in half like a piece of paper. The sound of his spine breaking echoed through the room. Scott laid dead on the floor, his eyes widen open and looking at me.
I screamed and backed away into the kitchen. I slammed the door shut and ran to the rear door. It was locked and I’d left my keys in my bag in the front room. I noticed Scott’s cell on the countertop, so I grabbed it and ran down into the basement.
I shut the door and pushed the spare fridge in front of it. And then I hid in the corner. Crouched down beside the washing machine.
Which is where I am now. Hiding. Crying. I can’t call anyone because Scott’s cell doesn’t have a signal down here, which is why I’m recording this message on his cell in the hopes that someone will hear my story.
I can hear it now, moving around upstairs. It knows my eyes will be watching the door, so it’s looking for another way in. I’m so scared.
I’m the reason Scott’s dead. My true love. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. The thought of that is far worse than anything that monster can do to me.
Oh God, it’s here!
The old fucking laundry chute! Goddammit!
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!
It’s watching me with those horrifying yellow eyes.
I can’t keep running because it’ll find me.
And I won’t put anyone else in danger.
It’s me that it wants.
Scott I’m so sorry, I love you so much.
And Mom, I love you so much.
I’m going to close my eyes now.
Three.
Two.
One”
That’s it, that’s the recording. It’s very disturbing to me. If only you could hear her voice. She was terrified.
The police haven’t been back in contact as I write this, and I’m not expecting them too either.
The woman mentioned her mother in the recording, I might try and find her. Tell her what I've found, just in case the police don’t believe it.
submitted by GavinJohnWriter to nosleep [link] [comments]
It had been on the market for three-years, and I secured the house at a much cheaper price due to the fact that two people had been found murdered there.
The mystery and brutality of the murders catapulted the story into the local news. No specific details were released to the public, and I only found out about it because a friend of mine is a local realtor with connections.
Nobody was ever arrested for the murders. A male in his thirties was found in the living area, and a female in her thirties was found barricaded in the basement. Another mysterious fact was that the woman had barricaded herself in from the inside, in a desperate attempt to stop someone or something from getting in.
Yesterday whilst doing some cleaning in the basement, I came across a cell phone that had fallen down a gap behind the washing machine and the wall.
And there’s a voice recording on it.
Recorded the same night of the murders by the female victim. And, It’s pretty terrifying. I’ve already handed it into the police, but I made a transcript of the recording.
What you are about to read is the unedited transcript of the cell phone recording found in the basement.
I have to admit, it’s extremely disturbing. The desperation in her voice will haunt me forever.
Here goes.
“If you’re hearing this, please, please, please give it the police. My husband is dead, it killed him. I’m so sorry Scott.
I can hear it now, upstairs, looking for a way in, and it’s only a matter of time before it finds one.
I’ve barricaded myself in the basement and I’ve got my eyes on the only door, one way in one way our.
You see, it can’t move if you’re looking at it.
It began twelve weeks ago. The night Scott, my childhood sweetheart and husband of five-years confessed that he’d had a drunken one-night stand on his bachelor party in Europe. The apparent guilt had consumed him for the past five-years, and his sudden urge to be truthful was due to the fact we were due to get married this same year.
His words hit me like a freight train, and the urge to vomit washed over me like a tsunami. I stormed out of the house, our house that we’d bought together twelve-years prior. I felt like the world had swallowed me whole, and in a way, it had.
I was struck with a throbbing chest pain that rapidly spread down my entire right side. The pain intensified, taking my breath away, and I stumbled into a tree to steady myself as I felt my body about to faint.
Then darkness.
The next thing I remember, was waking up in a dark and dismal forest, devoid of colour. The air was dry and had a distinctive, malodorous smell, like rotten meat or that of a decaying carcass. But worst of all, was a terrifying feeling that I’d never experienced before, and one that I pray I’ll never feel again.
The feeling of absolute hopelessness.
The sky was dull and cloudless, and was ripped apart by soundless, ferocious lightning that illuminated the bleak landscape I found myself in. I felt like I’d been wandering for hours, maybe even days when I came across a decaying cave. Animal bones crushed beneath my feet as I made my way towards it.
As I approached the cave, the putrid smell grew with intensity causing me to retch, and I was violently sick, bringing up my own stomach bile. The entrance was made of crumbling stone and was completely opaque. I threw a small stone into it and heard it ricocheting down the stone steps and off the walls. The silenced lighting strobed the area, and I was able to glimpse into the cave and see a few descending steps.
Then, two yellow reptilian-like eyes flashed in the darkness.
I stumbled backwards, and just as the lightning struck, I was forcefully thrown by an unseen force. The lighting flashed continuously, accompanied by a gale-force wind, tossing me around like a rag doll. My eyes were fixed on the cave, and I crippled in terror, as a pale, gangly hand reached around the crumbling stone. Another flash hurled me hard against a tree, and suddenly -
I woke up in the back of an ambulance with paramedics hovering over me with a defibrillator, and two words that sent a cold and grotesque shiver through my spine.
“Welcome back”.
Welcome back? Back from where? What was that place? That thing in the cave? How long was I gone?
Hundreds of questions raced through my mind, but none of which I had the answer for.
Not yet anyway.
“You died in the back of that ambulance” the doctor said as I lay in a bed in the ICU.
The room tilted as I tried to digest what the doctor was telling me. I felt like I was in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. I’m thirty-years old, I eat healthily, and I run four times a week, how could this be happening to me?
My scans revealed I’d inherited a faulty gene and developed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and suffered a cardiac arrest. I spent the next seven-weeks in the ICU and told nobody of the dark forest and the creature with the yellow eyes. Just the thought of that place was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.
My mother practically moved into the hospital. Fussing over me like mothers do. She blamed herself for my condition, even though her scans were clear, meaning that I inherited the faulty gene from my absent father.
My husband Scott came on the first day, but I asked him for space. I needed some time to heal and process everything that had happened, about both my condition, and his infidelity. Although he kept that promise, he would call my mom every day to check on me, to make sure I was okay.
I wasn’t.
Not because of my condition, but for something else.
I’d started to see something.
I wasn’t sure what it was at first. It started as a tiny dot in my peripheral, nothing more than a spec on my retina. Of course, I had my eyes checked, but all results came back clear, as did the results for my visual cortex.
Days later, what started as a dot in my peripheral began to grow.
The first time I saw it, I was at my doctor’s office. He had left me alone for a moment whilst he consulted with my surgeon. It was dark outside and the sound of heavy rain pit-a-patting against the glass was hypnotic. I stared out of the window, watching as a small handful of people came in and out of the hospital.
Then, my eyes were drawn to an ominous silhouette at the far end of the parking lot. I couldn’t make out any distinguishing features due to the minimal light, but there was something there, standing deadly still in the shadows.
A car horn broke my reverie, a man was getting into his truck in the lot and must have pressed the horn by accident. I turned back to the silhouette, and it was in a completely different position.
It had moved.
It was standing eerily still again, but like it had frozen mid-walk. I could just about make out its elongated limbs, like it’s arms and legs had been stretched out.
The doctor returned momentarily, startling me. He’d gotten my scans, and everything was how it should be.
“Good news, you should be okay to be discharged in a few days” he said.
That was great news, I was so ready to get out of the hospital. I turned back to the window in curiosity, but whatever I saw had gone.
I didn’t think about it again until the night before I was going home. It was late and most of the patients were sleeping. My room is situated at the end of the hall, so I get a clear view of it through my observation window. I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep and was watching something on my iPad.
Suddenly, there was a putrid odour wafting in through my open door. The same unmistakable smell that I’d experienced in that ‘other place’. Two nurses walked past my room, neither showing any signs that they too could smell it. I covered my nose and mouth to try and stop me from heaving.
Then, my eyes drifted to the observation window, and to the corridor.
It was here again. The silhouette.
At the far end of the hall. Completely still, with its back pressed up against the wall. But I could see it. It was tall and skinny, and had either feelers or tentacles stretched up against the wall like an ink spill. Its daunting yellow eyes stared straight at me.
I saw another nurse walk up the hall and straight past it, like it wasn’t there. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe visual hallucinations were a symptom of what I’d been through, or maybe it was a side effect of the many meds I was taking. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there, it isn’t real” I whispered to myself.
I opened my eyes and, it hadn’t gone.
It had moved closer.
Halfway down the hall. It had dropped onto all fours like a large dog. Starring straight at me. Its long tentacles spread across the floor and up the wall.
I was absolutely petrified.
I moved over to the window, tentatively. The smell that resonated from this creature was overpowering. I watched it for a few moments, until a nurse walked past the window, startling me. And, like before, when I looked back, it wasn’t there. It was as though I’d imagined it. I climbed back into bed, but I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
The next morning, my mom came to pick me up. I left with a suitcase of medication and instructions on how and when to take them. I didn’t tell my mom or anyone at the hospital about my hallucinations. I was worried If I did say something, the doctors wouldn’t let me leave.
I had decided to stay at my mom’s until I was ready to talk with Scott. He brought a box over with some essentials, like my comfy clothes, pyjamas, and my own toothbrush as I’d been using a cheap store bought one up to now. He was sorry, and it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping. He said he’d wait for me until I was ready to talk. I missed both him and our home so much, but I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.
My mom suggested that I go into town, see the locals, get some fresh air into my lungs. She offered to drive me, and then we would meet back up at the car after an hour.
Whilst in town, I noticed a poster for the yearly travelling fairground in a storefront window. I have fond memories growing up of this fair. It’s where Scott and I shared our first kiss. We were halfway round the Ferris wheel, when it started to rain. He covered us with his jacket, and then he kissed me. This was the moment I knew I’d fallen in love with him. I was flooded with happy emotions, and it felt right that I text Scott.
“I’m ready to talk, I’ll be at the place where we shared our first kiss at 8 tonight, Chloe x”.
He replied almost instantly.
“I’ll be there, thank you x”.
After a quick smile to myself, I went for a walk through the local market. It was bustling with energy. Vendors selling local, fresh produce, handmade furniture, bakeries, and plenty more.
After browsing the stalls, I was hit with that smell. That horrific, nauseating smell. And I felt the hairs on my arms prickle up.
I knew it was here. Somewhere. Observing me.
My eyes narrowed as I scanned the area. I weaved in and out of the locals looking for it. Paranoia struck me like lightning. I was bumping into people as I went. All eyes had now turned to me. I burst into tears, sprinted back to the lot and leaped into my mother’s car.
I was sitting in the passenger seat crying my eyes out. I looked out of the window and saw my mother rushing back to the car shouting my name. Someone must have told her about my freak out.
I looked out of the opposite window and, IT WAS THERE, standing on top of a vehicle several cars over!
“GET AWAY FROM ME” I screamed.
My mother whipped open the door.
“What is it? What happened?” she replied.
She couldn’t see it. Nobody could. I told her that I’d had a panic attack. I hadn’t been around people outside of the hospital for a few months and I felt overwhelmed. She knew I wasn’t being truthful, but it’s the only answer I could give.
That night I decided to go ahead and meet Scott at the fair. When I saw him waiting for me by the Ferris wheel, my heart felt hole again, if only for a moment. We got our tokens and went on the wheel. We talked as we went round, about how sorry he was and how much of an idiot he’d been, which I agreed with.
Everything was going well until I saw the creature again. Standing on top of the ghost house attraction. Watching me.
I kept my eyes on the figure whilst grabbing Scott’s arm.
“Do you see it?” I asked with a shaky voice.
“See what?” he replied.
“It’s standing right there, on top of the ghost house”.
I could see him squinting to look, but I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be able to see it, because only I could.
“Sweetheart, there’s nobody there, look at me” he replied, calmly.
“I can’t” I said solemnly. “If I look away, it’ll move”.
“Chloe, look at me, there’s nothing there” he said, as he grabbed my chin and turned my face towards his.
“No! it’ll move, it wants me to look away” I screamed.
I quickly spun round, my eyes darting back to the ghost house, but it wasn’t there. I looked around, anxiously, Scott looking on with worry.
“Shit, where is it?” My anxiety palpable.
I looked down, and it was at the bottom of the Ferris wheel. It had moved inhumanly fast. I screamed and almost fell out of the carriage, but Scott held onto me.
“Hey, hey, I got you, what is it?” he said, desperately trying to keep hold of me.
I stood up in a panic, rocking the carriage, Scott tried to hang onto me, but it was too late, and I plummeted twenty feet to the ground.
The last thing I remember, was Scott screaming for an ambulance.
I was fortunate enough to only suffer a sprained wrist and a slight concussion. My doctor wanted to keep me in overnight for observations, which I reluctantly agreed to.
I decided to confide in Scott. I told him everything. From the cave in the forest to this creature that’s stalking me. This monstrous entity that must have crawled out of the pits of hell. And worst of all, it’s getting closer to me.
He could see that I was terrified, and instead of trying to explain away what I was experiencing, he just held me. And, for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. We spent hours just holding each other. He offered to stay the night, to stay awake in the chair whilst I got some sleep, but I couldn’t have him doing that.
After Scott left, I managed to get a few hours rest. I woke up just after two AM and grabbed my bottle of water from the nightstand. That’s when I noticed the door was closed, even though I specifically requested it to stay open.
And then, there was that horrendous smell. I knew it was close.
It was in the fucking room.
It was crouched down in the corner on all fours, blending into the darkness, watching me. I desperately tried to scream but no sound would come out.
Keeping my eyes on it, I slowly climbed out of the bed with my back pressed firmly against the wall. I knew it couldn’t move if I didn’t look away. I side-stepped along the wall towards the door.
I started to manoeuvre around a set of drawers, knocking something off that caught my eye for a millisecond. But that’s all it took. It was now standing on its two legs.
It must have been eight-feet tall with outstretched limbs. A streak of moonlight illuminated part of it’s pale-blue face. Its yellow eyes glistened in the light. Its slimy tentacles spread up the wall and onto the roof.
I kept my back to the wall and kept moving. I made it to the door, grabbed the door handle, but it was fucking locked. I kicked the door, but nobody could hear me.
I could see the key for the door on the table in my peripheral. I fumbled around on the table without looking. I grabbed everything but the key. I knew I had to look to find the key.
I quickly glanced to my left – Saw the key – Looked back, and the creature was point-blank in front of me. Reaching out for my throat, its black, curved talon had pierced my neck and blood trickled down.
Somehow, I managed to scream and within seconds two orderlies had barged through the door. All they found was me, alone with blood trickling down my neck. I barged straight past them and ran as fast as I could out of the hospital.
I ended up running all the way home. I banged as loud as I could on the door, forgetting that it was almost three-thirty in the morning. Scott answered the door in his pyjamas with a worried look plastered across his face.
I told him what had happened at the hospital whilst he bandaged my neck.
“See, this is proof that what I’m seeing is real, this is physical proof, you believe me, right, you have to?” I barked.
After a momentary pause, he replied:
“Yes, I believe you. I believe... I believe you’re seeing something”.
I registered the pause, and the hesitation in his voice. He didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him.
After talking for a few hours, I had calmed down enough that I told Scott to get some sleep. He was reluctant to leave me, so he took a nap in the chair. I grabbed my laptop and searched the web for anything related to what was happening to me.
There’re thousands of incidents across the world relating to haunted houses, demons, cults, and possessions, but none that was specific to the entity that was stalking me.
Every time I heard a sound, a car outside or a floorboard creek I jumped. I was a nervous wreck. I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I looked out of the window into the darkness, expecting to see it watching me. But it wasn’t.
I went back into the room, and –
IT WAS THERE!
I dropped the glass, and it shattered on the floor. Scott leaped from the chair.
“What, what is it?”
I couldn’t speak. My lips were glued shut. I slowly raised my hand and pointed at it. It was standing at the far end of the room. I kept my eyes on it the entire time. Scott rushed over to me.
“Hey, Chloe, there’s nothing their sweetheart, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real”.
He headed towards it.
“NO, SCOTT, PLEASE DON’T!” I pleaded, as I grabbed his arm.
He shrugged it off and marched over to it.
“There’s nothing here, I’m going to prove it to you” he said.
He cocked his arm back and swung his fist, only his arm stopped mid-swing.
HE HIT THE FUCKING CREATURE!
I moved to grab Scott and stood bare foot on the broken shards of glass, cutting my feet, I screamed out, and for a split second, I LOOKED DOWN.
And that’s all it took.
When I looked up, the creature had already grabbed Scott and folded him in half like a piece of paper. The sound of his spine breaking echoed through the room. Scott laid dead on the floor, his eyes widen open and looking at me.
I screamed and backed away into the kitchen. I slammed the door shut and ran to the rear door. It was locked and I’d left my keys in my bag in the front room. I noticed Scott’s cell on the countertop, so I grabbed it and ran down into the basement.
I shut the door and pushed the spare fridge in front of it. And then I hid in the corner. Crouched down beside the washing machine.
Which is where I am now. Hiding. Crying. I can’t call anyone because Scott’s cell doesn’t have a signal down here, which is why I’m recording this message on his cell in the hopes that someone will hear my story.
I can hear it now, moving around upstairs. It knows my eyes will be watching the door, so it’s looking for another way in. I’m so scared.
I’m the reason Scott’s dead. My true love. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. The thought of that is far worse than anything that monster can do to me.
Oh God, it’s here!
The old fucking laundry chute! Goddammit!
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!
It’s watching me with those horrifying yellow eyes.
I can’t keep running because it’ll find me.
And I won’t put anyone else in danger.
It’s me that it wants.
Scott I’m so sorry, I love you so much.
And Mom, I love you so much.
I’m going to close my eyes now.
Three.
Two.
One”
That’s it, that’s the recording. It’s very disturbing to me. If only you could hear her voice. She was terrified.
The police haven’t been back in contact as I write this, and I’m not expecting them too either.
The woman mentioned her mother in the recording, I might try and find her. Tell her what I've found, just in case the police don’t believe it.
2023.06.06 23:16 jaobodam I wish that I was working on a corporate job…
I honestly don’t know why people see corporate jobs as the worst punishment ever, I wish so much that I was working on one, with my schedule and no real expectations but having my salary
I’m studying to become a dentist and my relationship with my course is very bipolar and on the rocks, some days I wake up and I love what I’m doing and have hunger for knowledge, the other days I have panic attacks saying “I can’t be responsible for a person’s life ! I do wanna be in the boss chair”
I simply just want a calm life, with my schedules and repetitive behaviour “organise these files ? NO PROBLEM”, sometimes I just want to live a life without any expectations or obligations, where I’m almost an inanimate object and not a person, just following what others ask me to do because I suck at decision making
submitted by jaobodam to autism [link] [comments]
I’m studying to become a dentist and my relationship with my course is very bipolar and on the rocks, some days I wake up and I love what I’m doing and have hunger for knowledge, the other days I have panic attacks saying “I can’t be responsible for a person’s life ! I do wanna be in the boss chair”
I simply just want a calm life, with my schedules and repetitive behaviour “organise these files ? NO PROBLEM”, sometimes I just want to live a life without any expectations or obligations, where I’m almost an inanimate object and not a person, just following what others ask me to do because I suck at decision making
2023.06.06 23:08 Glass48 Antique chair repair recco?
I have an old chair that has a cane seat that’s broken. Really would like to get it repaired. Anyone local that can do it ? Thanks
submitted by Glass48 to Bend [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 22:36 joe_mamasaurus Patio chair seat
 | I have some old, near antique, patio chairs. The original seat padding and upholstery is shot. What would be my best option for replacing the seat? submitted by joe_mamasaurus to woodworking [link] [comments] |
2023.06.06 22:22 darksloth05 Well that escalated quickly…
TLDR; I wanted to do some casual gaming on a Frankenstein PC build, and within 2 weeks my office has become a sim racing dojo.
After trolling Reddit for years, I’ve found something I am interested and “proud” enough to post about. So here it goes -
I've recently gotten into sim racing. While I am a noob and have a lot to learn, I have learned a lot in a short time so far, and am enjoying just being immersed into a hobby, both while doing it and doing "for" it. I have learned to research a lot, spend $$$ where you need to, and DIY where you can. I'm not looking to be competitive or beat the Joneses, rather just have a fun experience where I can turn off the world and feel like I am somewhere else by sight, feel, and sound. Hopefully this post is inspiring to others, educational, reminiscent of your beginnings, or just a fun read. I would also be interested to know your thoughts on my setup. Did I do it right/wrong? What would have been a better decision/route? What can I do for the next big thing?
I built my first and only PC close to 10 years ago and played shooter games/GTA. It’s long since gone and I’ve been wanting to get another “lazy” hobby.
I had an old HP PC lying around I got off eBay about a year ago. Decided to buy a high-end GPU and do some casual gaming on it. Wanted to do 4k so went ahead and got a used rtx 3090 on eBay for $700 shipped. I knew the CPU would be the bottleneck if I really wanted to push things eventually (i7-7700) but decided the build was enough for what I was wanting for now. Well… I have always been interested in cars and within the past 2 years, more interested in Formula 1 (thanks Drive to Survive). I got an old Xbox controller and loaded up steam/F1 22 and was pretty intrigued by how fun it was just using my thumbs lol. I decided I would go ahead and get a wheel/pedal combo to see HOW much more fun it could possibly be… whoops…
I got the Logitech G923 and was delighted with the novel sense of "driving" for the first time. I decided to keep looking at other ways to make the experience more "complete" as I was sitting in a dining chair, had my wheel clamped to a sliding keyboard drawer, and had my 38in ultrawide as close to the wheel as possible. Seeing as I did not want to upgrade my monitor, I figured it would be a great time to try VR for the first time. I had always wanted to wait until VR was a little more mature and I wasn't in a grainy, cartoon world. I read great things about the implementation in sim titles and started doing my research on which headset to go with.
HP Reverb G2 v2 (even despite the WMR situation) seemed to be the way to go in regard to visual fidelity and price point, so again... I found a really great deal on eBay for about $290.
Side note - At this point, I had already saved up birthday, Christmas, and other fun monies, so I felt ok with making some additional purchases (the GPU was planned and saved for aside from subsequent items in this post).
Well... first time ever in VR and my mind was blown. I was instantly hooked. I have played all sorts of racing games in the past, but I have never in my life felt so immersed into a game, even thinking back to my childhood days of Zelda OoT- different genre, but same concept. Back to racing... The spatial awareness and depth perception of racing in a different world made any prior racing game/sim experience obsolete to me. I knew I could not go back to a monitor, at least as my primary way. The only problem was that my Frankenstein PC came back to bite me much sooner than I had wanted. The CPU was choking the GPU. I would get 60-70 FPS but even worse, so much stuttering and inconsistent FPS. So... I decided if I really wanted to go any further, I had to take care of this before anything else.
I ended up building a new PC while salvaging what I could from my current build. I added a Gigabyte z690 MB, i7-12700k, Dark Rock Pro 4 cooler, and Antec FT1 case- all AW deals excluding a new i7 for $250 shipped. Once I got it all together, smooth 90 FPS all the way.
During the same time of the VR experience and PC build, I knew I wanted a cockpit/rig, but could not swallow the price tag in order to do it right. Well, I started woodworking last year, and have built a few furniture items for my house, so I figured I could give the DIY route a try- I just didn't want something that was sketchy or an eye sore. I studied lots of different consumer rigs as well as other DIY builds, and I ended up jotting down some dimensions and forms I thought would work and just started building- making decisions/changes as I went. I found some scrap wood on the side of the road in 2 different instances. Used some black paint left over from painting a few walls in our house, put together what I thought to be a pretty decent rig. During all of this, I still did not have a seat... another pricey purchase I just didn't want to swallow. I also did not want to have a crappy looking junkyard car seat on my rig in hopes of avoiding the aforementioned eye sore. I eventually said to myself, "just go look," so I went to the junkyard one random day. Low and behold, not even a week earlier, a 2009 Audi TT had been delivered to the lot with 2 pristine front seats. What I was sure to be a bust ended up being the best part of my rig. I brought home both seats (bc why not?), cut the seat belts, wires, etc; cleaned them, and got one mounted on my rig- $25 of bliss. I would have hated myself if I had ended up sinking so much $$$ into a seat, let alone a rig. Between the rig and seat, I spent less than $50. Super solid, compact, and fits my needs exactly.
Around this time, I also decide to go ahead and build out a triple monitor setup.. Yes I know... VR is king... never go back... yaddie yah yah. However, I have 2 little babies, friends, family, etc. who I want to share this with and I am sure there will be times I don't want to wear the VR headset. All that in consideration, and the fact I already have 2 matching 27in 1440p monitors, and a triple monitor mount, it was a no-brainer to me. I got a third monitor (thanks eBay) for $100 and picked up 3x 2x4x8's from Lowes. Painted it black and it's now part of the sim corner of my office lol.
So now I have a pretty slick cockpit with triple monitors that I can move forward and backward separate from my rig. As my setup has matured from the start(literally the span of 2 weeks time), the experience has been more and more enjoyable. The only problem I have remaining is the G923. While it was a great first time experience, the "realness" of it quickly went away and it felt like a toy. On top of that, it was a loud wheel- annoyingly loud. Well... I've done everything else... might as well just get a direct drive and have a complete, all around experience.
After much research and deliberation on what to buy, where to buy, when to buy, etc. I decided on a Moza R9, SRP Pedals, and GS v2 wheel. Side note - Thanks to u/neebsd whose post told me exactly what I needed to know for my wheel/base, pedal decision! Being brand new with little experience, I wanted to know what it was like to go from a G923 to Moza r9 and his post sealed it for me.
I went back and forth on getting a Moza r5... also whether to get an ES wheel with a formula mod paired with the R9. At the end of the day, I was worried the r5 would be too little for me (I think I was right and am VERY happy I went with the r9) and that the ES wheel, while cost effective ($500 for a wheel???) would leave me wishing I did a nicer wheel for both form factor and quality of materials/feel.
So here I am today, a little delayed on my post, but not even a month later and I am VERY happy with all of my decisions. I can usually find things I wish I had done differently, either regret or just "meh, if I could do it again" feeling, but I am 100% happy with all of my decisions along the way. Whereas I spent some cash for a wheelbase/wheel, and pedals, new PC components, a VR headset, etc., I am proud of how I saved at least $800 on a good(relative) cockpit/seat combo and instead leveraged recent new found skills and somebody else's trash.
And of course... so much fun actually enjoying this new hobby.
Pics (or it didn't happen) - https://imgur.com/gallery/vNdGbYY
submitted by darksloth05 to simracing [link] [comments]
After trolling Reddit for years, I’ve found something I am interested and “proud” enough to post about. So here it goes -
I've recently gotten into sim racing. While I am a noob and have a lot to learn, I have learned a lot in a short time so far, and am enjoying just being immersed into a hobby, both while doing it and doing "for" it. I have learned to research a lot, spend $$$ where you need to, and DIY where you can. I'm not looking to be competitive or beat the Joneses, rather just have a fun experience where I can turn off the world and feel like I am somewhere else by sight, feel, and sound. Hopefully this post is inspiring to others, educational, reminiscent of your beginnings, or just a fun read. I would also be interested to know your thoughts on my setup. Did I do it right/wrong? What would have been a better decision/route? What can I do for the next big thing?
I built my first and only PC close to 10 years ago and played shooter games/GTA. It’s long since gone and I’ve been wanting to get another “lazy” hobby.
I had an old HP PC lying around I got off eBay about a year ago. Decided to buy a high-end GPU and do some casual gaming on it. Wanted to do 4k so went ahead and got a used rtx 3090 on eBay for $700 shipped. I knew the CPU would be the bottleneck if I really wanted to push things eventually (i7-7700) but decided the build was enough for what I was wanting for now. Well… I have always been interested in cars and within the past 2 years, more interested in Formula 1 (thanks Drive to Survive). I got an old Xbox controller and loaded up steam/F1 22 and was pretty intrigued by how fun it was just using my thumbs lol. I decided I would go ahead and get a wheel/pedal combo to see HOW much more fun it could possibly be… whoops…
I got the Logitech G923 and was delighted with the novel sense of "driving" for the first time. I decided to keep looking at other ways to make the experience more "complete" as I was sitting in a dining chair, had my wheel clamped to a sliding keyboard drawer, and had my 38in ultrawide as close to the wheel as possible. Seeing as I did not want to upgrade my monitor, I figured it would be a great time to try VR for the first time. I had always wanted to wait until VR was a little more mature and I wasn't in a grainy, cartoon world. I read great things about the implementation in sim titles and started doing my research on which headset to go with.
HP Reverb G2 v2 (even despite the WMR situation) seemed to be the way to go in regard to visual fidelity and price point, so again... I found a really great deal on eBay for about $290.
Side note - At this point, I had already saved up birthday, Christmas, and other fun monies, so I felt ok with making some additional purchases (the GPU was planned and saved for aside from subsequent items in this post).
Well... first time ever in VR and my mind was blown. I was instantly hooked. I have played all sorts of racing games in the past, but I have never in my life felt so immersed into a game, even thinking back to my childhood days of Zelda OoT- different genre, but same concept. Back to racing... The spatial awareness and depth perception of racing in a different world made any prior racing game/sim experience obsolete to me. I knew I could not go back to a monitor, at least as my primary way. The only problem was that my Frankenstein PC came back to bite me much sooner than I had wanted. The CPU was choking the GPU. I would get 60-70 FPS but even worse, so much stuttering and inconsistent FPS. So... I decided if I really wanted to go any further, I had to take care of this before anything else.
I ended up building a new PC while salvaging what I could from my current build. I added a Gigabyte z690 MB, i7-12700k, Dark Rock Pro 4 cooler, and Antec FT1 case- all AW deals excluding a new i7 for $250 shipped. Once I got it all together, smooth 90 FPS all the way.
During the same time of the VR experience and PC build, I knew I wanted a cockpit/rig, but could not swallow the price tag in order to do it right. Well, I started woodworking last year, and have built a few furniture items for my house, so I figured I could give the DIY route a try- I just didn't want something that was sketchy or an eye sore. I studied lots of different consumer rigs as well as other DIY builds, and I ended up jotting down some dimensions and forms I thought would work and just started building- making decisions/changes as I went. I found some scrap wood on the side of the road in 2 different instances. Used some black paint left over from painting a few walls in our house, put together what I thought to be a pretty decent rig. During all of this, I still did not have a seat... another pricey purchase I just didn't want to swallow. I also did not want to have a crappy looking junkyard car seat on my rig in hopes of avoiding the aforementioned eye sore. I eventually said to myself, "just go look," so I went to the junkyard one random day. Low and behold, not even a week earlier, a 2009 Audi TT had been delivered to the lot with 2 pristine front seats. What I was sure to be a bust ended up being the best part of my rig. I brought home both seats (bc why not?), cut the seat belts, wires, etc; cleaned them, and got one mounted on my rig- $25 of bliss. I would have hated myself if I had ended up sinking so much $$$ into a seat, let alone a rig. Between the rig and seat, I spent less than $50. Super solid, compact, and fits my needs exactly.
Around this time, I also decide to go ahead and build out a triple monitor setup.. Yes I know... VR is king... never go back... yaddie yah yah. However, I have 2 little babies, friends, family, etc. who I want to share this with and I am sure there will be times I don't want to wear the VR headset. All that in consideration, and the fact I already have 2 matching 27in 1440p monitors, and a triple monitor mount, it was a no-brainer to me. I got a third monitor (thanks eBay) for $100 and picked up 3x 2x4x8's from Lowes. Painted it black and it's now part of the sim corner of my office lol.
So now I have a pretty slick cockpit with triple monitors that I can move forward and backward separate from my rig. As my setup has matured from the start(literally the span of 2 weeks time), the experience has been more and more enjoyable. The only problem I have remaining is the G923. While it was a great first time experience, the "realness" of it quickly went away and it felt like a toy. On top of that, it was a loud wheel- annoyingly loud. Well... I've done everything else... might as well just get a direct drive and have a complete, all around experience.
After much research and deliberation on what to buy, where to buy, when to buy, etc. I decided on a Moza R9, SRP Pedals, and GS v2 wheel. Side note - Thanks to u/neebsd whose post told me exactly what I needed to know for my wheel/base, pedal decision! Being brand new with little experience, I wanted to know what it was like to go from a G923 to Moza r9 and his post sealed it for me.
I went back and forth on getting a Moza r5... also whether to get an ES wheel with a formula mod paired with the R9. At the end of the day, I was worried the r5 would be too little for me (I think I was right and am VERY happy I went with the r9) and that the ES wheel, while cost effective ($500 for a wheel???) would leave me wishing I did a nicer wheel for both form factor and quality of materials/feel.
So here I am today, a little delayed on my post, but not even a month later and I am VERY happy with all of my decisions. I can usually find things I wish I had done differently, either regret or just "meh, if I could do it again" feeling, but I am 100% happy with all of my decisions along the way. Whereas I spent some cash for a wheelbase/wheel, and pedals, new PC components, a VR headset, etc., I am proud of how I saved at least $800 on a good(relative) cockpit/seat combo and instead leveraged recent new found skills and somebody else's trash.
And of course... so much fun actually enjoying this new hobby.
Pics (or it didn't happen) - https://imgur.com/gallery/vNdGbYY
2023.06.06 22:09 Big-Reality-6385 ISO sensory/dinosaur garden supplie
 | Ask: sensory/dinosaur garden supplies. submitted by Big-Reality-6385 to SacramentoBuyNothing [link] [comments] Looking for these specifically but any garden supplies are appreciated! -planters,pots, nursery pots (all sizes) -starter plants -Japanese maple trees/saplings -ferns -moss -elephant ears/taro -sand, soil mediums, small rocks,ect. -ground covers -wine crates -citronella plants -small fountain/water feature supplies -kid garden tools. Thanks in Advance |
2023.06.06 22:07 Issac_E234 Azur Waves, Chapter 28 (part 2)
Previous, first, next,
Fanfiction.
Chapter 28 cont;
Working at sea had made me buy a coat specifically designed for the more extreme types of weather, but with its age and my short stint in the Irish sea the efficacy of the wax coating had all but vanished, after only taking a few steps I felt the water beginning to seep through. Putting aside the chill that came with wearing wet clothes I made my way along the deck until I found the cruiser.
She wasn't particularly difficult to find. Her cherry blond hair and pure white cape made it easy to spot her against the greys of the ship and sky. Her head was tilted upward with her eyes closed. She held Montpelier’s cube in her arms letting the rain fall on it. She must have noticed me coming, for she opened her eyes and looked over to me as I approached.
“Hey.” She greeted, her tone completely neutral and with a distinctive lack of the boyish bravado I had heard before. Her hair and all of her clothes were absolutely drenched yet she didn't seem to care.
“Hey. How are you holding up?” I awkwardly replied.
“Fine, I guess.” Cleveland replied, looking down at the cube and affectionately rubbing it with her thumb. “I’ve had this body for half a year now. Yet this is the first time I've ever felt the rain.”
“And how are you finding it?”
“Cold and wet.” She lifted her head up once again, letting the rain splash against her face. “But it is kinda nice. The sound against the deck and sea is rather pleasant.”
“You should try listening to it near a forest or field, especially during spring. I used to listen to it all the time back home.” Memories of countless days back home sitting in the study with the window open reading book after book while it rained outside surfaced.
“Guess that stereotype holds true then, eh?” There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “Monty always enjoyed the quiet time we had together.”
My eyes were drawn to the cube in her hands. “May I?”
There was a moment of reticence before she slowly offered the cube to me. “Please, be careful.”
“I will, I promise.” I carefully took the item from Cleveland, taking it into my hands as delicately as I could. The dull crystal felt cold to my touch, and it wasn’t only due to the rain. I slowly rotated it in my fingers, hoping for something, anything that would show a sign of activity within, yet my mind didn’t become awash with random thoughts or feelings; it felt like nothing more than mundane glass in my hands.
The guilt was piling up again. “I can't begin to express how sorry I am. We should have acted sooner.”
Cleveland looked at her hand while she flexed her fingers, but her eyes never left the cube. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all that you could, and even took a great risk for complete strangers. It's me who is to blame for not being there for her. For leaving her behind.”
“But I will not fail her again.” She continued, confidence returning to her voice and posture. “I know within my heart that we will be reunited one day.” She ran a hand along the silver streak in her hair.
“If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you touched your sister's ship? For a moment it looked like you had two riggings.” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“I don't really know what or how I did it, I just couldn't let her ship fall apart like that. However, now it seems like I can have both my and her rigging.” She waved a hand out to sea where a Cruiser sailed alongside the battleship. And with a flash of light her rigging appeared. “It's uncomfortable having both at the same time to say the least, but like this it's not too bad.”
“Well you can keep her ship safe for her.” I carefully held out the cube for her to take back. “If there's one thing I've learned in the time I've spent around you girls is that anything is possible.”
“Thanks.” She took the cube back. “Not just for saying that, but for everything you and your crew have done. It's heartening to know there's at least one person out there looking out for us.” Cleveland rocked on her heels. “If it's alright with you, may I hang around with you guys for a bit? I don't really have anywhere else to go and being part of a fleet sounds nice.”
“There will always be a place for you in this fleet, Cleveland. For you and any other ship that wishes to join us.” I offered my hand. “No strings attached, if you don't wish to fight or follow orders then you can just wait out any fight onboard a ship”
Cleveland gave a toothy smile. “I won’t be no slacker. I'll earn my keep just as much as any other girl. You can depend on our six inch guns.” I paid attention to her eyes when she took my hand. Now there was the distinct blue glow for less than a second in her right eye, something that had happened before with other girls. Cleveland seemed to relax slightly after the exchange, but I could still see weariness in her.
She tilted her head up to the sky. “Man, it's really coming down now. We should head back inside.” Cleveland took one more pensive look at her ship before walking inside.
The water dripping from our clothes echoed inside the ship as we walked. We came upon a junction where we would go down different paths, and Cleveland paused to speak, rubbing the brooch on her cape once again. “James… About what you did. I know it probably isn't right to say, but thank you. If anyone deserved such a fate, it was him. So you ever need anything from me, no matter what it is I will do it.”
“Uh, thanks.” I replied, unable to think of something meaningful to say. The idea of being thanked for what I did was hard to comprehend, but the gratitude I saw in the cruiser's face helped ease the turmoil within.
That gratitude was also disturbing somehow.
–
I decided to return to my cabin with my drenched self and next to no desire to eat. I changed out of the wet raincoat and inner clothes and sat down on my bed, contemplating what to do. With how exhausted I felt sleep would probably come easily but I knew without a doubt it would be anything but peaceful.
There was the option of finishing off the bottle under my bed, but while it would help it’d only be pushing the problem aside temporarily, and I didn’t want Warspite or worse, Javelin or Z23 see me in that state. I continued mulling over my options until the daylight disappeared completely. Just as I was about to risk a night's sleep there and there came a gentle knocking at my door.
With a sigh, I got up and opened the door. I was greeted with the warm and dignified visage of Hood standing on the other side, with several books held under her arm and lips curled into a smile when our eyes met.
“Ah good,” her eyes moved to the empty tray still left at the side. “I see you enjoyed your lunch. May I come in?”
Hood had been the one to leave that try outside my door, even after how I had snapped at her, now I just felt even more guilty.
I stepped aside and waved her in. “Please.”
The battlecruiser walked into the small cabin with a familiar scent of lavender trailing behind her. She placed her books down on the small table while inquisitively looking around the room. I soon wished I had cleaned it.
I gulped when her eyes spotted the bottle under my bed. She didn’t say anything about it, but laid dead still, keeping an inscrutable smile. She lingered on it for a moment then returned her attention to me, taking off the glove of her right hand in the process. She gestured to come closer with one of her revealed fingers. “Come here.”
The very instant I closed the distance, I received a slap for the second time today, faster than I could react as well.
“I deserved that.” I sputtered gracelessly, rubbing my swollen cheek. She didn’t hit me as hard as Warspite had, but it had been the same side and reignited the sting from earlier.
“I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a manner, not from you nor anyone else. Not now, not ever.” Hood folded her arm and raised her nose curtly, her face a scowl of indignation. “No matter what you went through, to threaten one of us with an order of that kind goes against everything you stand for, and if you ever begin to stray again a slap will be the least of your problems, James.”
I looked down, misery once more coming afloat.
With her fury vented, Hood's posture relaxed and she looked at me more caringly. She put on her glove again. “James. I–we only desire to be of service to you in any way we can. You need not suffer alone. You don’t have to suffer alone, nothing good will come of it. Which is why I am here now.”
She carefully sat down on the small chair in the room, ensuring her large skirt didn’t get caught or creased.
“I don’t understand?”
She smiled with dignity. “My cabin is directly next to yours. And the walls are naught but a thin sheet of metal. I know you regularly awaken suddenly in the night from being disturbed in your sleep, so I'm here to ensure you get a proper night's rest.” She waved to the pile of books and the bed. “Don’t worry about me, I will keep myself occupied.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she quickly cut me off. “There will be no negotiation, you assisted me when I struggled to sleep and now I shall do the same. Now get yourself ready for bed, I will close my eyes.” She leaned back and shut her eyes.
Knowing there was no point in arguing, I removed both my shirt and trousers and laid myself down in bed. My face felt warm at the idea of Hood sitting by me while I slept, enough to overpower the last bits of lingering pain from the slap, but exhaustion hit me like a train the moment I laid down.
Hood reopened her eyes with the slightest bit of a blush of her own. “Good, now you just relax and I will be here if you need me.” Hood reached down and grabbed the bottle. “Honestly, I don’t understand your reasoning behind seeking comfort in this instead of getting it from a beautiful lady.” She opened the bottle and took a rather large swig.
“Don’t know where I could find the latter.” I mumbled.
“I am not ignorant of how I look, nor am I to your wandering gaze.” She quipped with a coy smile. “Now enough chitchat, it’s time for you to rest. That is unless you want me to read for you?”
“Fine, fine. Have it your way.” I said, resting my head down and shutting my eyes. It took a while to get over the nerves of having Hood sitting beside me, but the occasional flip of a page became a pleasant background noise that helped lull me to sleep.
—
Warspite sat in her captain’s chair, resting her head in her arm as she wracked her brain. She rocked her head back with a groan once more. “Why did you have to go and hit him, Warspite? You bloody stupid ship.”
She didn’t know why she had such a rush of emotions when he spoke and acted without thinking before bawling like an infant. Why is it now that just his presence is enough to throw her whits into a loop, yet she couldn’t wait until he was sitting in this chair with her at his side again?
“Things were easier when I wanted naught but to throw him overboard.” She sighed.
Another issue came to her mind, something she had brought back from the facility, not the notebook; that could remain safely locked away until she was sure her opinion of humans wouldn’t worsen even more. This was something else, something she wished she had never even touched and just left it where it lay, for what it meant made her sick.
Someone approached her bridge, Warspite quickly brushed aside her thoughts and tried to figure out who it was. She was unsuccessful at figuring out who it was but when the door had opened she quickly dropped to her knee.
“Good evening, your Majesty.”
Elizabeth smiled and walked onto the bridge. “There will never be a day where thou need to kneel upon thy own bridge. Stand, my dear Warspite.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” The battleship stood back up. “How was your rest? I hope the rain was not too distracting.” Warspite offered the captain's chair to Elizabeth for her to sit. But the tiny Queen remained standing.
After surveying the surrounding sea Elizabeth turned to her sister. “T’was most pleasant. How did things fare while I rested? Did you speak to our Commander about the book?”
“Ah, well.” Warspite scratched her head. “He gave me the same answer as you, your Majesty. I will wait until Cleveland is in a better condition and ask her permission to read it.”
Elizabeth brought a hand to her chin, noticing the small movements and fidgeting her sister was still doing. “Yet something troubles you still. Is it anything I could be of assistance with?”
Warspite sighed and dropped her shoulders. “May I ask for your assistance in something, not as my queen but as my sister?”
The Queen nodded with a soft smile. “I will always be your big sister before I am your Queen, Warspite. What is it you wish to confide in me with?”
“One second.” She replied before walking off into a small secondary inner communications room connected to the bridge, its purpose made redundant by her being able to control the ship completely no matter where she was. But inside a small cabinet was an inconspicuous rag that hid the source of her problems. She returned to the bridge with the item in hand.
“The notepad wasn't the only thing I grabbed before leaving.” She spoke as she walked over. “When James…” Warspite paused as she relived the memory. “When he shot that wretched man he dropped his gun.”
Peeling back the rag she showed Elizabeth the firearm. “There had been something about the sound it made when it fell that made me curious. I could tell you, but I think it's better for you to see for yourself.”
She offered the gun to her sister cautiously. Elizabeth took the firearm into her hand, instantly finding herself being able to handle it like she had trained with it for decades. Her brow furrowed as she noticed something was off about it.
“It can't be.” She pressed down on the magazine release to confirm her suspicion. “It's… empty?” Elizabeth was dumbfounded at the empty magazine. “Did you unload it?”
Warspite sighed and shook her head. “Unfortunately no. This is how it was, so technically…”
“James was never in any real danger.” Elizabeth finished, remembering what Warspite had told her of the exchange when they had returned.
“And that's the problem, I know James would want me to be honest to him. But what he did is tearing him apart inside, this would only make things worse.” She looked in the general direction of where his cabin would be. “I’m perplexed, Elizabeth. I’m sorry for dropping this on you, but what should I do?”
The Queen was silent for a while. Her gaze was distant as she thought over the problem until her smile returned and she returned the gun to her sister. “You should throw this in the ocean and forget about it. He put a gun against our James’ head. Loaded or not, James acted accordingly.”
Warspite looked at the gun and nodded. “I should have clocked it.”
An arm rested against her shoulder. “The past is filled with should haves and would haves, Warspite. If we were able to go back and change things then a lot of disasters could have been avoided.” Elizabeth felt the echoes of a memory come to mind, of a beach too steep to climb and an ocean filled with blood. “But we can't change them, so we must learn, grow stronger and soldier onward.”
The two sisters embraced one another in a hug for a long time until eventually breaking and retiring for the night. But not before the old warship went and threw the gun overboard, cursing the name of its deceased owner as she did, hoping the seas would swallow one more secret, never to resurface again.
(A/N) once again I ended up seeing this chapter getting longer and longer, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and look forward to the next, it should be coming soon as at the time of posting this the next chapter is already about halfway done.
submitted by Issac_E234 to AzureLane [link] [comments]
Fanfiction.
Chapter 28 cont;
Working at sea had made me buy a coat specifically designed for the more extreme types of weather, but with its age and my short stint in the Irish sea the efficacy of the wax coating had all but vanished, after only taking a few steps I felt the water beginning to seep through. Putting aside the chill that came with wearing wet clothes I made my way along the deck until I found the cruiser.
She wasn't particularly difficult to find. Her cherry blond hair and pure white cape made it easy to spot her against the greys of the ship and sky. Her head was tilted upward with her eyes closed. She held Montpelier’s cube in her arms letting the rain fall on it. She must have noticed me coming, for she opened her eyes and looked over to me as I approached.
“Hey.” She greeted, her tone completely neutral and with a distinctive lack of the boyish bravado I had heard before. Her hair and all of her clothes were absolutely drenched yet she didn't seem to care.
“Hey. How are you holding up?” I awkwardly replied.
“Fine, I guess.” Cleveland replied, looking down at the cube and affectionately rubbing it with her thumb. “I’ve had this body for half a year now. Yet this is the first time I've ever felt the rain.”
“And how are you finding it?”
“Cold and wet.” She lifted her head up once again, letting the rain splash against her face. “But it is kinda nice. The sound against the deck and sea is rather pleasant.”
“You should try listening to it near a forest or field, especially during spring. I used to listen to it all the time back home.” Memories of countless days back home sitting in the study with the window open reading book after book while it rained outside surfaced.
“Guess that stereotype holds true then, eh?” There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “Monty always enjoyed the quiet time we had together.”
My eyes were drawn to the cube in her hands. “May I?”
There was a moment of reticence before she slowly offered the cube to me. “Please, be careful.”
“I will, I promise.” I carefully took the item from Cleveland, taking it into my hands as delicately as I could. The dull crystal felt cold to my touch, and it wasn’t only due to the rain. I slowly rotated it in my fingers, hoping for something, anything that would show a sign of activity within, yet my mind didn’t become awash with random thoughts or feelings; it felt like nothing more than mundane glass in my hands.
The guilt was piling up again. “I can't begin to express how sorry I am. We should have acted sooner.”
Cleveland looked at her hand while she flexed her fingers, but her eyes never left the cube. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all that you could, and even took a great risk for complete strangers. It's me who is to blame for not being there for her. For leaving her behind.”
“But I will not fail her again.” She continued, confidence returning to her voice and posture. “I know within my heart that we will be reunited one day.” She ran a hand along the silver streak in her hair.
“If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you touched your sister's ship? For a moment it looked like you had two riggings.” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“I don't really know what or how I did it, I just couldn't let her ship fall apart like that. However, now it seems like I can have both my and her rigging.” She waved a hand out to sea where a Cruiser sailed alongside the battleship. And with a flash of light her rigging appeared. “It's uncomfortable having both at the same time to say the least, but like this it's not too bad.”
“Well you can keep her ship safe for her.” I carefully held out the cube for her to take back. “If there's one thing I've learned in the time I've spent around you girls is that anything is possible.”
“Thanks.” She took the cube back. “Not just for saying that, but for everything you and your crew have done. It's heartening to know there's at least one person out there looking out for us.” Cleveland rocked on her heels. “If it's alright with you, may I hang around with you guys for a bit? I don't really have anywhere else to go and being part of a fleet sounds nice.”
“There will always be a place for you in this fleet, Cleveland. For you and any other ship that wishes to join us.” I offered my hand. “No strings attached, if you don't wish to fight or follow orders then you can just wait out any fight onboard a ship”
Cleveland gave a toothy smile. “I won’t be no slacker. I'll earn my keep just as much as any other girl. You can depend on our six inch guns.” I paid attention to her eyes when she took my hand. Now there was the distinct blue glow for less than a second in her right eye, something that had happened before with other girls. Cleveland seemed to relax slightly after the exchange, but I could still see weariness in her.
She tilted her head up to the sky. “Man, it's really coming down now. We should head back inside.” Cleveland took one more pensive look at her ship before walking inside.
The water dripping from our clothes echoed inside the ship as we walked. We came upon a junction where we would go down different paths, and Cleveland paused to speak, rubbing the brooch on her cape once again. “James… About what you did. I know it probably isn't right to say, but thank you. If anyone deserved such a fate, it was him. So you ever need anything from me, no matter what it is I will do it.”
“Uh, thanks.” I replied, unable to think of something meaningful to say. The idea of being thanked for what I did was hard to comprehend, but the gratitude I saw in the cruiser's face helped ease the turmoil within.
That gratitude was also disturbing somehow.
–
I decided to return to my cabin with my drenched self and next to no desire to eat. I changed out of the wet raincoat and inner clothes and sat down on my bed, contemplating what to do. With how exhausted I felt sleep would probably come easily but I knew without a doubt it would be anything but peaceful.
There was the option of finishing off the bottle under my bed, but while it would help it’d only be pushing the problem aside temporarily, and I didn’t want Warspite or worse, Javelin or Z23 see me in that state. I continued mulling over my options until the daylight disappeared completely. Just as I was about to risk a night's sleep there and there came a gentle knocking at my door.
With a sigh, I got up and opened the door. I was greeted with the warm and dignified visage of Hood standing on the other side, with several books held under her arm and lips curled into a smile when our eyes met.
“Ah good,” her eyes moved to the empty tray still left at the side. “I see you enjoyed your lunch. May I come in?”
Hood had been the one to leave that try outside my door, even after how I had snapped at her, now I just felt even more guilty.
I stepped aside and waved her in. “Please.”
The battlecruiser walked into the small cabin with a familiar scent of lavender trailing behind her. She placed her books down on the small table while inquisitively looking around the room. I soon wished I had cleaned it.
I gulped when her eyes spotted the bottle under my bed. She didn’t say anything about it, but laid dead still, keeping an inscrutable smile. She lingered on it for a moment then returned her attention to me, taking off the glove of her right hand in the process. She gestured to come closer with one of her revealed fingers. “Come here.”
The very instant I closed the distance, I received a slap for the second time today, faster than I could react as well.
“I deserved that.” I sputtered gracelessly, rubbing my swollen cheek. She didn’t hit me as hard as Warspite had, but it had been the same side and reignited the sting from earlier.
“I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a manner, not from you nor anyone else. Not now, not ever.” Hood folded her arm and raised her nose curtly, her face a scowl of indignation. “No matter what you went through, to threaten one of us with an order of that kind goes against everything you stand for, and if you ever begin to stray again a slap will be the least of your problems, James.”
I looked down, misery once more coming afloat.
With her fury vented, Hood's posture relaxed and she looked at me more caringly. She put on her glove again. “James. I–we only desire to be of service to you in any way we can. You need not suffer alone. You don’t have to suffer alone, nothing good will come of it. Which is why I am here now.”
She carefully sat down on the small chair in the room, ensuring her large skirt didn’t get caught or creased.
“I don’t understand?”
She smiled with dignity. “My cabin is directly next to yours. And the walls are naught but a thin sheet of metal. I know you regularly awaken suddenly in the night from being disturbed in your sleep, so I'm here to ensure you get a proper night's rest.” She waved to the pile of books and the bed. “Don’t worry about me, I will keep myself occupied.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she quickly cut me off. “There will be no negotiation, you assisted me when I struggled to sleep and now I shall do the same. Now get yourself ready for bed, I will close my eyes.” She leaned back and shut her eyes.
Knowing there was no point in arguing, I removed both my shirt and trousers and laid myself down in bed. My face felt warm at the idea of Hood sitting by me while I slept, enough to overpower the last bits of lingering pain from the slap, but exhaustion hit me like a train the moment I laid down.
Hood reopened her eyes with the slightest bit of a blush of her own. “Good, now you just relax and I will be here if you need me.” Hood reached down and grabbed the bottle. “Honestly, I don’t understand your reasoning behind seeking comfort in this instead of getting it from a beautiful lady.” She opened the bottle and took a rather large swig.
“Don’t know where I could find the latter.” I mumbled.
“I am not ignorant of how I look, nor am I to your wandering gaze.” She quipped with a coy smile. “Now enough chitchat, it’s time for you to rest. That is unless you want me to read for you?”
“Fine, fine. Have it your way.” I said, resting my head down and shutting my eyes. It took a while to get over the nerves of having Hood sitting beside me, but the occasional flip of a page became a pleasant background noise that helped lull me to sleep.
—
Warspite sat in her captain’s chair, resting her head in her arm as she wracked her brain. She rocked her head back with a groan once more. “Why did you have to go and hit him, Warspite? You bloody stupid ship.”
She didn’t know why she had such a rush of emotions when he spoke and acted without thinking before bawling like an infant. Why is it now that just his presence is enough to throw her whits into a loop, yet she couldn’t wait until he was sitting in this chair with her at his side again?
“Things were easier when I wanted naught but to throw him overboard.” She sighed.
Another issue came to her mind, something she had brought back from the facility, not the notebook; that could remain safely locked away until she was sure her opinion of humans wouldn’t worsen even more. This was something else, something she wished she had never even touched and just left it where it lay, for what it meant made her sick.
Someone approached her bridge, Warspite quickly brushed aside her thoughts and tried to figure out who it was. She was unsuccessful at figuring out who it was but when the door had opened she quickly dropped to her knee.
“Good evening, your Majesty.”
Elizabeth smiled and walked onto the bridge. “There will never be a day where thou need to kneel upon thy own bridge. Stand, my dear Warspite.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” The battleship stood back up. “How was your rest? I hope the rain was not too distracting.” Warspite offered the captain's chair to Elizabeth for her to sit. But the tiny Queen remained standing.
After surveying the surrounding sea Elizabeth turned to her sister. “T’was most pleasant. How did things fare while I rested? Did you speak to our Commander about the book?”
“Ah, well.” Warspite scratched her head. “He gave me the same answer as you, your Majesty. I will wait until Cleveland is in a better condition and ask her permission to read it.”
Elizabeth brought a hand to her chin, noticing the small movements and fidgeting her sister was still doing. “Yet something troubles you still. Is it anything I could be of assistance with?”
Warspite sighed and dropped her shoulders. “May I ask for your assistance in something, not as my queen but as my sister?”
The Queen nodded with a soft smile. “I will always be your big sister before I am your Queen, Warspite. What is it you wish to confide in me with?”
“One second.” She replied before walking off into a small secondary inner communications room connected to the bridge, its purpose made redundant by her being able to control the ship completely no matter where she was. But inside a small cabinet was an inconspicuous rag that hid the source of her problems. She returned to the bridge with the item in hand.
“The notepad wasn't the only thing I grabbed before leaving.” She spoke as she walked over. “When James…” Warspite paused as she relived the memory. “When he shot that wretched man he dropped his gun.”
Peeling back the rag she showed Elizabeth the firearm. “There had been something about the sound it made when it fell that made me curious. I could tell you, but I think it's better for you to see for yourself.”
She offered the gun to her sister cautiously. Elizabeth took the firearm into her hand, instantly finding herself being able to handle it like she had trained with it for decades. Her brow furrowed as she noticed something was off about it.
“It can't be.” She pressed down on the magazine release to confirm her suspicion. “It's… empty?” Elizabeth was dumbfounded at the empty magazine. “Did you unload it?”
Warspite sighed and shook her head. “Unfortunately no. This is how it was, so technically…”
“James was never in any real danger.” Elizabeth finished, remembering what Warspite had told her of the exchange when they had returned.
“And that's the problem, I know James would want me to be honest to him. But what he did is tearing him apart inside, this would only make things worse.” She looked in the general direction of where his cabin would be. “I’m perplexed, Elizabeth. I’m sorry for dropping this on you, but what should I do?”
The Queen was silent for a while. Her gaze was distant as she thought over the problem until her smile returned and she returned the gun to her sister. “You should throw this in the ocean and forget about it. He put a gun against our James’ head. Loaded or not, James acted accordingly.”
Warspite looked at the gun and nodded. “I should have clocked it.”
An arm rested against her shoulder. “The past is filled with should haves and would haves, Warspite. If we were able to go back and change things then a lot of disasters could have been avoided.” Elizabeth felt the echoes of a memory come to mind, of a beach too steep to climb and an ocean filled with blood. “But we can't change them, so we must learn, grow stronger and soldier onward.”
The two sisters embraced one another in a hug for a long time until eventually breaking and retiring for the night. But not before the old warship went and threw the gun overboard, cursing the name of its deceased owner as she did, hoping the seas would swallow one more secret, never to resurface again.
(A/N) once again I ended up seeing this chapter getting longer and longer, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and look forward to the next, it should be coming soon as at the time of posting this the next chapter is already about halfway done.
2023.06.06 21:51 MakeupGun [US to US/CANADA][SELL/SWAP][PERFUME] BPAL, Arcana, Alkemia, Possets, Nui Cobalt Full Bottles! (Newest Adds 6/6)
Hi, I’m in the middle of a massive destash. Shipping is $5, USPS First Class with tracking or $15 First Class International to Canada. Everything listed is a full bottle. Scent descriptions have been pared down to notes for space. I ship weekly. Unfortunately, I have almost no perfume samples, so I might not be able to provide extras in my packages. I am open to reasonable offers on everything. I'm also going hardcore on my ISOs right now and am happy to swap for anything on my list. I'm particulary looking for a full 5 ml of BPAL Black Amber and Sugarcane and have some rares I'd be willing to swap for it, including Ava, Velvet Unicorn, Spanked Resurrected, VILF, and Snow Angel.
ALKEMIA (5 ml rollerballs)
In a Railway Carriage: Rumpled linens, silky woolens, skin musk, white amber, lotus flowers, peaches, freesia, violets. ($14)
Les Mysteres: Frankincense, black figs, labdanum, dark amber, Russian tea. ($14)
BPAL (5 ml bottles)
GCs
Vasilissa: Skin musk, pink musk, sandalwood, white amber, myrrh, star jasmine. ($16)
LEs
About Midnight: Vanillic sandalwood, holy balsam, cedar, frankincense. ($20)
All the Dust of the Land: Ceylon cinnamon bark, black patchouli, tonka absolute, bitter almond, frankincense. ($20)
Apple IV 2015: Red apple, blackcurrant bud, black clove, vanilla bourbon. ($20)Bestla: Amber, black fig, rose oud. ($20)
Cascading Blossoms: White gardenia, frangipani, rose peony, plumeria, and vanilla orchid. ($20)
The Changeling: Blonde wood, linen swaddling, pumpkin rind, bourbon vanilla. ($20)
The Countess of Morcar's Blue Carbuncle: Blue musk, white juniper, iris pallida, white oudh, sugar crystals. ($20)
The Creation: Amber saffron, indigo chypre, gardenia, blackcurrant, ylang ylang, frankincense, fir needle, white patchouli. ($20)
Dark and Weary: Somber oudh, grey benzoin, raw bourbon vanilla, and tobacco. ($20)
Donna Con Ventaglio: White chypre, bergamot, rose otto, ylang ylang, tonka absolute, lotus root, blood orange, white fig, rock rose, mate, violet leaf. ($20)
The Drum Bridge and Yuhi Hill at Meguro: Snow-dusted ti leaf, winter-white cherry blossoms, gilded ylang ylang, hinoki cypress. ($20)
The Fox Sisters 2014: Rose geranium, tea roses, mahogany wood, bourbon vanilla, apple peel. ($20)
The Gambols of Ghosts: Beeswax, amber, violets, olive blossom, moss. ($20)
Gelt-Smeared Dreidel ($20)
Gingerbread Cathedral: Gingerbread, olibanum, Oman myrrh, Damascus rose resin, cassia. ($20)
The Great Python Snake: Thick, vine-draped trees, primeval flowers blooming in the shadows, dark, wet earth. ($20)
Hag Musk ($20)
A Holy Man Advises a Woman to Invoke Mary Against a Devil: White musk, tobacco flower, white tea, Tunisian neroli, blonde leather. ($20)
Leda: Crimson and gold musks, pearl orris, white oudh, white sandalwood, translucent spiced petals. ($20)
L’Essence de L’Ardeur: Centifolia rose absolute, tea rose, bourbon vanilla, bittersweet chocolate, champaca resinoid, myrrh, nutmeg, pomegranate, benzoin. ($20)
Looming Spectre of Unutterable Horror: Frankincense, tobacco absolute, Russian leather, blackened champaca, clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla, petitgrain. ($20)
Lovers Embrace Under a Cock Kimono: Amber, balsam peru, patchouli, blood orange, rose geranium. ($20)
The Magic Circle: Vanilla-infused frankincense, clary sage, 7-year aged patchouli, jasmine sambac, honey myrtle, oudh. ($20)
Maidens in Repose: Black amber, Ceylon cinnamon, Somalian myrrh, pale incense, star anise. ($20)
Maison En Pain d’Épices 2011: Gingerbread, multicolored icing, spice drops, meringue, mint accents, chocolate, candy wafers, jelly candy. ($20)
Minamoto No Yorimitsu Cuts at the Earth Spider: Toasted sandalwood, tobacco flower, teakwood, castoreum accord, bourbon vanilla, patchouli. ($20)
Mourning Cloak/Shroud: Opoponax, kumaru, cocoa butter, Mysore sandalwood, verbena, almond milk, guiac wood, beeswax, myrrh. (Note: bottle is labeled "Mourning Shroud." $20)
Nasty Woman: Black fig, patchouli, bourbon vanilla, honeyed amber oud, loukhoum. ($20)
Now Winter Nights Enlarge 2015: Vanilla-infused red musk, champaca, petitgrain, ylang ylang, patchouli, nutmeg, honey, galbanum, caramel. ($20)
Paysage: Tunisian opium, mugwort, blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, tobacco absolute. ($20)
Peach VI 2014: Peach, blackcurrant, aged patchouli, red sandalwood, benzoin, blue musk. ($20)
The Ring: Antiqued amber, frankincense, patchouli, hay, oakmoss, skin musk, white mint. ($20)
Seven Word Story: Wrath: Bitter almond, black patchouli, red amber, rum absolute, lemon peel. ($20)
She Perishes That She May Live: Cinnamon, amomum, cassia, acanthus, spikenard, myrrh, three balsams, frankincense. ($20)
The Snow at Dusk: Snowdrifts, opium tar, wild plum, Siamese benzoin, champaca resinoid, muguet, carnation. ($20)
The Snow at Midnight: Frozen blackcurrant bud, myrrh, ciste absolute, frankincense, oudh. ($20)
Sonnet D'Automne 2011: White musk, vanilla-infused white cocoa, amber incense, dead, leaves. ($20)
A Sublime Beauty: White rose, orris absolute, tonka, bergamot, bourbon vanilla, patchouli. ($20)
They Lie Thus Chambered and Cold to the Moon: Cedar coffinwood, davana, tobacco flower, white rose. ($20)
Thousands of Lights: Indian ambrette seed, beeswax, champaca flower, saffron, Italian bergamot, frankincense, oak bark, vanilla orchid. ($20)
The Tumultuous Vultures of Stern Passion: Red musk, red benzoin, wild plum, vetiver tar, Indonesian patchouli, white musk, vanilla-gilded lily. ($20)
The Unquiet Grave: White roses, frankincense, white gardenia, white sandalwood, vanilla orchid. ($20)
Valentine of Rome 2011: Cypress, olive blossom, frankincense, myrrh, blood accord. ($20)
Venus Cloacina: White gardenia, frankincense, sheer musk, vanilla orchid. ($20)
Ville-Marie: Vanilla-touched white musk: Madonna lily, crabapple blossom, Begonia juliana, dendrobium and phalaenopsis orchids, five varieties of lilac. ($20)
NUI COBALT (5 ml bottles, $16)
Icicle Tiara: Cold accord, white tea, linen, blue lotus, pale amber resin, forest musk, vanilla sugar.
Little Brown Rabbit: Nutmeg, tonka bean, marshmallow, cottonflower, pink pepper, carrot seed.
Vengeful Spirit: Cotton flower, cardamom, cashmere, bitter almond, storm-washed teak, white sandalwood.
Victorian Burlesque: Indigo musk, plum wine, night blooming jasmine, blackcurrant jam, green cardamom, cinnamon crème brûlée.
POSSETS (5 ml bottles, $14)
Bridal Veil: Orange blossom, neroli, silk, chiffon.
Gelato: Blood Orange
Golden Section: “Oddly and pleasantly animalic, unaggressively floral, and tempered with 3 ambers (one honeyed, one dry, and one very sweet and dripping golden.)”
Reward: Red candy, musk, fern, lily, orchid.
Virginia Oldoini: Blue Lilac accord, white hawthorne, three white musks.
Water Witch: Aquatic, salt, jasmine, mandarin, rosehip, animalic essences.
submitted by MakeupGun to IndieExchange [link] [comments]
ALKEMIA (5 ml rollerballs)
In a Railway Carriage: Rumpled linens, silky woolens, skin musk, white amber, lotus flowers, peaches, freesia, violets. ($14)
Les Mysteres: Frankincense, black figs, labdanum, dark amber, Russian tea. ($14)
BPAL (5 ml bottles)
GCs
Vasilissa: Skin musk, pink musk, sandalwood, white amber, myrrh, star jasmine. ($16)
LEs
About Midnight: Vanillic sandalwood, holy balsam, cedar, frankincense. ($20)
All the Dust of the Land: Ceylon cinnamon bark, black patchouli, tonka absolute, bitter almond, frankincense. ($20)
Apple IV 2015: Red apple, blackcurrant bud, black clove, vanilla bourbon. ($20)Bestla: Amber, black fig, rose oud. ($20)
Cascading Blossoms: White gardenia, frangipani, rose peony, plumeria, and vanilla orchid. ($20)
The Changeling: Blonde wood, linen swaddling, pumpkin rind, bourbon vanilla. ($20)
The Countess of Morcar's Blue Carbuncle: Blue musk, white juniper, iris pallida, white oudh, sugar crystals. ($20)
The Creation: Amber saffron, indigo chypre, gardenia, blackcurrant, ylang ylang, frankincense, fir needle, white patchouli. ($20)
Dark and Weary: Somber oudh, grey benzoin, raw bourbon vanilla, and tobacco. ($20)
Donna Con Ventaglio: White chypre, bergamot, rose otto, ylang ylang, tonka absolute, lotus root, blood orange, white fig, rock rose, mate, violet leaf. ($20)
The Drum Bridge and Yuhi Hill at Meguro: Snow-dusted ti leaf, winter-white cherry blossoms, gilded ylang ylang, hinoki cypress. ($20)
The Fox Sisters 2014: Rose geranium, tea roses, mahogany wood, bourbon vanilla, apple peel. ($20)
The Gambols of Ghosts: Beeswax, amber, violets, olive blossom, moss. ($20)
Gelt-Smeared Dreidel ($20)
Gingerbread Cathedral: Gingerbread, olibanum, Oman myrrh, Damascus rose resin, cassia. ($20)
The Great Python Snake: Thick, vine-draped trees, primeval flowers blooming in the shadows, dark, wet earth. ($20)
Hag Musk ($20)
A Holy Man Advises a Woman to Invoke Mary Against a Devil: White musk, tobacco flower, white tea, Tunisian neroli, blonde leather. ($20)
Leda: Crimson and gold musks, pearl orris, white oudh, white sandalwood, translucent spiced petals. ($20)
L’Essence de L’Ardeur: Centifolia rose absolute, tea rose, bourbon vanilla, bittersweet chocolate, champaca resinoid, myrrh, nutmeg, pomegranate, benzoin. ($20)
Looming Spectre of Unutterable Horror: Frankincense, tobacco absolute, Russian leather, blackened champaca, clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla, petitgrain. ($20)
Lovers Embrace Under a Cock Kimono: Amber, balsam peru, patchouli, blood orange, rose geranium. ($20)
The Magic Circle: Vanilla-infused frankincense, clary sage, 7-year aged patchouli, jasmine sambac, honey myrtle, oudh. ($20)
Maidens in Repose: Black amber, Ceylon cinnamon, Somalian myrrh, pale incense, star anise. ($20)
Maison En Pain d’Épices 2011: Gingerbread, multicolored icing, spice drops, meringue, mint accents, chocolate, candy wafers, jelly candy. ($20)
Minamoto No Yorimitsu Cuts at the Earth Spider: Toasted sandalwood, tobacco flower, teakwood, castoreum accord, bourbon vanilla, patchouli. ($20)
Mourning Cloak/Shroud: Opoponax, kumaru, cocoa butter, Mysore sandalwood, verbena, almond milk, guiac wood, beeswax, myrrh. (Note: bottle is labeled "Mourning Shroud." $20)
Nasty Woman: Black fig, patchouli, bourbon vanilla, honeyed amber oud, loukhoum. ($20)
Now Winter Nights Enlarge 2015: Vanilla-infused red musk, champaca, petitgrain, ylang ylang, patchouli, nutmeg, honey, galbanum, caramel. ($20)
Paysage: Tunisian opium, mugwort, blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, tobacco absolute. ($20)
Peach VI 2014: Peach, blackcurrant, aged patchouli, red sandalwood, benzoin, blue musk. ($20)
The Ring: Antiqued amber, frankincense, patchouli, hay, oakmoss, skin musk, white mint. ($20)
Seven Word Story: Wrath: Bitter almond, black patchouli, red amber, rum absolute, lemon peel. ($20)
She Perishes That She May Live: Cinnamon, amomum, cassia, acanthus, spikenard, myrrh, three balsams, frankincense. ($20)
The Snow at Dusk: Snowdrifts, opium tar, wild plum, Siamese benzoin, champaca resinoid, muguet, carnation. ($20)
The Snow at Midnight: Frozen blackcurrant bud, myrrh, ciste absolute, frankincense, oudh. ($20)
Sonnet D'Automne 2011: White musk, vanilla-infused white cocoa, amber incense, dead, leaves. ($20)
A Sublime Beauty: White rose, orris absolute, tonka, bergamot, bourbon vanilla, patchouli. ($20)
They Lie Thus Chambered and Cold to the Moon: Cedar coffinwood, davana, tobacco flower, white rose. ($20)
Thousands of Lights: Indian ambrette seed, beeswax, champaca flower, saffron, Italian bergamot, frankincense, oak bark, vanilla orchid. ($20)
The Tumultuous Vultures of Stern Passion: Red musk, red benzoin, wild plum, vetiver tar, Indonesian patchouli, white musk, vanilla-gilded lily. ($20)
The Unquiet Grave: White roses, frankincense, white gardenia, white sandalwood, vanilla orchid. ($20)
Valentine of Rome 2011: Cypress, olive blossom, frankincense, myrrh, blood accord. ($20)
Venus Cloacina: White gardenia, frankincense, sheer musk, vanilla orchid. ($20)
Ville-Marie: Vanilla-touched white musk: Madonna lily, crabapple blossom, Begonia juliana, dendrobium and phalaenopsis orchids, five varieties of lilac. ($20)
NUI COBALT (5 ml bottles, $16)
Icicle Tiara: Cold accord, white tea, linen, blue lotus, pale amber resin, forest musk, vanilla sugar.
Little Brown Rabbit: Nutmeg, tonka bean, marshmallow, cottonflower, pink pepper, carrot seed.
Vengeful Spirit: Cotton flower, cardamom, cashmere, bitter almond, storm-washed teak, white sandalwood.
Victorian Burlesque: Indigo musk, plum wine, night blooming jasmine, blackcurrant jam, green cardamom, cinnamon crème brûlée.
POSSETS (5 ml bottles, $14)
Bridal Veil: Orange blossom, neroli, silk, chiffon.
Gelato: Blood Orange
Golden Section: “Oddly and pleasantly animalic, unaggressively floral, and tempered with 3 ambers (one honeyed, one dry, and one very sweet and dripping golden.)”
Reward: Red candy, musk, fern, lily, orchid.
Virginia Oldoini: Blue Lilac accord, white hawthorne, three white musks.
Water Witch: Aquatic, salt, jasmine, mandarin, rosehip, animalic essences.
2023.06.06 21:31 Friendly_Original_19 Rags to Riches Giveaway! Starts TOMORROW at 5 PM CST and will go on until 10 PM CST! Some of the items will include Elegant furniture, Fancy Clothing/Tuxedos, Gold Luxury Cars, and TONS of BELLS! COMMENT Squishmallows if you’re planning on coming and what hour works best for you.😄
 | What items will be available? submitted by Friendly_Original_19 to ACNHwishlistrequest [link] [comments]
|
2023.06.06 21:25 Emoryian The haunting wooden doe
My first memory of losing something takes me back many years. I was still a kid, around 5 or maybe 6 years old. Back then, I enjoyed collecting little wooden toy animals. I had one particular favorite. Perhaps the reason I liked it so much was not because it was prettier than the others, but simply because I kept losing it. Despite being young and easily distracted, I vividly remember what happened.
I was playing on the floor of my room with the other little wooden figures when suddenly, I froze in place. There it was, lying right next to the leg of the chair, the little doe looking exactly as I remembered it. I eagerly picked it up, still unable to believe my eyes, and immediately included it in my game.
I was overjoyed, at least until I turned my head for a moment in the opposite direction. When I looked back to where I had left the doe, it was gone.
It may sound naive and silly, but even back then, I knew there was something strange about the whole situation. I searched every nook and cranny of my room, desperate to find it. However, it was nowhere to be found. I felt a sense of despair as if someone was playing a prank on me, deliberately hiding my toy.
I hadn't thought about this incident for years, and it had become deeply buried in my memory. It likely wouldn't have resurfaced if something hadn't happened to remind me of that day.
Now, at the age of 23, I live alone in a secluded town. I prefer tranquility and birdsong over the constant noise and hectic pace of city life. I have a cozy little house all to myself, the kind I had always dreamed of. It's a two-story house with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a spacious garden filled with various flowers and peaceful corners where I can fully dedicate myself to work or reading.
On one of those quiet afternoons, I was reading a book on the sofa in my living room, accompanied by music playing from the record player. Suddenly, the record started screeching, producing unbearable sounds. I quickly jumped up and halted its spinning.
"I concentrate better in silence anyway," I thought to myself as I returned to my seat.
But then, something caught my eye. I'm not entirely sure how I noticed it, but there was a small part of something sticking out from behind the leg of the small table where I kept the record player. I bent down and picked it up. The moment I laid eyes on the little wooden doe, I recognized it. A wave of confusion washed over me, and I shivered.
"What are you doing here?" I wondered aloud. Could it have been tucked away somewhere in my belongings when I moved? That seemed unlikely, as I would have noticed it much sooner.
I went back to the couch, sat down, and continued to gaze at the toy. I knew it was the same one, without a doubt. It couldn't be a mere look-alike. I ran my fingers over its surface, feeling its texture once again—exactly as I remembered.
Was this some kind of prank? But I hadn't shared this story with anyone. Not a single soul.
I stared at the toy, unable to make up my mind to call someone. Suddenly the silence that filled the room didn't seem soothing to me but instead instilled fear and tension. I twirled the toy nervously in my hands until my eyes landed on something. Its stomach was carved with letters, perhaps signs. I didn't recognize them, I had never seen anything like them. And I was almost prejudiced that they were missing before.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from those strange markings on the wooden doe's stomach. They seemed to form a pattern, a language that was unfamiliar to me. It sent a shiver down my spine, and an unsettling feeling washed over me.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to investigate further. I reached for my phone, ready to snap a few pictures of the carvings, hoping that someone might recognize the symbols and provide some insight into their meaning. But as I held my phone up to take the pictures, suddenly the lights turned off.
The room was plunged into darkness, and I felt a chill crawl up my spine. I didn't realize how fast it got dark outside. Goosebumps formed on my arms, and an eerie silence settled in the air. Fear gripped me, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was paralyzed, consumed by a sense of dread.
And then, the silence was shattered by a soft, haunting melody that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. The music was mournful, like a dirge, and it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel the weight of an unseen presence in the room, its presence heavy and oppressive.
Trembling, I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to turn on the flashlight. But no matter how many times I pressed the power button, the screen remained dark. Panic rose within me as I realized that I was trapped in the darkness with whatever unseen entity had invaded my home.
The haunting melody grew louder, filling every corner of the room. Shadows danced and twisted, taking on grotesque forms that seemed to reach out toward me. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my voice failed me. It was as if an invisible force had stolen my ability to utter a sound.
Amid the chaos, my gaze was drawn back to the wooden doe clutched tightly in my hand. Its eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw movement within the tiny carved figure. It was as if the doe was alive, pulsating with an energy that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
With a surge of desperation, I hurled the wooden doe away from me, hoping to break free from whatever curse it held. But as soon as it left my hand, the room fell silent. The oppressive presence vanished, and the darkness lifted, replaced by the soft glow of the lights.
I was left alone in the room, shaken and breathless. As I looked at the floor, I realized that the doe was no longer there. It has vanished once more.
I was relieved, thankful that the toy was gone.
But I don’t think it ever really was. Every night when I close my eyes that melody starts playing again, it becomes everything to me, leaving me unable to fall asleep. I'm uncertain if my sleepless nights are the cause of the increased instances of losing my belongings, but I have noticed a definite rise in such incidents following the event.
I'm afraid that over time, I might not only lose my belongings but also my mind.
submitted by Emoryian to nosleep [link] [comments]
I was playing on the floor of my room with the other little wooden figures when suddenly, I froze in place. There it was, lying right next to the leg of the chair, the little doe looking exactly as I remembered it. I eagerly picked it up, still unable to believe my eyes, and immediately included it in my game.
I was overjoyed, at least until I turned my head for a moment in the opposite direction. When I looked back to where I had left the doe, it was gone.
It may sound naive and silly, but even back then, I knew there was something strange about the whole situation. I searched every nook and cranny of my room, desperate to find it. However, it was nowhere to be found. I felt a sense of despair as if someone was playing a prank on me, deliberately hiding my toy.
I hadn't thought about this incident for years, and it had become deeply buried in my memory. It likely wouldn't have resurfaced if something hadn't happened to remind me of that day.
Now, at the age of 23, I live alone in a secluded town. I prefer tranquility and birdsong over the constant noise and hectic pace of city life. I have a cozy little house all to myself, the kind I had always dreamed of. It's a two-story house with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a spacious garden filled with various flowers and peaceful corners where I can fully dedicate myself to work or reading.
On one of those quiet afternoons, I was reading a book on the sofa in my living room, accompanied by music playing from the record player. Suddenly, the record started screeching, producing unbearable sounds. I quickly jumped up and halted its spinning.
"I concentrate better in silence anyway," I thought to myself as I returned to my seat.
But then, something caught my eye. I'm not entirely sure how I noticed it, but there was a small part of something sticking out from behind the leg of the small table where I kept the record player. I bent down and picked it up. The moment I laid eyes on the little wooden doe, I recognized it. A wave of confusion washed over me, and I shivered.
"What are you doing here?" I wondered aloud. Could it have been tucked away somewhere in my belongings when I moved? That seemed unlikely, as I would have noticed it much sooner.
I went back to the couch, sat down, and continued to gaze at the toy. I knew it was the same one, without a doubt. It couldn't be a mere look-alike. I ran my fingers over its surface, feeling its texture once again—exactly as I remembered.
Was this some kind of prank? But I hadn't shared this story with anyone. Not a single soul.
I stared at the toy, unable to make up my mind to call someone. Suddenly the silence that filled the room didn't seem soothing to me but instead instilled fear and tension. I twirled the toy nervously in my hands until my eyes landed on something. Its stomach was carved with letters, perhaps signs. I didn't recognize them, I had never seen anything like them. And I was almost prejudiced that they were missing before.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from those strange markings on the wooden doe's stomach. They seemed to form a pattern, a language that was unfamiliar to me. It sent a shiver down my spine, and an unsettling feeling washed over me.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to investigate further. I reached for my phone, ready to snap a few pictures of the carvings, hoping that someone might recognize the symbols and provide some insight into their meaning. But as I held my phone up to take the pictures, suddenly the lights turned off.
The room was plunged into darkness, and I felt a chill crawl up my spine. I didn't realize how fast it got dark outside. Goosebumps formed on my arms, and an eerie silence settled in the air. Fear gripped me, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was paralyzed, consumed by a sense of dread.
And then, the silence was shattered by a soft, haunting melody that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. The music was mournful, like a dirge, and it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel the weight of an unseen presence in the room, its presence heavy and oppressive.
Trembling, I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to turn on the flashlight. But no matter how many times I pressed the power button, the screen remained dark. Panic rose within me as I realized that I was trapped in the darkness with whatever unseen entity had invaded my home.
The haunting melody grew louder, filling every corner of the room. Shadows danced and twisted, taking on grotesque forms that seemed to reach out toward me. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my voice failed me. It was as if an invisible force had stolen my ability to utter a sound.
Amid the chaos, my gaze was drawn back to the wooden doe clutched tightly in my hand. Its eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw movement within the tiny carved figure. It was as if the doe was alive, pulsating with an energy that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
With a surge of desperation, I hurled the wooden doe away from me, hoping to break free from whatever curse it held. But as soon as it left my hand, the room fell silent. The oppressive presence vanished, and the darkness lifted, replaced by the soft glow of the lights.
I was left alone in the room, shaken and breathless. As I looked at the floor, I realized that the doe was no longer there. It has vanished once more.
I was relieved, thankful that the toy was gone.
But I don’t think it ever really was. Every night when I close my eyes that melody starts playing again, it becomes everything to me, leaving me unable to fall asleep. I'm uncertain if my sleepless nights are the cause of the increased instances of losing my belongings, but I have noticed a definite rise in such incidents following the event.
I'm afraid that over time, I might not only lose my belongings but also my mind.
2023.06.06 21:12 yokodoll Pret bun!
submitted by yokodoll to rometal [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 20:55 AussieHawker Cornel West is not progressive (or not anymore).
There has been a lot of discussion about Cornel West because of his announced campaign. With a wide variety of reactions. But one reaction I've noted is people who do know how stupid splitting the vote is, but say that he is championing progressive causes or that he is very progressive.
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this shit happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't give a fuck, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
submitted by AussieHawker to TheMajorityReport [link] [comments]
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
Brother Bernie and Brother Trump are authentic human beings in stark contrast to their donor-driven opponents.In the 2016 campaign, he was praising Trump over Clinton.And then endorsed Jill Stein. You don't have to like Clinton, to know how high the stakes were. And of course, as we now all know the stakes were high. 3 Supreme Court Justices, hundreds of lower federal judges, endemic corruption, criminalisation of immigrants, rise in hate crimes, and Trump utterly botching the crisis that happened under his watch, Covid killing over a million Americans.
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this shit happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
By Cornel West and Jeremy Wayne TateIn this article, he praises DeSantis for introducing the Classic Learning Test (CLT) to Florida schools. He has a lot of fancy words about the various historical thinkers who went against the grain. Sounds nice. I wonder how Ron DeSantis is treating free inquiry in Florida?
Gov. Ron DeSantis just gave a welcome boost to the classical-education movement. He signed legislation allowing high-school students to qualify for Bright Futures scholarships, a state fund for college education, by submitting scores from the Classic Learning Test instead of the SAT alone.
This move will likely be portrayed, wrongly, as partisan and conservative. But the greatest works of civilization have always been about spurring—not preventing—radical change. They teach us about the revolutionary ideas of the past and help us better understand the present. The richest ideas of what it means to be human are those that have stood the test of time.
Many of the seminal works of literature, history, philosophy, science and theology were revolutionary in their respective ages. Turn the pages of Galileo Galilei’s “Two New Sciences” and you’ll experience the alteration of humanity’s view of itself in relation to the heavens. By disproving the then-common belief that the planets revolved around the Earth rather than the sun, Galileo laid the foundation for modern science. Isaac Newton, swept aside what remained of the Old World’s scientific superstitions—only to find himself upstaged two centuries later by Albert Einstein’s “Relativity.”
Like revolutionary ideas today, the ideas of yesterday were provocative and, in many cases, much more consequential. Galileo was put on trial because he upset the status quo. In the 13th century, Bishop Stephen Tempier of Paris condemned key works of theologian Thomas Aquinas for being too radical. Soviet dissident Alexander Solzhenitsyn and civil-rights activist Martin Luther King Jr. were imprisoned for their views. In colonial America, James Madison and his co-authors feared printing their names on the Federalist Papers, so they hid under aliases. Even the most mild-mannered of philosophers stirred trouble for thinking against the grain. Plato watched his great teacher Socrates put to death for his teachings.
Revolutionary figures of the past give us insight into the present and allow for reflection on the consequences of their choices. Julius Caesar, one of antiquity’s most recognizable leaders, teaches us the cost of revolution through his histories. By crossing into Rome with his armies, he ended the republic and created the Roman Empire, a crime for which he paid with his life. But in his firsthand descriptions of the often-brutal tactics he employed to achieve political transformation, he left behind deep insight. Caesar’s direct and simple prose conveys the reality of going to war—all without reference to contemporary conflicts.
That’s one of the virtues of the classics: They are a means of considering what is true without invoking the blind partisanship that encourages thoughtless action. There is nothing we need more today than the cultivation of reason and understanding.
That’s why Mr. DeSantis’s support of classic education has universal merit that transcends partisanship. Education based on values, logic and discipline isn’t Republican—it’s timeless.
Mr. West holds a chair at Union Theological Seminary and serves on the board of academic advisers of the Classic Learning Test. Mr. Tate is founder and CEO of the Classic Learning Test.
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
TALLAHASSEE — In February, when Gov. Ron DeSantis went after the College Board’s new Advanced Placement course on African American studies, he hinted that Florida might do without the organization’s courses and tests.Cornel West's own books would likely be in the firing line of Florida schools for writing about the Black experience in a way that wasn't completely stripped of all real history.
Two months later, Republican state lawmakers are preparing to head in that direction.
Using their budget proposal and a bill (HB 1537) that’s viewed as the Florida Department of Education’s legislation, the House and Senate are looking to pivot from the College Board’s Advanced Placement courses and SAT exam to other alternatives.
For the SAT, the state is considering a “classical and Christian” exam alternative called Classic Learning Test. It would be used as an optional graduation test requirement and to determine Bright Futures scholarship eligibility, as well as a college entrance exam at Florida’s public colleges and universities. Schools would have the option to administer the SAT, ACT or Classic Learning Test starting next school year.
For AP, the chambers have agreed to spend millions creating Florida-based alternative courses and tests, asking state universities and colleges to help establish the materials. A third-party organization would help create the exams.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
End the Wars Bring our troops home and invest those trillions of war dollars into American communities. Support veterans, stop all foreign military aid, close the bases, disband NATO, and ban nuclear weapons globally.Stop all foreign military aid and disband NATO. You know, while Russia is aggressively invading Ukraine. Yet another Leftist that is pro Imperialist invasion by a Neo Tsar.
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
I wish "Milo Yiannopoulos, Gavin McInnes, and Cornel West walk into a bar..." was the beginning of a joke, but I'm sorry to report that it is actually real lifeHe decided the prime place to announce his candidacy is on ... Russel Brand. Who went full anti-vaxx and Pro Russia.
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Hate group founder Gavin McInnes asks Cornel West to name an American fascist West: There's a spiritual fascism inside all of us... as a Christian I see it inside of myself Candace Owens: The Klan were Democrats West: Yes, they were [As if MLK had no idea of that history of Dems]Reportedly he went on this because Gavin McInnes was offering money to do it, which other figures turned down
Candace Owens: They tried to blame me for a mass shooting in New Zealand, saying that this person got radicalized by my ideas of Black conservatism in America The Christchurch New Zealand Mosque shooter stated in his manifesto Owens was the "person who radicalized [him] the most"
I gave Matthew this footage. I have the full segments for both appearances. At the time McInnes was begging liberals to go on this show offering them $5000 an appearance - Dave Packman, Sam Seder and Ana Kasparian all reported McInnes offered them money.Selling out for $5,000. I guess we know his price to sit down with a Nazi, on two separate appearances.
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't give a fuck, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
2023.06.06 20:53 AussieHawker Cornel West is not progressive (or not anymore).
There has been a lot of discussion about Cornel West because of his announced campaign. With a wide variety of reactions. But one reaction I've noted is people who do know how stupid splitting the vote is, but say that he is championing progressive causes or that he is very progressive.
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't care, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
submitted by AussieHawker to seculartalk [link] [comments]
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
Brother Bernie and Brother Trump are authentic human beings in stark contrast to their donor-driven opponents.In the 2016 campaign, he was praising Trump over Clinton.And then endorsed Jill Stein. You don't have to like Clinton, to know how high the stakes were. And of course, as we now all know the stakes were high. 3 Supreme Court Justices, hundreds of lower federal judges, endemic corruption, criminalisation of immigrants, rise in hate crimes, and Trump utterly botching the crisis that happened under his watch, Covid killing over a million Americans.
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
By Cornel West and Jeremy Wayne TateIn this article, he praises DeSantis for introducing the Classic Learning Test (CLT) to Florida schools. He has a lot of fancy words about the various historical thinkers who went against the grain. Sounds nice. I wonder how Ron DeSantis is treating free inquiry in Florida?
Gov. Ron DeSantis just gave a welcome boost to the classical-education movement. He signed legislation allowing high-school students to qualify for Bright Futures scholarships, a state fund for college education, by submitting scores from the Classic Learning Test instead of the SAT alone.
This move will likely be portrayed, wrongly, as partisan and conservative. But the greatest works of civilization have always been about spurring—not preventing—radical change. They teach us about the revolutionary ideas of the past and help us better understand the present. The richest ideas of what it means to be human are those that have stood the test of time.
Many of the seminal works of literature, history, philosophy, science and theology were revolutionary in their respective ages. Turn the pages of Galileo Galilei’s “Two New Sciences” and you’ll experience the alteration of humanity’s view of itself in relation to the heavens. By disproving the then-common belief that the planets revolved around the Earth rather than the sun, Galileo laid the foundation for modern science. Isaac Newton, swept aside what remained of the Old World’s scientific superstitions—only to find himself upstaged two centuries later by Albert Einstein’s “Relativity.”
Like revolutionary ideas today, the ideas of yesterday were provocative and, in many cases, much more consequential. Galileo was put on trial because he upset the status quo. In the 13th century, Bishop Stephen Tempier of Paris condemned key works of theologian Thomas Aquinas for being too radical. Soviet dissident Alexander Solzhenitsyn and civil-rights activist Martin Luther King Jr. were imprisoned for their views. In colonial America, James Madison and his co-authors feared printing their names on the Federalist Papers, so they hid under aliases. Even the most mild-mannered of philosophers stirred trouble for thinking against the grain. Plato watched his great teacher Socrates put to death for his teachings.
Revolutionary figures of the past give us insight into the present and allow for reflection on the consequences of their choices. Julius Caesar, one of antiquity’s most recognizable leaders, teaches us the cost of revolution through his histories. By crossing into Rome with his armies, he ended the republic and created the Roman Empire, a crime for which he paid with his life. But in his firsthand descriptions of the often-brutal tactics he employed to achieve political transformation, he left behind deep insight. Caesar’s direct and simple prose conveys the reality of going to war—all without reference to contemporary conflicts.
That’s one of the virtues of the classics: They are a means of considering what is true without invoking the blind partisanship that encourages thoughtless action. There is nothing we need more today than the cultivation of reason and understanding.
That’s why Mr. DeSantis’s support of classic education has universal merit that transcends partisanship. Education based on values, logic and discipline isn’t Republican—it’s timeless.
Mr. West holds a chair at Union Theological Seminary and serves on the board of academic advisers of the Classic Learning Test. Mr. Tate is founder and CEO of the Classic Learning Test.
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
TALLAHASSEE — In February, when Gov. Ron DeSantis went after the College Board’s new Advanced Placement course on African American studies, he hinted that Florida might do without the organization’s courses and tests.Cornel West's own books would likely be in the firing line of Florida schools for writing about the Black experience in a way that wasn't completely stripped of all real history.
Two months later, Republican state lawmakers are preparing to head in that direction.
Using their budget proposal and a bill (HB 1537) that’s viewed as the Florida Department of Education’s legislation, the House and Senate are looking to pivot from the College Board’s Advanced Placement courses and SAT exam to other alternatives.
For the SAT, the state is considering a “classical and Christian” exam alternative called Classic Learning Test. It would be used as an optional graduation test requirement and to determine Bright Futures scholarship eligibility, as well as a college entrance exam at Florida’s public colleges and universities. Schools would have the option to administer the SAT, ACT or Classic Learning Test starting next school year.
For AP, the chambers have agreed to spend millions creating Florida-based alternative courses and tests, asking state universities and colleges to help establish the materials. A third-party organization would help create the exams.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
End the Wars Bring our troops home and invest those trillions of war dollars into American communities. Support veterans, stop all foreign military aid, close the bases, disband NATO, and ban nuclear weapons globally.Stop all foreign military aid and disband NATO. You know, while Russia is aggressively invading Ukraine. Yet another Leftist that is pro Imperialist invasion by a Neo Tsar.
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
I wish "Milo Yiannopoulos, Gavin McInnes, and Cornel West walk into a bar..." was the beginning of a joke, but I'm sorry to report that it is actually real lifeHe decided the prime place to announce his candidacy is on ... Russel Brand. Who went full anti-vaxx and Pro Russia.
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Hate group founder Gavin McInnes asks Cornel West to name an American fascist West: There's a spiritual fascism inside all of us... as a Christian I see it inside of myself Candace Owens: The Klan were Democrats West: Yes, they were [As if MLK had no idea of that history of Dems]Reportedly he went on this because Gavin McInnes was offering money to do it, which other figures turned down
Candace Owens: They tried to blame me for a mass shooting in New Zealand, saying that this person got radicalized by my ideas of Black conservatism in America The Christchurch New Zealand Mosque shooter stated in his manifesto Owens was the "person who radicalized [him] the most"
I gave Matthew this footage. I have the full segments for both appearances. At the time McInnes was begging liberals to go on this show offering them $5000 an appearance - Dave Packman, Sam Seder and Ana Kasparian all reported McInnes offered them money.Selling out for $5,000. I guess we know his price to sit down with a Nazi, on two separate appearances.
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't care, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
2023.06.06 20:45 AussieHawker Cornel West is not progressive (or not anymore).
There has been a lot of discussion about Cornel West because of his announced campaign. With a wide variety of reactions. But one reaction I've noted is people who do know how stupid splitting the vote is, but say that he is championing progressive causes or that he is very progressive.
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this shit happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't give a fuck, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
submitted by AussieHawker to VaushV [link] [comments]
Now he acts Progressive. He says certain buzzwords. But is he? Or is he really just a crank who has gone right?
Splitting the Vote for Trump
This campaign is nothing new for Cornel West. From his own mouth
Brother Bernie and Brother Trump are authentic human beings in stark contrast to their donor-driven opponents.In the 2016 campaign, he was praising Trump over Clinton.And then endorsed Jill Stein. You don't have to like Clinton, to know how high the stakes were. And of course, as we now all know the stakes were high. 3 Supreme Court Justices, hundreds of lower federal judges, endemic corruption, criminalisation of immigrants, rise in hate crimes, and Trump utterly botching the crisis that happened under his watch, Covid killing over a million Americans.
But lots of people made that mistake as well. However, he is doing it all over again, after all this shit happened.
And Now Trump is even worse. He is explicitly campaigning against democracy itself because of his grudge about losing, he has made a campaign promise to invade Mexico, Ukraine will almost certainly get cut off reviving the Russian invasion and he explicitly wants to purge the Federal government of all non-loyalists, including bureaucratic roles. Cornel West has no hope of winning, all he is doing is taking away Democratic votes.
DeSantis, Chris Rufo and Cornel West
However, Cornel West doesn't just have an unfortunate past of praising Donald Trump. He also has a current history of praising Ron DeSantis and working with evangelical right-wingers, and their education causes.
Recently he wrote an Op-ed
DeSantis’s Revolutionary Defense of the Classics
By Cornel West and Jeremy Wayne TateIn this article, he praises DeSantis for introducing the Classic Learning Test (CLT) to Florida schools. He has a lot of fancy words about the various historical thinkers who went against the grain. Sounds nice. I wonder how Ron DeSantis is treating free inquiry in Florida?
Gov. Ron DeSantis just gave a welcome boost to the classical-education movement. He signed legislation allowing high-school students to qualify for Bright Futures scholarships, a state fund for college education, by submitting scores from the Classic Learning Test instead of the SAT alone.
This move will likely be portrayed, wrongly, as partisan and conservative. But the greatest works of civilization have always been about spurring—not preventing—radical change. They teach us about the revolutionary ideas of the past and help us better understand the present. The richest ideas of what it means to be human are those that have stood the test of time.
Many of the seminal works of literature, history, philosophy, science and theology were revolutionary in their respective ages. Turn the pages of Galileo Galilei’s “Two New Sciences” and you’ll experience the alteration of humanity’s view of itself in relation to the heavens. By disproving the then-common belief that the planets revolved around the Earth rather than the sun, Galileo laid the foundation for modern science. Isaac Newton, swept aside what remained of the Old World’s scientific superstitions—only to find himself upstaged two centuries later by Albert Einstein’s “Relativity.”
Like revolutionary ideas today, the ideas of yesterday were provocative and, in many cases, much more consequential. Galileo was put on trial because he upset the status quo. In the 13th century, Bishop Stephen Tempier of Paris condemned key works of theologian Thomas Aquinas for being too radical. Soviet dissident Alexander Solzhenitsyn and civil-rights activist Martin Luther King Jr. were imprisoned for their views. In colonial America, James Madison and his co-authors feared printing their names on the Federalist Papers, so they hid under aliases. Even the most mild-mannered of philosophers stirred trouble for thinking against the grain. Plato watched his great teacher Socrates put to death for his teachings.
Revolutionary figures of the past give us insight into the present and allow for reflection on the consequences of their choices. Julius Caesar, one of antiquity’s most recognizable leaders, teaches us the cost of revolution through his histories. By crossing into Rome with his armies, he ended the republic and created the Roman Empire, a crime for which he paid with his life. But in his firsthand descriptions of the often-brutal tactics he employed to achieve political transformation, he left behind deep insight. Caesar’s direct and simple prose conveys the reality of going to war—all without reference to contemporary conflicts.
That’s one of the virtues of the classics: They are a means of considering what is true without invoking the blind partisanship that encourages thoughtless action. There is nothing we need more today than the cultivation of reason and understanding.
That’s why Mr. DeSantis’s support of classic education has universal merit that transcends partisanship. Education based on values, logic and discipline isn’t Republican—it’s timeless.
Mr. West holds a chair at Union Theological Seminary and serves on the board of academic advisers of the Classic Learning Test. Mr. Tate is founder and CEO of the Classic Learning Test.
But in reality, this is really just a handout to an incredible niche test used by a handful of Evangelical right-wing schools. The CLT dates all the way back to ... 2015. It's just a way for Republicans to spend education money fattening the pockets of the CLT advisors to provide these tests, and to push students away from real universities to ones that teach them nonsense. And the guys profiting from this, is Cornel West's co-author on this article who started the test and Cornel West himself.
But also, pushing the 'Western Classics' didn't happen in a vacuum. Ron DeSantis pushed the CLT, as part of his plot to get rid of African American Studies and other 'woke' courses that are part of the AP studies.
TALLAHASSEE — In February, when Gov. Ron DeSantis went after the College Board’s new Advanced Placement course on African American studies, he hinted that Florida might do without the organization’s courses and tests.Cornel West's own books would likely be in the firing line of Florida schools for writing about the Black experience in a way that wasn't completely stripped of all real history.
Two months later, Republican state lawmakers are preparing to head in that direction.
Using their budget proposal and a bill (HB 1537) that’s viewed as the Florida Department of Education’s legislation, the House and Senate are looking to pivot from the College Board’s Advanced Placement courses and SAT exam to other alternatives.
For the SAT, the state is considering a “classical and Christian” exam alternative called Classic Learning Test. It would be used as an optional graduation test requirement and to determine Bright Futures scholarship eligibility, as well as a college entrance exam at Florida’s public colleges and universities. Schools would have the option to administer the SAT, ACT or Classic Learning Test starting next school year.
For AP, the chambers have agreed to spend millions creating Florida-based alternative courses and tests, asking state universities and colleges to help establish the materials. A third-party organization would help create the exams.
And who else is on the CLT Board?
Christopher Rufo, listed as Senior Fellow, The Manhattan Institute. Rufo was also appointed by DeSantis to destroy Florida's New College.. So he isn't just a think tanker, but directly on DeSantis's payroll.
Also included is Kevin Roberts, the President of the Heritage Foundation.
If you look at the photo the CLT board posted, its literally just a sea of White Republicans.
So Cornel West has no problem writing a public article praising Ron DeSantis for helping free inquiry, as he tries to get rid of any books about LGBT people or Black people and working alongside Chris Rufo, the guy who managed the Right Wings Critical Race Theory panic. Seems bad.
Ask yourself. If a Biden appointee to Education Secretary had this kind of background of supporting the privatisation of schools, and of hanging around figures like these, would you be cool with it? No of course not.
The People's People Grift
You might also note from his announcement that he isn't running for the Green Party, which already has ballot lines in many states. But for the People's Party.
Said People's Party is headed up by Nick Brana, and has been championed heavily by Jimmy Dore.
Both Nick Brana and Jimmy Dore have been credibly accused of sexual harassment and assault.
And this is what the People's Party online presence looks like
https://twitter.com/marionumber4/status/1665768271637782532
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx32IR5WAAQTjzf?format=jpg&name=large
Very left-wing. Totally not a right-wing grift.
In terms of the other track record of the People's Party, they aggressively solicited donations and promised that they would run dozens of candidates in the 2022 midterm. They didn't run a single one. Wonder where all that money went?
So the bright spark from all of this is that likely the People's Party will grift all the donations sent in, and not use it to actually get ballot access outside of the handful of states they have access to.
His Platform
Cornel West's website right now, is pretty limited. But one issue caught my eye in particular
End the Wars Bring our troops home and invest those trillions of war dollars into American communities. Support veterans, stop all foreign military aid, close the bases, disband NATO, and ban nuclear weapons globally.Stop all foreign military aid and disband NATO. You know, while Russia is aggressively invading Ukraine. Yet another Leftist that is pro Imperialist invasion by a Neo Tsar.
What wars? Bring the troops home from where exactly. Biden already left Afghanistan and Iraq a couple of years ago.
And I wonder what magical spell he has in mind, to get Russia, China, North Korea, India, Pakistan, and Israel to consider giving up their nuclear weapons.
More of the Company he keeps
Other assorted people, he hangs out with
He is of course a constantly returning guest on Bill Maher.
https://twitter.com/cassiepmillestatus/1138583273242857472
I wish "Milo Yiannopoulos, Gavin McInnes, and Cornel West walk into a bar..." was the beginning of a joke, but I'm sorry to report that it is actually real lifeHe decided the prime place to announce his candidacy is on ... Russel Brand. Who went full anti-vaxx and Pro Russia.
https://twitter.com/CornelWest/status/1666114005877010432
https://twitter.com/themattdimitri/status/1543780892241543171
Hate group founder Gavin McInnes asks Cornel West to name an American fascist West: There's a spiritual fascism inside all of us... as a Christian I see it inside of myself Candace Owens: The Klan were Democrats West: Yes, they were [As if MLK had no idea of that history of Dems]Reportedly he went on this because Gavin McInnes was offering money to do it, which other figures turned down
Candace Owens: They tried to blame me for a mass shooting in New Zealand, saying that this person got radicalized by my ideas of Black conservatism in America The Christchurch New Zealand Mosque shooter stated in his manifesto Owens was the "person who radicalized [him] the most"
I gave Matthew this footage. I have the full segments for both appearances. At the time McInnes was begging liberals to go on this show offering them $5000 an appearance - Dave Packman, Sam Seder and Ana Kasparian all reported McInnes offered them money.Selling out for $5,000. I guess we know his price to sit down with a Nazi, on two separate appearances.
Conclusion
So if you consider everything. At best, he is incredibly naive and easily taken in by Right-wingers which makes him utterly unsuited to any political position, let alone President. And more likely, he just doesn't give a fuck, and is cashing out. While also being a crank.
2023.06.06 20:19 Verrgasm On The Borders Of Madness
Lora Jones gazed blankly into the forest as she sat alone, knees hugged tightly to her chest, almost forgetting the uncomfortable flaking boards of the porch beneath her. The air was still and deathly quiet, and an indeterminable stirring had drawn the girl outside; cutting through the silence as if calling directly to her. Lora listened intently, intermittently escaping her daydreams to scan the treeline in hopes of encountering something unreal. Something different. Better.
The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.
submitted by Verrgasm to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.
2023.06.06 20:10 Verrgasm On The Borders Of Madness
Lora Jones gazed blankly into the forest as she sat alone, knees hugged tightly to her chest, almost forgetting the uncomfortable flaking boards of the porch beneath her. The air was still and deathly quiet, and an indeterminable stirring had drawn the girl outside; cutting through the silence as if calling directly to her. Lora listened intently, intermittently escaping her daydreams to scan the treeline in hopes of encountering something unreal. Something different. Better.
The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.
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The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.
2023.06.06 20:09 Verrgasm [HR] On The Borders Of Madness
Lora Jones gazed blankly into the forest as she sat alone, knees hugged tightly to her chest, almost forgetting the uncomfortable flaking boards of the porch beneath her. The air was still and deathly quiet, and an indeterminable stirring had drawn the girl outside; cutting through the silence as if calling directly to her. Lora listened intently, intermittently escaping her daydreams to scan the treeline in hopes of encountering something unreal. Something different. Better.
The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.
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The feeling of being watched was one Lora never found respite from, but as she sat there perched on the porch’s top step the understanding that this wasn’t of the usual malevolence that stalked her wherever she went seemed almost inherently undeniable. This presence was one of positive intent. Soothing, like the mother she’d never had but always longed for.
Lora tentatively got to her feet, the bare skin of her soles rubbing against the moist evening grass, still wet from the prior day's soft rain. As she was about to turn and go back inside, the forest cried out to her in an ethereal, desperate wail. But only ever so briefly. The girl froze, unsure of herself despite the deep, revelrous rays of affection pulsing and radiating from within the trees. She desperately wished to explore, to become one with it all, however her father had expressly forbade her from any such excursions beyond the property’s borders. Especially past the treeline, into those woods that may as well stretch on until the end of the universe. Lora knew what the consequences could be if she were to disobey.
The rusted hinges of the wooden front door creaked and with its closure disappeared anything resembling warmth or hope. Simply cold, fetid air; tainted by the stale musk of Lora’s father as he sat slumped, dozing in his chair. Lora crept across the floorboards, each squeaking almost as if to spite her. Her father stirred, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Lora gripped the knob of her bedroom door, twisting it ever so slowly so as to not make another sound, but it was too late. She turned, stifling a scream as she saw him swaying in the hallway towards her.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”
Lora’s father’s breath stank, and it was all she could do but to gag when he stuck his tongue down her throat. The bedroom door clicked behind them, and in her mind Lora went to the forest. She didn’t return until it was long over, but even then she was only half present. Her thoughts reduced to little more than grating static. Lora resolved through the fog that it was time to be free from all the nastiness of her homelife, even if it meant starvation or being ravaged by some sick wild animal. One with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws. Anything would be better than staying there, in that decrepit old cabin on the border of the ancient woods. That horrid, ramshackled shack on the cusp of the forest that breathes.
Lora awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she caught her reflection in the grime-smudged bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but vomit, holding her long dark hair back with one hand while gripping the seat with the other; grasping onto it like someone on the verge of falling. Tight enough to make her fingers ache. She washed her face, then, trembling, crept down the hallway into the living room. Her father’s chair sat empty. The television, off. The fridge was devoid of alcohol, explaining his absence. Unfortunately the cupboards were barren as well, and the young girl’s stomach growled in its emptiness. She settled on the crumbs remaining in an old box of off-brand sugary cereal, the sweetness of which tasted strangely bitter.
As Lora looked absently through her wardrobe for something to wear, she remembered the vow she’d made to herself in the night. About how she’d be freed from this nightmare, one way or another. A flash of vengeful determination made its home in the depths of her gut and it spread until she was no longer acting with conscious thought, snatching a black trash bag and stuffing clothes and keepsakes inside. Lora’s eyes glistened as she rubbed the friendship bracelet between her fingers before sliding it onto her wrist, trying to recall the face of the friend that’d given it to her all those years ago. She couldn’t, and her desire to escape grew ten-fold. Anger was overtaken by remorse and then dread before coalescing into an anxiety-ridden desperation. Looking over the bottles of medication atop the dresser, Lora sent them rattling to the floor with a shriek. Just another set of cogs in the terrible machine that made her feel so awfully hollow. She wouldn’t need them anymore, Lora told herself. Not where she was going.
Her father had locked the front door behind him, a cruel attempt to keep his daughter captive. Luckily for her, Lora had learned many useful things during her confinement. Like how to pick the lock. She removed the pin from her hair before retrieving a thin sewing needle, getting to work. He could be back any minute. A long, increasingly tense struggle ensued as Lora strained to find her way through the locking mechanism; dark as it was inside with all the windows boarded up, allowing in only thin slivers of sunlight. Finally, she felt the click. But her joy was as short-lived as any other feeling considered to be good. Lora shivered with the rumble of her father’s truck as it rolled into the gravel driveway. When he found out what she’d done, anything could happen.
Without another thought or even a look over her shoulder, Lora flung the door open so hard that the wood splintered against the frame and she burst through the threshold, abandoning her bagged-up belongings on the filthy living room carpet. Her sneakers connected with the overgrown grass of the yard before meeting the somehow tamer undergrowth of the forest floor for the very first time. Lora kept running, and she didn’t stop until her father’s furious screams faded deep into the distance behind her. Then, she ran some more.
‘Lost’ was the wrong word, because as confused in her surroundings as she was, Lora felt her trepidations slowly recede into the background. Unseen birds chirped overhead amongst the treetops, welcoming her. Encouraging her to go on. So, she did. She walked for miles through that inviting brush, all laid bare before her as if the very spirit of the forest itself were parting every obstacle in her path, and yet her legs didn’t tire, not at all. A smile quite unlike any other she’d expressed in a long time found itself upon her face. Every breath felt like heaven. The air, sweet and intensely lovely; scented like fresh pine and whipped cream. Everything, Lora felt in that long, perfect stroll among the undulating swathes of greens and browns, everything was going to be alright. Afterall, with a feeling that good, how could anything possibly be bad?
The sun hung fixed above, beaming down from the center of the cloudless, blue sky. By the time Lora realized that it hadn’t and refused to move since the start of her escape, she had begun to notice other curious things about the forest as well. Like how the densely wooded landscape had steadily and subtly changed. The ambience seemed tinged, almost. A sepia-like tone washed over the plants and trees so that all appeared almost entirely brown, punctuated by the dark silhouetted blacks of branches and leaves. They writhed, indistinguishable from one another. Still, her joyous sense of adventurous freedom had hardly faltered and Lora continued on, becoming evermore aware that the path ahead was becoming increasingly treacherous. Thorn-covered thickets threatened to claw at her skin, penetrating the denim of her jeans and scratching at the pale flesh underneath. Lora grew timid in her steps, becoming disenchanted in the forest’s solitude.
For the first time since she’d stepped foot in those woods, Lora stopped, and knew instantly that she was utterly alone. It crushed her, sending the girl to the floor. She sobbed quietly to herself, feeling the pine needles dig into her hands as she grasped at the earth. As she was on the verge of giving up and simply laying down to die, she looked to her left and saw them a foot from her reddened, tear-streaked face. A bush, packed full of ripe blackberries, as appetizing as anything she’d ever seen. Lora ravenously wolfed down more than she could count, as quickly as she could pick them, and after a nourishing feast she lay with her back against the nearest tree where she slept like a baby. Someone uncorrupted.
When Lora opened her eyes, she saw to her surprise that the sun remained unmoved. The area around her had once again changed in hue though, from the sickening reddish-brown to one of a much more affable pink appearance. Sparkling particles danced and winked through the lush clearing ahead, leading the way. The air now tasted sugary, like Halloween candy. Lora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to go trick-or-treating. Maybe she never even had to begin with. Every sad recollection and vicious intrusive thought slid right off the young girl as she concentrated on the soft crunches her feet made and nothing else, unable to touch her. Eventually, when Lora had to stop once more to regain her bearings - having abandoned a linear path hours before - she realized to her stunned delight that the woods weren’t quite as empty as she’d previously thought.
Through a gap in the trees, past an impassable grouping of thorny thickets, Lora spied a congregation of creatures that she couldn’t quite explain. Even to herself, even though they inspired no fear, their nonsensical appearance left her paralyzed beyond reproach; completely frozen where she stood, and yet grinning ear-to-ear. Cooling themselves from the heat of the summer sun in the shade of a monolithic toadstool, fluttered a peaceful assortment of strange winged women surrounded by translucent stubby things whose jovial laughing mouths led to no innards. Frogs the size of cows croaked from the sidelines and other ineffable beasts hunched and clung to the taller branches above. Lora yearned to join the scene, to be among friendly faces, but she innately understood that were she to call out, they wouldn’t hear her. Let alone begin to understand. Crestfallen in her exclusion, but invigorated by the magical presence she now knew to truly exist, Lora went on her way. Hopeful of meeting someone or something that could take her pain away, if only for a little while.
The tinny brass screech of horns bellowed in the distance, but from which direction, she didn’t know. Contrary to everything she’d learned from books about wilderness survival, wandering aimlessly proved to be the correct approach, and Lora found herself looking in on another group. Who, this time, seemed much more humanoid in appearance, for the most part. Men and women, of over two dozen in number and all intricately clothed in ornate robes and dresses as if attending some grand ball and not just a clearing in the woods stood around, enjoying one another's company. Dwarves pottered about, shrilly chuckling with each other over the din as the brass players began to toot a song likely never before heard by mortal ears that even the sunflowers seemed to dance along to. It was beautiful. To Lora, at least. The partygoers seemed nonplussed by the sweet sounds, going about their conversations and business as if they’d heard them every day of their infinite lifespan. A sickly stream of opaque, swirling orange fog separated the two parties, and again Lora knew that her pleading shouts would have no effect on the beings should she try to call out to them. Distraught, she staggered away, crippled by the dreadful loneliness which was now very much unbearable.
She wandered as if in a daze; unthinking, unfeeling. Ready to perish. The air, once sweet and warm, had turned bitterly sour and in her terror Lora craned her neck to the sky, shivering, and saw that the sun had vanished. The perfect blue sea above had begun to degenerate, turning darker by the second. It exuded an implied emptiness, devoid of stars, as if everything she had felt and seen was all just some cruel joke played by no-one. A thick, miasmic fog began to form around her, and the trees grew less dense and full of audible life. The fetid stench rising up from the swamp was intoxicating. Sickening. Lora’s belly rumbled, begging for food as if it hadn’t ever been full, and she began to weep once more, imploring some vague altruistic force to save her from her torment. She screamed into the blackened sky until her bone-dry throat stung and she could scream no longer.
Then, as quickly as she’d entered, she was no longer among trees, surrounded by the vastness of an unending and desolate desert. Lora didn’t care. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder to see what she’d left behind, she simply continued forward; unable to go on any other way. A violent wind was picking up, carrying clouds of coarse gray dust which slashed at the girl’s eyes. The dunes stretched onto the horizon in patterns that seemed to repeat infinitely and they had nothing to offer except for slow and excruciating death; a suffocating abyss.
Lora’s knees were long since weary, buckling under her meager weight, but she didn’t stop. Even though the cold, dead sand looked like a fine enough place to fall asleep for the last time. As one leg gave out and she tumbled to the ashen desert floor, Lora stared glaringly into the distance; searching for something deadly that might have the courtesy to look her in the eyes before it killed her. She saw no great and hungry beast with razor-sharp teeth and killer claws ready to devour what was left of her, but an ocean instead. Black and unforgiving. Lora lurched in its direction, and found herself on the shore. Ahead, around an arched rock formation of inexplicable nature, danced a number of fairies, male and female; waving their sparkling wands freely as if entirely without inhibition with their pale white skin exposed for all to see. Cherubs writhed floating in a congealed mass above the figures atop the formation; a loving family, crowned in shining white light. The beings reveled soundlessly as Lora watched on, still observing with fascination even as her body gave in to her exhaustion and she collapsed onto the brittle, jagged rocks at her feet. The divine group seemed to take notice of her then, and some laughed at her misfortune. Others whispered mocking jeers which stabbed at Lora, at her very being, even worse than the inhospitable ground she’d fallen onto. The insults became less direct and softer, but still impossibly cruel. They said cryptic, confusing things like ‘This one’s still breathing.’ and ‘Get her out of here.’ Lora knew that she wasn’t wanted. Not there, or anywhere else. The entire world seemed to throb in and out in a deep wavering much like the ripples on the dark, impenetrable sea and the young girl felt hands on her. Picking her up. Delivering her.
Flashes became another place entirely, until finally Lora could see again. She was at home, being lifted out by strange men. Scorching blue lights streaked her vision through the slats of rotting wood nailed to the windows and a wailing enveloped the night, drawing closer. More sirens. As she passed through the living room, Lora saw her father. All sticky and red in the face. Crushed. Glued to his chair, and bashed in. In that sinking, numbed moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity, the girl knew that the overdose she’d taken hadn’t worked, and that she wouldn’t be free. That they were going to bring her back, so that she could pay for what she’d done. Empty pill bottles littered the carpet along with the stained-brown wraps of her father’s stash, mingling with the usual cluttered garbage. It hadn’t been enough, it could never be enough. But as the blinding white light of the ambulance's interior swallowed her, Lora felt herself slipping away. She fell backwards, forever, and while the paramedics hurried about their duty and their desperate pleas became less and less clear, Lora was glad that it was all finally over.