Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Creepy Stories That Won’t Let Go – 9 Hours

Episode Date: December 13, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #nosleep #paranormal #creepy #hauntingstories #nightmarish #ghostencounters #unsettlingtales Creepy Stories That Won’t Let Go – 9 Hours is a relentless collection of spine-tingling tales that linger long after the lights go out. From real-life paranormal encounters to unsettling ghost stories and eerie mysteries, each story is crafted to grip your imagination and haunt your thoughts. This 9-hour marathon will keep your heart racing and your mind on edge, proving that some fears never fade. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, hauntingstories, ghostencounters, paranormalactivity, nightmares, sleeplessnights, eerieencounters, darkmysteries, supernaturalhorror, spinechilling, unsettlingtales, terrorstories, nightmarish, hauntednights, frighteningexperiences

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With Sky Sports and Sports Extra Merry Sportsmas It all started with a girl feeling down Drained of energy and with no appetite She wasn't in the mood for much, so she simply asked for a juice, some paper, and a pen. On that paper, she scribbled a mix of thoughts. Most of it was hard to read, chaotic, scattered. But one haunting line stood out, a line that would later echo in the minds of investigators

for years, I'm scared to think I'm dying, and the only light is close to me. Oh God! This chilling sentence would soon become the centerpiece of a baffling mystery. The events that followed left an indelible mark on Spain's history. This is the story of Gloria Martinez, a case that still raises more questions than answers. A life interrupted. Let's rewind to October 30, 1992, at precisely 7 a.m. An ordinary couple from Alicante received a phone call that would shatter their lives.

The call came from a nurse at a psychiatric facility where their eldest daughter, Gloria, had been admitted the day before. The news was shocking, Gloria had vanished in the middle of the night. The nurse explained, almost too casually, that Gloria had escaped. Apparently, she jumped out of a window, ran through the garden in complete darkness, and somehow scaled a two-meter high wall. The real kicker. This had happened five hours earlier, and no one had bothered to call the police.

The nurse admitted that the facility was still debating whether to involve authorities. And so began one of Spain's most perplexing cases. Meet Gloria. Gloria Martinez-Ruiz was born on January 29th. 1975, in Alicante. She was the eldest of two daughters in a close-knit family. Her younger sister, Maria Jose, adored her. The two were ordinary kids living a typical childhood. Gloria, in particular, stood out. She was tall, slim, and had chestnut brown hair. But there was one small thing, she was extremely near-sighted, with over eight diopters in each eye.

Without glasses, she could barely see. Despite her vision-challenged, she was extremely changes, Gloria was bright and hardworking. She had friends, loved her studies, and was deeply into music. By the age of 17, she was juggling advanced piano studies at the conservatory and preparing for university entrance exams. She seemed like a girl with her future all mapped out. But appearances can be deceiving. A silent struggle, at 14, Gloria's life began to unravel.

Anxiety, insomnia, and anorexia crept in. At first, her parents tried to manage it on their own. They talked to her, supported her, and hoped it would pass. But things only got worse. Soon, Gloria was having panic attacks and experiencing hallucinations. Her parents realized they needed professional help. Enter Dr. Maria Victoria Soler-Lopente, a psychiatrist. Gloria began therapy and seemed to improve, at least on the surface.

She was calmer, less anxious, and more focused. But the darkness never fully left her. Even as she battled her demons, Gloria kept pushing forward. She continued her studies, practiced piano, and maintained a semblance of normalcy. Her parents, believing she was on the road to recovery, let her go out with friends and enjoy her teenage years. A night out gone wrong. One night, Gloria was particularly restless.

She begged her parents to let her go out to a club with friends. They agreed but made her promise to stay out of trouble. Before she left, they gave her the prescribed medication and dropped her off at the club entrance. But something went wrong. Gloria didn't return home. Her parents panicked and called the police. Hours later, Gloria showed up, disoriented. She claimed she had taken the wrong bus by accident.

Her parents believed her, but Dr. Soler told a different story. According to the psychiatrist, Gloria had suffered a severe panic attack at the club, lost all sense of time and place, and fled in a daze. The incident marked a turning point. A week later, Dr. Soler told Gloria's parents that her condition had worsened dramatically. She insisted Gloria needed to be admitted to a specialized psychiatric facility immediately. The Torres de San Luis Clinic. The chosen facility was the exclusive Torres de San Luis Clinic, located in Alpha's Del Pye, about 40 minutes from Alicante.

It was marketed as a serene haven for healing, surrounded by forests and close to the sea. But this luxury came at a steep cost, 45,000 pacedas per day, a small fortune at the time. To ease the financial burden, Dr. Soler arranged a discount for the family, reducing the daily fee by 10,000 pacedas. The arrangement seemed like a godsend. On the morning of October 29, 1992, Gloria's parents brought her to the clinic. She was nervous but composed. They kissed her goodbye, handed over her small suitcase, and left her in the care of the staff. Little did they know, this would be the last time they would see their daughter.

A desperate escape, the events of that night are murky, pieced together from the accounts of six staff members present at the clinic. Gloria was assigned to B. 1, a ground floor room. Shortly after being settled in, she became agitated and aggressive. The staff restrained her to the bed and administered a cocktail of sedatives, including Largictil, Signagin, and Halopyridol. The drugs knocked her out cold. When she awoke in the afternoon, she seemed subdued.

She joined others in the dining area but barely touched her food. Instead, she asked for a glass of juice, some paper, and a pen. She began writing. Her notes were disjointed, reflecting her heavily sedated state. Yet one phrase stood out, I'm scared to think I'm dying, and the only light is close to me. Oh God! Later that evening, Gloria was again restrained and sedated. By 1.30 a.m., she woke up and asked to use the bathroom.

The staff unbound her, helped her change into a white t-shirt and blue sweatpants, and escorted her to the restroom. What happened next remains a mystery. According to the staff, Gloria suddenly bolted. She ran to her room, opened the window, and jumped out barefoot. She left behind her glasses and shoes. It was pitch black. Is ummy mohakan and cash the way agate when I thought Lannaveramalak.

It was carolafoil o'hian o'clock at O'clock in my child, Ponga, O'Aimannock the service of slantia, a caroegglet in either. What's it to hear of Lowe? And, O'Rig Twerhik thirdered it to Rehantle, if there's the questions of Gilae.

I'm then that the carolat. Marendt, My Child Punk A.E. Le Corle at O'Iemannock the service of slantia. It was Christmas in Dublin. And Puss was in Boots where he found better than half price on a oil. electrical beauty, including Philip Shaver I-9,000, was 624-099, now only 224 euro-99. Don't miss out. Shop in-store or online. Gift happily ever after. Boots. Subject to availability

selected stores offer in 6th of January, 2026. Look outside, with no moonlight, and the facility was surrounded by a high wall. Yet somehow, Gloria managed to disappear into the night. Five hours too late, despite Gloria's dramatic escape, no one called the police until 7 a.m., a full five hours later. During that time, the staff searched the clinic grounds and the surrounding area but found no trace of her. When they finally contacted the authorities and Gloria's parents, panic set in. Search teams combed through the area, checking wells, septic tanks, and the nearby forest. They even inspected the clinic's boiler, fearing the worst. But there were no signs of

Gloria. Unanswered questions, the investigation raised more questions. questions than answers. How did Gloria, heavily sedated and nearly blind without her glasses, managed to navigate the dark, unfamiliar terrain? Why were there no footprints or signs of struggle near the clinic? And why did the staff wait so long to alert authorities? Some witnesses claimed to have seen Gloria after her escape. A gas station attendant in Altia, 30 minutes away, reported seeing a girl matching her description

making a phone call. But Gloria had no money, and without her glasses, it seemed unlike she could even find her way to a phone booth. Another tip came from a camping ground-era witness claimed Gloria was seen with a group of French tourists. Investigators also noted the name, Vincent, in Gloria's notes. Was he a friend? A boyfriend? Or just a figment of her imagination?

A case gone cold. Despite these leads, Gloria's trail went cold. The disappearance was soon overshadowed by another high-profile case, the infamous Alcasser murders, which dominated headlines. Gloria's family was left to fend for themselves, putting up posters and pleading for information. But the years passed, and hope faded. By 1994, the Torres de San Luis Clinic had shut down. A police search of the abandoned facility uncovered a small stash of Gloria's belongings

hidden in a wall cavity, items that had somehow been overlooked during the initial investigation. Theories and shadows, over the years, various theories emerged. Some believed Gloria was abducted or fell victim to foul play. Others speculated she had a psychotic break and wandered off into the wilderness. In 1999, an anonymous letter claimed Gloria had been taken to a nearby house by two women. The tip led nowhere. The case officially closed in 2000, but for Gloria's family, the pain never ended. In 2009, a court ordered Dr. Soler and the clinic's owners to pay the family compensation,

acknowledging their negligence. A haunting legacy, today, Gloria's disappearance remains an enigma. Investigators occasionally revisit the case, but no new evidence has come to light. For her family, the unanswered questions are a daily torment. Gloria Martinez's story is a haunting reminder of how quickly a life can vanish, leaving behind only whispers of what might have been. We begin. This story begins with the creation of the famous show Ghost Adventures. It was an original idea by Zach Bagan's, who initially wanted to make an independent documentary about parapsychology.

The main idea was very simple. Each episode was called a lockdown, because that was literally what they did, go to a haunted place, investigate its history, interview witnesses, and spend an entire night locked inside, hence the name, lockdown. These lockdowns weren't just that. During the interviews, they would find active spots, rooms in those locations with the most activity, where people reported seeing shadows, feeling presences, cold spots, and even. claimed to have been attacked. So, during the night, the team would lock themselves inside. They used night vision cameras, EMF meters, spirit boxes, and voice recorders. And I must say, the show was a complete success. It began airing in October 2008, and from then on, everything was a hit. However, we must point out that it was not without controversy. Parasicologists are usually very

respectful during investigations, they're calm, polite, and use good vocabulary. But Zach, to provoke activity, was quite aggressive. He would disrespect and insult the entities, and people online criticized him heavily. Still, I must stress that the show was a hit. The original team consisted of Zach Begans and Nick Groff, but they realized something was missing. They wanted someone to film them, to be with them, a secondary character who would be there. And that's how they met Aaron Goodwin. They met in Las Vegas, told him about the project, and of course, he happily joined, unaware he would become a key part of the adventure. We don't know much.

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We know he was born on April 1st, 1976, in Portland, Oregon. And I must tell you, his resume is impressive. He's currently a tech equipment specialist, camera operator, and co-investigator. Previously, he was a camera operator for the UFC and for the premieres of several movies. He always preferred being behind the camera, not in front of it. He didn't like being the center of attention. But on ghost adventures, he became the perfect bait, even though he didn't want to. They would always leave him alone, put him in a room with a recorder, in complete darkness,

and he always got the worst of it. On one occasion, Aaron is believed to have been possessed by an entity from the Bobby Mackies, and on another, he was attacked by a malevolent spirit. As you can see, he always got the worst part, and, of course, fans loved it. Over the years, the team changed. Nick left, new members arrived, but Zach and Aaron were always there. Professionally, Aaron was doing very well. And personally, it seemed that he was too.

Those who work with Aaron describe him as a big teddy bear, a large, strong man with a tough appearance, but very sweet and honest. And his fans online say things like, I've met Aaron many, many times, he's literally the sweetest guy to ever exist, and he's always happy to give a hug and take a photo. Several relationships are known, but one in particular stands out. On January 22nd, 2018, he began dating Victoria Lynn, the woman he considered the great love of his life. Their first date was reportedly practically perfect, and from that moment, they knew they were meant to be together. After a year of dating, Aaron was completely sure about her and deeply in love. In fact, on his Instagram, he made a post that read, I'm so lucky to have her in my life. She helps me when I'm feeling down and always makes me laugh.

I always feel safe when she's by my side, holding my hand. Thank you, my love. Aaron was so in love and so sure of it that that same year he proposed at Disneyland. And of course, Victoria said yes. Everything was joy and happiness. The photos were everywhere, media outlets shared them, they were mentioned on the radio, TV, and online. To all the fans, they were the perfect couple. Everything they posted showed them as very much in love, always hugging, smiling, sharing jokes.

They were a perfect match. Given the news, people started to investigate Victoria. Victoria, because, at first glance, there was nothing about her online. In truth, there's very little information about Victoria Lynn. We know she was a college golfer and dreamed of becoming a professional. However, she had to abandon this dream after being diagnosed with a rare illness called Achalasia. Ackalasia is a swallowing disorder that affects the esophagus.

After her diagnosis, she decided to give a voice to others dealing with chronic illnesses. She used her social media to spread awareness, gave talks, and in July 2024, she posted pictures of her surgical scar on Instagram, sharing the following message. My condolences to my fellow Achalasia warriors. I went two years without answers, with medical manipulation and misdiagnosis. Awareness is important. That same December, she appeared on the motivational podcast Charis Khan Ash, where she again spoke on the topic. She was completely honest. She was completely honest. honest and direct, and because of that, she was very loved on social media. People appreciated her, and of course, they supported her relationship with Aaron Goodwin. In 2020, they got

married. But they couldn't celebrate it right away, so they postponed it until 2022, when they finally celebrated in grand style. The couple married at none other than Disneyland, specifically in front of the haunted mansion. Naturally, the world went crazy. The location, the outfits, the couple themselves, it was the perfect place. The media widely covered the event. Time passed, and we reached 2024. The couple was still as happy as ever. In fact, on social media, they looked more united than ever.

On April 1st, Victoria posted for Aaron's birthday. On August 9th, they posted photos celebrating their second anniversary. Aaron wrote, Two years since I married my best friend. I'm so lucky. It was Christmas in Dublin. And Puss was in Boots where he found better than half price on electrical beauty. Including number seven silver cordless mirror was 69 Euro99, now only 25 Euro99.

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to remember with Sky Sports and Sports Extra Merry Sportsmas To have her in my life and at the end of October, they took a trip to Honolulu, where they visited Kualoa Ranch. There, they took part in a Jurassic Park-themed tour. They explored the attraction, exhibitions, and the whole experience was recorded by both. Aaron made a vlog and posted it on YouTube. In that video, they looked genuinely happy, smiling, joking, laughing.

They made a great couple and were very connected. And the beautiful moments didn't end there. New Year's came, they posted pictures. Valentine's Day, he planned a date. But what Aaron didn't know was that his fairy tale was about to end. According to TMZ, it all happened in March 2025. The Ghost Adventures team had scheduled a new investigation. They chose a haunted place, did some research, and by March, they were there filming.

First general investigation, then interviews, then lockdown. And it was during that lockdown that Aaron received a call. All the cameras were recording, all the microphones were on. So, everything was captured. That was when Aaron froze, because the police were telling him that his wife had been arrested. He didn't understand anything. Why had she been taken? Why was she in prison?

Zach Bagan's has confirmed that what was recorded that day will never be made public. The police told Aaron Goodwin, that his wife was arrested for attempted murder. And, of course, the man was devastated. Aaron and Victoria shared many passions, movies, nature, legends, ghosts, and also true crime. Victoria, in particular, was a big fan of documentaries about the topic. And it was in early 2024 that she discovered one she found fascinating, Control Plus Alt Plus Desire, a paramount documentary about the Grant Amato case.

We have a full video on the channel about this story, but in case you haven't seen it, here's a brief summary. Grant Tiernan Amato was one of three sons of Margaret and then Chad Robert Amato. After a lot of studying, he got a job as a nurse at Advent Health Orlando. At first, everything seemed to go well there, but in June 2018, he was fired. The reasons were shocking, he was under suspicion for theft, improper medication administration to patients, and allegedly showing suicidal thoughts. From there, everything in his life spiraled downhill fast. With that history, he couldn't find work anywhere, no one hired him, no one called. And then Grant had a brilliant idea, become a streamer. He signed up for Twitch, bought a webcam, and started streaming

video games. To be continued. He had a brilliant idea, and that was to become a streamer. He signed up on Twitch, bought a webcam, and started streaming video games. But as expected, it didn't go well at all. No one watched him, not even his friends. His parents didn't support him either, so the guy started lying. He told everyone that he was very successful, that thousands of people were watching him, that he had fans, but that he wasn't making much money yet.

He told them he would soon start earning, that they shouldn't be impatient. Little by little, he asked his parents to fund his project, which they initially agreed to. They lent him money for webcams, screens, microphones, new keyboards, they kept giving him money. But the truth is, what he was telling them was a lie. The money they lent him wasn't invested in his streams, but rather in adult content sites, specifically on a site called My Freecams. There, he met several webcam models, but one in particular caught his attention, Addie suit. He found her very attractive, felt like he had fallen in love with her,

and little by little started donating money to her. She paid attention to him. He donated a bit more, and she gave him more attention. The donations were paid with his parents' money. As time went on, it spiraled out of control. He paid for exclusive content, private sessions, and also sent her gifts. The obsession grew to the point that he believed they were a couple. But the girl didn't even know him, he was just another follower, another fan who sent her things and money.

For her, it was just work, nothing more. But for Grant, it was a love story. It reached a point where the parents no longer wanted to give him money. He hadn't bought a new camera or microphone. There were no changes or... Oh, Amy, my little one. I ask myself a million questions every day. When will you give me your first smile?

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gift happily ever after. Boots. Selected stores worth price based on standard selling price of individual items while stocks last offer ends 24th December. Progress. He wasn't earning anything at all. So they cut him off. Grant responded by stealing their credit cards and ended up spending more than $200,000 in their name. The family debts were enormous.

It was so outrageous that they sent him to a rehabilitation center, which cost them $5,000. He returned home and was given a second chance. They let him stay in the house on the condition that he wouldn't contact the girl, wouldn't call or write to her. He gave his word, but secretly asked his. mother to let him call her. When the father found out, he kicked him out of the house. That's when Grant decided to end everything. On January 24, 2019, while his mother was at the computer, Grant shot her in the head. Then he waited for his father to arrive, and as soon as he came in, he shot him twice. He grabbed his father's phone, sent a message to his brother Cody,

and asked him to please come home. When Cody arrived, Grant did the same, he shot and killed him, then tried to make it look like Cody had done everything. That he had entered the house, killed the parents, and then taken his own life. But of course, the police didn't believe him. On August 12th of that same year, Grant was found guilty of three counts of first-degree murder and sentence to life in prison without the possibility of parole. The case is obviously much more detailed and extensive, and as I mentioned, it's already covered on the channel. Still, the summary is very important now to understand what comes next, because the Paramount

documentary about this case fascinated Victoria. We don't know exactly which part impacted her most, but there are two versions. The first is that the woman empathized with Grant, something about him caught her attention. The second is that she became very interested in the U.S. prison system. Everything is public, you can go to a prison website, look up an inmate, get their ID number, a few days, you can send letters, gifts, books, and even money. If there's trust, you can be authorized to call the prison, usually collect calls, all of which are monitored. Letters are also read. There are many rules and restrictions, only plain white paper, only two colors,

no explicit content, and you cannot talk about any crimes. Apparently, all of this intrigued Victoria. So in 2024, she sent letters to Grant Amato. Again, we're talking about 2004, two years after she married Aaron Goodwin. That year, their marriage seemed very happy.

They posted all kinds of content on social media, hugging, kissing, traveling. They seemed very in love. Aaron considered her the love of his life. But behind his back, Victoria was beginning a romantic relationship. with Grant a motto. Supposedly, at first, they were just friends. But over the weeks, they liked each other more and more. This relationship moved from letters to phone calls.

As I said, all of this was monitored by police, and at that stage, there were supposedly no red flags, no explicit or sinister content. However, something eventually slipped through. Grant managed to sneak a mobile phone into prison, and they began communicating through it. With this phone, the police completely lost track. These were not letters they could read, or calls they could listen to, or visits they could monitor. It was a hidden phone that, for them, did not exist. And through it, they began to plan the murder of Aaron Goodwin. Some sources say his death was to be able to be together. According to Victoria, Aaron would never let her go, would not agree to a divorce. That's why she wanted him dead. Other sources say that divorce wouldn't get her much,

Aaron had a lot of money, and she wouldn't gain much from separation. But if she became a widow, she would inherit everything. Either way, Victoria wanted him dead. But she couldn't kill him, if she did, she'd go to jail. If someone else did it, all would be fine. The plan, then, was to find a hitman. But she didn't know anyone, so Grant, who was in prison, could help her. In 2024, Grant was in Charlotte Correctional Institution in Florida. There were all kinds of criminals there, thieves, attackers, and also killers. Perhaps one of them would be willing to get his hands dirty, and indeed, they found one.

They gave him the information and agreed on a payment of 11,100,000. to be paid in two parts. The first payment would be $2,500, and after Aaron's death, Victoria would pay the rest. They set the plan for October 2024. Ghost Adventures would be filming in California and... This Christmas on Sky, you can turn a silent night into stoppage time to lice. An old mince pie into a stunning try. It's stupendous from Lancaster

And a winter chill Into an alley-pally thrill Luke the new Glitla With over 50 Premier League games Exclusive Champions Cup and URC And all the darts Turn your Christmas into a sportsmust to remember With Sky Sports and Sports Extra

Merry Sportsmas Oh Amy My little one I ask myself a million questions every day When will you give me your first smile How much sleep do you need How can I help you and your big brother? to get along.

At the HSE's Mychild.I.E and in the free MyChall books you'll find the answers you need from doctors, midwives, public health nurses, dieticians and lots of other experts. Mychild.aE. expert advice for every step of pregnancy,

baby and toddler health. From the HSEE. It was Christmas in Dublin and Puss was in boots where he found better than half-priced premium beauty star gifts. Including Mac All-Star Beauty Kit Worth a hundred and seven euro

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The location, interviews Schedule, Hotel, everything She sent it to Grant Who passed it to the Hitman On October 2nd Aaron was going to work he would be in California with the team and spend the night at a hotel. All the information was in the hitman's hands.

Then, Victoria sent this message to Grant Amato, I'm so nervous. I can't believe this is happening. How did I get here? Am I a bad person? To which Grant replied, why do you think that? She answered, because I chose to end his existence instead of divorcing him. When the date came, the woman wouldn't stop. texting, she was nervous. On October 3rd, Grant wrote the following to the alleged hitman.

Right now he's sleeping in the hotel room. I need to know what's going on. Can you update me? But that same day, miraculously, the police confiscated the mobile phone. Communication stopped. Days and weeks went by, and Aaron Goodwin remained alive. The happy couple continued posting photos on social media, traveling, smiling, seemingly in love. The end of the year came, then Aaron's birthday. Victoria looked more in love than ever. Valentine's Day came, same thing. And now you may ask, why was this woman still free? Why didn't the police arrest her? The answer, they were investigating everything. And finally, on March 4, 2025, they put all the pieces together. With the truth uncovered, on March 6, 2025, Victoria Lee Goodwin was arrested and formally charged

with solicitation to commit murder and conspiracy to commit murder. She is currently detained under a $500,000 bail. When Aaron found out, he was in shock. He didn't understand why his wife did this. He thought they were happy, that they loved each other. That Victoria was the love of his life. In fact, according to him, they never had problems. So far, he hasn't spoken to the media. However, on March 12, he granted

Victoria her wish, not only did he file for divorce, but he also requested that no alimony be granted to either party and that all shared assets and debts be handled according to Nevada law. The divorce petition ended with the following words. There is no possibility of reconciliation between husband and wife. On March 11th, Victoria appeared before the judge, and the defense claimed none of this was real. She denied conspiring to kill Aaron and said the messages were just daydreaming, fantasizing, nothing more. She never intended to kill him, it was all imagination, a story. She also said their marriage was in crisis, they argued, they had disagreements, and that the past year had not been good. But according to Aaron, that's a lie,

they were happier than ever. Or at least, that's what he believed. But the most sure The shocking part comes now, according to several sources, Victoria allegedly sent money to the prison. We don't know how much, but before the judge, she claimed it was only to pay for Grant's phone, nothing more. It wasn't for a hitman, just for a phone. At this moment, no one else has been charged. The hitman remains unidentified. As for Grant Amato, there are multiple theories.

It's believed he may strike a deal with the prosecution. He's currently serving a life sentence, but if he testifies against Victoria, he might get prison benefits. So in the end, this case might actually work out in his favor. Unfortunately, there's no more information yet. The next hearing is scheduled for March 25th, so until then, we'll have to wait. So now it's your turn, what do you think of the case? And if you want more information? Would you like me to do a part two?

The end. This story begins with a town, one unlike any other in the area. Unlike the typical industrial routes of surrounding villages, where communities were built around factories and mines, my hometown has a distinct history. It's centered around an old cemetery that once surrounded a small church, a haunting setup, if you ask me. According to a neighbor who's been living here for over 50 years. And now a look at the forecast. We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of sunshine to come, and a long-term, Outlook that's bright for Ireland.

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Gift happily ever after. Boots. Subject to availability selected stores offer in 6th of January 2026. People were once executed in the nearby fields during the Civil War.

That eerie past lingers in our minds and it's always made me cautious even with family folklore. I encourage everyone to dig deeper, check facts, and never take things at face value. So when the unusual events started happening in our family home, I wondered how much of it was connected to the town's dark past. Things first kicked off when I was at a low point emotionally, and maybe that's when I started noticing more, like a heightened sensitivity to the energies around me.

My mom and I, especially, seem to experience strange occurrences in the house. Sometimes they follow a pattern, other times, they're entirely unpredictable, which leads us to believe there might be more than one entity present. And some of these presences don't just linger, they haunt, often targeting more than one apartment in the building. One particularly memorable event happened a couple of weeks ago. I was alone at my boyfriend Daniel's house, his family having left to visit friends with Daniel's grandmother.

I was tidying up in his room, ready to edit some videos, when I heard footsteps upstairs. Assuming it was Daniel's dad, who's not one for social gatherings, I wasn't surprised that he might have stayed behind. I finished up, stepped into the hallway, and froze, every door was wide open. Daniel's dad isn't one to leave doors open, and I called his name a few times, but he didn't respond. He's a bit hard of hearing, so I wasn't too concerned, but I decided to head to the bathroom. Now, there's always been something unnerving about the attic and the room next to Daniels. It's like an invisible weight hangs in those rooms, and whenever I'm there,

I instinctively closed the doors. But today, I didn't think twice, I went into the and planned to close everything up when I finished. However, when I stepped out, all the doors were shut. My gut told me something was off. I called Daniel's dad's name again, then pulled out my phone and called him. He wasn't in the house, no one was. Everyone, including Daniel, was out, and I was very much alone. That realization made my skin crawl.

I packed up my laptop, charger, and everything else, intending to go downstairs and wait until someone returned. Just as I reached the hallway again, the attic door swung open, and the bathroom light flickered on. The bathroom and attic doors face each other as if someone had stepped out of one and into the other. My nerves frayed, but I didn't want to leave the bathroom light on and risk irritating Daniel's parents. So, clutching my things, I closed the attic door, turned off the bathroom light, and headed down the stairs as calmly as possible. Yet I could hear the soft, quick patter of feet moving from the bathroom toward Daniel's room.

I shut the door behind me, didn't look back, and sprinted downstairs, where I sat on the sofa, my hands shaking as I called my mom. I wasn't staying alone in that house for another minute. In the month since, I've mostly avoided that house, preferring Daniel's room because the lighting is better. The lighting in my own house is always dim and cold, it takes a small army of lamps to brighten up even one corner, and nighttime seems especially dark, way more so than any other place. It's strange, I can't help but feel like shadows lurk just out of sight. especially when my dog, who sleeps at the foot of my bed, starts growling at seemingly nothing. My dog is my protector. He used to feel uncomfortable in this house as a puppy, sensing things that weren't there, spinning in circles, growling, and bearing his teeth at invisible

threats. Now, as an adult, he's calm, except when he feels something unusual. He'll suddenly stiffen, growl at the door, the closet, or even the desk, like he's tracking something moving around the room. Often, I'll feel anxious and breathless before he reacts, my pulse racing until he calms down. It's as though he's sensing the same strange force as me, or maybe my unease sets him off. Either way, the nights are unsettling, and even when I do manage to sleep, I'm on edge. Then there's the mirror, an intricately decorated Moroccan piece my stepdad bought on one of his many travels. He loves picking up unique items, a musical instrument from Thailand, a handcrafted mirror from Morocco with two doors that resemble a palace gate.

The mirror has been in our house for over a decade, and from day one, it's given my mom and me chills. It's not just a feeling of discomfort, it's like staring into a gateway of nightmares. For some reason, mirrors hold an unusual power in this house. Fans of my paranormal blog will know I've shared countless stories about the strange energy around them. And this mirror in particular, well, let's just say it's had its share of spooky moments. One afternoon while my mom and I were eating downstairs, we noticed flashes of light from the upper floor.

The mirror hangs on the landing, so we had a clear view. The flashes grew so intense that they reflected through the whole dining area, even blinding us momentarily. I finally focused on the top of the stairs and saw the mirror doors swinging open and shut. But here's the strange part, there was no sound when they closed. Trying to explain this rationally, we figured maybe vibrations from the neighbor's shower next door caused it. But when they left on vacation, the mirror kept opening and closing. Finally, we took it. And now, a look at the forecast.

We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of sunshine to come, and a long-term outlook that's bright for Ireland. At air grid, our forecast is for a sustainable energy future. We're upgrading the electricity grid so every home, business and community can benefit. We're powering up Ireland Learn more at airgrid.e On the many days of Christmas The Guinness Storehouse brings to thee A visit filled with festivity

Experience a story of Ireland's most iconic beer In a stunning Christmas setting at the Guinness Storehouse Enjoy seven floors of interactive exhibitions And finish your visit with breathtaking views Of Dublin City from the home of Guinness Live entertainment, great memories And the Gravity Burr, my goodness It's Christmas at the Guinness Storehouse.

Book now at ginnestorehouse.com. Get the facts. Be drinkaware. Visit drinkaware.com. T'was Christmas in Dublin. And Puss was in Boots where he found better than half-priced star gifts on festive favourites, including best-selling favorites and premium brands.

Don't miss out. Shop in-store or online. Gift happily ever after. Boots. Selected stores while stocks last to offer ends 24th of December. Down, placed it on a table with the doors open, and watched it for hours, daring it to move. After an entire day of waiting, nothing happened.

We gave up, put the mirror back on the wall, and tied the doors shut with a cord to keep them closed. But a couple of days later, we found the mirror at the foot of the stairs, having apparently fallen without making a sound, even though no one remembers getting up in the night. And the dogs didn't bark either. Despite our insistence on getting rid of the mirror, my stepdad has a sound. sentimental attachment to it, leaving us at an impasse. Living here has become an exercise in endurance, a constant weighing of the strange versus the explainable. My mom and I often debate each event, bouncing theories back and forth, but we always end up with more questions than answers.

If they had walked like, have made an exhaustive rake of, the area would have realized that there, in front of the Lorino helmet was written, in the sand the name, Lola if they had done the search on foot, would have seen some footprints and those, same fingerprints would have taken it to. The body that was exactly up. On December 28, 2014 in Uruguay, a fact that put the world occurred, whole legs above and is that a girl, only 15 years disappeared after giving. An innocent walk. Altus did not disappear on the beach, nights hours, nor in an area, that he had a bad reputation did it in full, noon to everyone's eyes, but it was like that, as if the earth had swallowed it. Nobody knew anyone saw anything in some. Days later his body appeared in a

area that previously the police already had reviewed that is where the sinister case of Lola Comnellez, Lola Luna-Konnelles-Belmonte Good, aries Argentina on November 4th, 1999 being the only daughter of marriage, by Adriana Belmonte and Diego Comnalez and, granddaughter of the famous chef Beatrice, Connellaz Lola had two half-brothers, greater fruit of the previous marriage of, his father and precisely G to his sister, Florence we know enough things about. She, according to Florentia L-O-L infected her, his joy everyone liked.

I laughed at others and they were interested. Artistic activities read dance, go out with friends to help people and, of course the animals are why, debated between being a psychologist or studying. Animal behavior at 15 years. She was a very determined girl knew what, I wanted to do and did not stop until, its objectives of fact, a good day. He decided that he no longer wanted to eat meat and, I was supposedly getting it, that she wanted it and everything.

World foreshadowed her a future. Brilliant at the end of 2014 I lived in the, Cabalido Buenos Aires neighborhood next to his parents and studied high school in Belgrano Eve Lissio according to several. Fuentes was a very sociable girl and where new friends was doing and another very characteristic thing in it is that he loved to travel and for it to celebrate his 15 years his parents. They promised that in January they would travel to New York but before that his godmother.

Claudia Fernandez said to invite her to, travel with her to Beacon Bar. Uruguay Beacon Bar is a Balmiero from the Department of Rocha located in the final section of the beacons is a seemingly quiet site in which, everyone knows in fact in, those moments had only, 300 inhabitants and the area in which they were going to stay was quite tourist, quite tourist, but at the same time, very quiet huge beaches of, rent a campsite supposedly not, I had a bad reputation and although it seems like a nonsense this detail is very important. Claudia and Lola's mother were friends, 25 years ago and trust between. They was total for Lola this woman, no, she was a simple friend of her mother but, rather his aunt trusted

her a lot. I had a lot of communication and when this woman invited her to travel her parents not, they refused seemed to very nice and no more they accepted on Saturday 27. December 2014 Lola went up to a bus and reached its destination to the 3.30 in the afternoon at that right time. When his godmother got out of the vehicle, the camera and took the following photograph, she looks very happy, cheerful with her. Lola's suitcase at this time was very, happy and knew that the following days, it would have a great time at the station law. They waited not only their godmother, but also the family of this husband, Ernan Yerkevik the 14-year old son of, this and the daughter that the marriage had, in common as I have already told you the plans, for the following days

they were perfect, go to parties together walk through the beach watch movies and at first all, it was great on the same day 27 Lola went to the beach with the whole family had dinner together, and then the girl went with Ernan and, the son of this to the center of Beacons to witness a touch of drums there, says that Lola made new friends how, I have said before was a very sociable and wherever she went to friends. New spoke with everyone was very, very outgoing open and it is said that Arnon accompanied her all the time but, at a certain moment of the night his son of, 14 years was absent since he apparently, are boring, they returned to the house that they have rented they relax are to, sleep and the next morning Sunday, 28 everything

starts again at 10, tomorrow Lola wakes up is fixed, prepares and at one lunch a yogurt and fruits an hour later supposedly, he approaches his godmother and asks for permission. And now a look at the forecast. We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of sunshine to come, and a long-term outlook that's bright for Ireland. At Airgrid, our forecast is for a sustainable energy future. We're upgrading the electricity grid so every home, business and community can benefit.

We're powering up Ireland. Learn more at airgrid.e. On the many days of Christmas, the Guinness Storehouse brings to thee. A visit filled with festivity. Experience a story of Ireland's most iconic beer in a stunning Christmas setting at the Guinness Storehouse. Enjoy seven floors of interactive exhibitions

and finish your visit with brett taken views of Dublin City from the home of Guinness. Live entertainment, great memories and the gravity bar. My goodness, it's Christmas at the Guinness Storehouse. Book now at ginnestorehouse.com. Get the facts. Be drinkaware. Visit drinkaware.com.

Dublin, and Puss was in Boots where he found better than half-priced star gifts on festive favourites, including Ted Baker Men complete gift set, with 65 euro, now only 32 euro. Don't miss out, shop in store or online, gift happily ever after. Boots. Selected stores while stocks last offer ends 24th of December. To go to take a walk through the beach, as I said before bar, of beacons on very small site everyone, knew it was a site apparently, sure and after. after talking a while Claudia, he accepted him that there was no problem that could come out while she, I slept to the nap and at 4.30, would gather to do something together, that Lola accessed the girl in that moment he was very happy and, prepared to prepare everything grabbed

his, backpack a lands by Pink, introduced into this the following objects, a towel, a spare bottle of water, a book by Julio Cortezer and his purse, which carried 2,000 Uruguayan pesos without. However, and this is very interesting I do not know, he wore his mobile phone on that beach. There is hardly any coverage but Lola was a teenage wearing the phone was a essential for her and leave it in. House had no sense yet like that. Continuing with the story comes out of the door to the point and from. There the hours spend and no one else returns to. No Claudia Fernandez hours. Then he declared that perhaps he went to Punta del Este that would have been left with, someone who would have entertained and, together with her husband she toured from Punta to Punta the

whole beach but, unfortunately they did not see her for any part for this at 10 at night though, Tina called the parents of, Lola and told them what had happened. The girl did not appear that she did not call that. Does not give signs of life and surely, it was a raw Claudia told the. Lola pairs that V denounced before the, police that Lola's disappearance already. I was denounced but this point was not. Truth 45 minutes after hanging the, called when Claudia and her husband, they went to police station and denounced but this action was not done before.

They had searched had asked, a lot of people but the complaint is not yet, was, set when Lola's parents, they find out what is happening think, which is a simple mischief that has, staying with someone who has, entertaining that he has not set in the, now so they agree that they are going to, divide the father will stay into, Argentina and the mother will go to Uruguay for, see what is happening thinks that, arriving in Uruguay your daughter will have appeared, and as a punishment he will take her back, home but the girl is from her destiny, the godmother is nowhere and, her husband have distributed posters for, all corners and supposedly nobody knows anything about the subject nobody has seen it no one has heard anything

in chaos more absolute the police were unleashed to track the beach from end to end from the beginning they had dogs tracking different vehicles and by supposed a helicopter in addition they reported that searches were they were focusing on a wooded area of seven kilometers next to the coast without however despite all efforts not they found a trace of the girl still thus and this is very striking there was people who through the internet they told the family that the girl was Well, that I was healthy and saved that I don't know. You worry, but at the same time not. They asked for a rescue if you have information.

Of someone or you ask for rescue or say, where is it but these people do not? They did and finally on December 30th. A man and his two teenage children, they decided to get to work were, normal people on foot, but of the, nothing decided to look for the girl and in. This point there are multiple versions. First is that teenagers, they decided to look for her because the night of the, 27 they met her in the touch of drums. They became friends and Larenwell and how.

They were worried they decided to look for her. The second option is that all three, father and children decided to look for her, because it appeared everywhere and, following a trace of fingerprints gave, with the crime scene in third, places the version that says that the beach area saw someone, suspicious and following his steps.

They found the body the theme here is, that this group found the body of, Lola in a very removed area and area, boscosa between ball and water bar, sweets closer to sweet waters then, beacons and was also a corner of difficult access lola's body was similar in the sand and his face i was hidden in this autopsy he revealed that lola lost her life among the one and four in the afternoon of twenty eight december his body did not present signs of why was fully dressed without embargo had wounds that demonstrated that had been attacked in the back i had several cuts on the neck with a not very sharp object perhaps a knife of kitchen and after the attack fell from knees and his head sank into the sand causing a death by suffocation and and stay with this point, because later it will be very important. Another striking point is that in your body, there was no attacker's DNA, and although

though, the police were looking for everywhere, unable to find his backpack that, pushed them to create the following. Hypothesis the first is that his death. It was because of a robbery which, I would explain why the backpack was not. Anywhere the second is that it was a, attempted rape and after. Girl died the attacker stole her, backpack and left without more, and the third. Option is that it was a kind of, revenge but Lola was not there. just 24 hours in beacons and that he would hate to that point was quite improbable as the

body's finding it was strange and found in an area difficult to access that supposedly already the people who found were considered interest so they took their DNA and after ask questions were discarded and that is when the adult found the body spoke to the cameras i don't want to talk much about the subject how it started because good is not the moment still at the time that i found i knew that the night was coming i knew i was going to dance was in the eye of a hurricane and that i was going to shake for the whole side. I knew at the time I went to look for her. We do not think so later I knew, but not. I didn't care to dance. He did a badly bad job of, part of prefecture that walked, trampling everything with Huitha, quatracicles that did not go down to the floor that

I walked there was a gang of sailors, that ranch were ranch here between the Pishas and the Falklands looking for, showing the photo to see if we had, seen doing a form, recognition of those who we had been interviewed by, for the... And now a look at the forecast. We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of sunshine to come, and a long-term outlook that's bright for Ireland. At Airgrid, our forecast is for a sustainable energy future. We're upgrading the electricity grid

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Prefecture, and then they were. They're on the beach, huh, with the, quadricles and trucks, and thus, they were never going to find. Nothing all they did was delete, the evidence to erase, traces if they had walked as I had, what to have made a rake, exhaustive of the area would have been, a count that in front of the helmet of, errands was written in the sand the name, Lola if they had done the on foot there were, seen there some footprints and those same, footprints would have taken it to the body that was exactly, above that, place caught the attention that the police wanted to constantly highlight, that that area was 100% safe and that. Lola's case was an isolated case that, that didn't like to happen there, it was an area,

very quiet that there was no kind of conflict but unofficially i began to comment that in some corners of that there drug exchanges that the area in the that his body was precisely it could be one of those corners but again the authorities made ears deaf they said it was sure it was completely quiet that did not happen nothing and following the list of suspicious decided to focus on people who saw lola for the last time and these were the family of their godmother both she and her husband were investigated and the latter in their first declaration fell into controversy with, which decided to stop him and keep it incommunicado for two days, when asked the couple of the key at what time they had returned said, a schedule that contradicted which, his 14-year-old police mentioned the police, understood that this was a contradiction. Serious this added to the first expert opinion that, determined that Lola had died between the morning and noon on Sunday, caused him to sign up for the accusation, towards them at the time when Godmother family began to be, investigated decided not to return to, talk again again with

the parents of. Lola did not call them, did not send them. Messages did not give them condolences 25 years, of friendship to pass something like that, and they disappear as well as the father is logical. The Lola began to suspect on January 1st, 2015 Diego Connelles pointed before the Argentine Channel all news that, suspected of the husband and the godmother of, his daughter who had not long, trusted him and what they were, doing so much attention. This part is interesting to have it in, account because according to Lola's pairs, there were certain things that had know, sense things that your daughter used to do, but that the day he disappeared made the first is that the girl, I would like to leave alone for a place that, I barely knew I

didn't know the place had, quite lonely corners that yes, I would like to go alone, it makes any sense. And secondly the girl always, he wore a small bottle with, blessed water was very believer in that. Botolita was his morito of luck, protective amulet and nor normal ocua, that that day did not carry the mobile on top. The next day to do these, declarations the marriage was released, for lack of evidence and there began. to a long list of arrests, stopped a merchant from. Castles as suspicious of being the person who sent messages to the family, saying that Lola was fine and two, several subjects were arrested.

Of beacons of a Rivera coil, anyone who was investigated was arrested, for several hours A, DNA sample and then left in. Freedom there was no evidence against anyone. Everything was circumstantial all were, suspicious sightings nothing more, and, finally after much chaos A, Identicate some witnesses said that. The day Lola disappeared through the area, saw a very strange guy to a guy whose factions were very, some some said that, simply walked

around and others that, spoke with Lola with which quickly, they made the next sketch was a man of more or less 170 high height, Delgado de Cudy Tregeno and with an age, approximately 40 and 50 years. Description also said that your hair, it was short and gray, light brown eyes and tan skin by, the sun this image appeared by all, parts on television on posters end, immediately several people identified the face with a subject nicknamed the rabbit is identified a partner his was the authorities and told a history really unusual a story that made the rabbit see like the culprit of lola's death so authorities arrested him and the rabbit submitted to cario a work worked and on the 28th i was relidu the roof of a house located in front of the beach that day or

behaved money or food and at three afternoon he was absent returned at six with food and money and told everyone bought the food with money found in the middle of the beach each and another. Part of the food paid her mother. This detail called the attention because everyone knew that Lola. Someone stole their backpack saw the rabbit for the beach related to. Lola Lola Lola lacked the backpack and appeared with money but did not have. Tests of any of this so after. Taking your DNA released this. Accusation caught the attention and several chains analyzed the gestures of. This man car the work. Interview different psychologists. Their gestures analyzed their form of, move to interact, and now, for more H.R. Y. News Portal, announced that

the Rabbit had confessed that this man admitted the crime but, actually this was false with which, the subject was forced to, report them on January 14, 2015, finally found Lola's backpack, but the place where it was found was very, striking since it was buried at 17M, of the place where the body is when a great question and it is that if the backpack, I was there before the police did not make a good job and if they placed it later, the area was not well guarded there was no witnesses who placed the backpack. No one saw anything, nobody heard anything and this. Finding generated many doubts, but important here is that in the backpack, they found And now a look at the forecast. We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of sunshine to come,

and a long-term outlook that's bright for Ireland. At air grid, our forecast is for a sustainable energy future. We're upgrading the electricity grid, so every home, business and community can benefit. We're powering up Ireland. Learn more atairgrid.I.E. Inflation pushes up building costs, so it's important to review your home insurance cover to make sure you have the right cover for your needs. Under insurance happens where there's a difference between the value of your cover and the cost of repairing damage or replacing contents. It's a risk you can avoid. Review your home insurance policy regularly. For more, visit Understandinginsurance.I.E. Forward slash Under Insurance. Brought to you by Insurance Ireland.

T was Christmas in Dublin and Puss was in boots where he found better than half-priced star gifts on festive favourites, including Ted Baker Blissful Moment gift set, was 70 euro, now only 34 euro 50. Don't miss out. Shop in store or online. Gift happily ever ask. after boots selected stores while stocks last offer ends 24th of december more pieces of puzzle in first place all your belongings they were inside the backpack was in his bottle of water his book is perio towel but inside the wallet there was money and secondly in this backpack there were blood drops that it did not belong to lola owing the source consulted the blood was in a place or another some pages say that i was on the outside and others that they were in a towel and in the wallet

but as it may that dna turned out to be male and at the same time i do not know, corresponded to the DNA of any of, the people who had been in a gotta end. According to the authorities it was very clear, what happened the aggressor attacked Lola for, behind her struggle with her and. Girl ended up dying but this aggressor, he was injured and with his hands. Bladadas opened the backpack and stole. The money but the problem here is that. No suspect coincided with DNA, no one who had stopped owned. That blood were still looking for testimonies, investigating more people and out of nowhere. New witnesses arose who said, not only the rabbit was on the beach, the day of the crime and that is that apparently, there was also

unheld Morera Marine, aka the Cichila this man was seen, talking to Lola and when the police called a story really, unusual said they met in the beach while the girl went to waters, sweets and he towards beacons at the time, in which they crossed he wanted to sell him, loved stamps and their Lola told him, a little his life began to speak, he said he was from Argentina who was from, holidays I had boyfriend, and nothing the girl began to find bad, He said he was dizzy that. I found well and the Kachila accompanied her. Towards the shadow and there the girl fell. With Mies and I passed out I asked him what he had and told me that he felt. Dizzy there he sat and fell on his knees. I took my pulse and scared I left end. I took the bus for

Montevideo this. Man confirmed that he was with her and they were also talking but there. DNA was not in a victim's body and neither in the backpack however in March 2019 the name of Kachila reappeared in the media since. A new prosecutor took the case this prosecutor, reviewed all the principal documents. In order he reviewed how and when he found, the body arrests, suspicious and reviewing all. Documents saw that the Kachila in 2015 gave very specific details of the scene. Lola only the coroner knew that the girl was on his knees and only those who they witnessed this scene knew where and how was the girl to its story. I had some holes according to the forensic. Lola was dragged and according to Kachila, he walked alone on his

knee's end. This man collapsed very clearly, was on the crime scene for, that the fourth appeals court turn on December 9th, 2019 confirmed unanimously the processing of, Cachilla imputing the cousin Fash of the co-author of a crime of, aggravated homicide among the evidence that he has in his cont against are the psychiatric psychological expertise and semi-ological that revealed that the accused has a personality with, trend to mitamania to irritate, easily and lose control of their impulses and a pattern of contempt and the rights of others considered also that this man did not act alone and that the second person who accompanied him it was the one who killed lola he was present he saw everything and did not prevent it however if he didn't confess to catching his partner

we would be very complicated we expect one only to know the truth and find the culprits el he was there but he is not the only guilty not the kachila is not the only guilty is the culprit because he did not defend her and i could have done music in this case five have come to pass five prosecutors and there were at least 100 detainees is one of the cases with more changes of judges and prosecutors in the judicial history of Uruguay and the most shocking of all is that whenever some new takes the case the research begins from zero are reviewed all evidence all suspects but so the family today does not yields the last shuffy hypothesis of official way that lola was killed for two or more people someone intercepted walking from beacons waters

sweets and the tremo in which it was, found kidnapped and enter, she but what happens that the girl is, thus defended that those involved stole, their portfolio and fled however there are more. Hypothesis that are very interesting. On January 21st, 2015, man, he found Lola's body was arrested for having at home a plantation of, around 70 marijuana plants. We might think that this fact does not have, no link with the case of Lola but, unfortunately some people say that yes and that on the beach where everything happened there are corners separated in. Those who supposedly sell drugs. This new hypothesis believes that perhaps Lola wanted to buy drugs or he wanted to buy or someone invited him. Unfortunately, due the subject did not come out. Well, and the seller

became nervous and the, he killed the last thing we know about the case is that on December 28th, 2021 the family announced that they were following a new track if this. And now a look at the forecast. We're seeing lots of wind, plenty of of sunshine to come and a long-term outlook that's bright for Ireland. At Airgrid, our forecast is for a sustainable energy future. We're upgrading the electricity grid so every home, business and community can benefit. We're powering up Ireland. Learn more atairgrid.I.E. Inflation pushes up building costs, so it's important to review your home insurance cover

to make sure you have the right cover for your needs. Under-insurance happens where there's a difference between the value of your cover and the cost of repairing damage or replacing contents. It's a risk you can avoid. Review your home insurance policy regularly. For more, visit Understandinginsurance.i.e. forward slash under-insurance, brought to you by Insurance Ireland.

T'was Christmas in Dublin, and Puss was in boots where he found better than half-price fragrance star gifts, including best-selling favorites and premium brands. Don't miss out. Shop in-store or online. Gift happily ever after. Boots. Selected stores while stocks last offer ends 24th of December. Small track has not yet been published like this. Which now is your turn? What do you think of? Casein you think that in a short one you can. Close. Jason pulled his hood tighter against the chilly breeze as he wanted. wandered the crowded fairgrounds.

It was early October, and the air was thick with the smell of popcorn, warm cider, and a faint, earthy scent of fallen leaves that clung to the ground in scattered, vibrant heaps. Lights from food stalls and rides cast a soft glow over the pathways, blending reds, oranges, and yellows into a warm, autumnal haze. It gave the whole scene a feeling of timelessness, as if he'd stepped out of his everyday life and into some other, more colorful world. This annual fair was one of the few events he genuinely looked forward. to. It was a chance to escape the routines that filled his life, the calculated paths he followed

day after day. Here, in the swirl of laughter, music, and flashing lights, he could lose himself among strangers, letting their energy replace his own, if only for an evening. And maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different, there was something in the air, a subtle crackling, a feeling he couldn't shake. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something unexpected to happen. J. Wait up, his friend Cole's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Jason turned just as Cole jogged to catch up, an easy grin on his face and a slight flush from weaving through the crowd. Jason couldn't help but smile, Cole's enthusiasm was infectious, even if Jason rarely shared the same exuberance.

You're supposed to enjoy the fair, not wander around like a ghost, Cole teased, giving Jason a playful nudge. Come on, let's grab something to eat. Jason smirked, rolling his eyes. Just taking it all in. Besides, you're the one that's supposed to keep an eye on me, remember. Cole laughed, his voice warm and familiar over the chatter around them, and started leading them toward a food stand selling corn dogs. Jason followed, his attention drifting as they moved through the crowd. The laughter, the shrieks from the nearby rides, the flashing lights,

all of it felt like a strange, exhilarating dream. Normally, he'd stay in the background, finding comfort in observing rather than plunging into the center of any scene. But tonight, something felt different. It wasn't just the energy of the fair or the excitement in the air. It was something deeper, a sense of possibility buzzing just beneath the surface, like the hum of electricity before a storm. As they stood in line, Jason's gaze wandered from one group to another, capturing fleeting

glimpses of people's faces illuminated by the warm, flickering lights of the fair. Friends huddled close, their laughter rising above the hum of the crowd, children dashed between their parents, hands sticky from cotton candy, while couples strolled hand in hand, their smiles private, their words quiet in the midst of the bustling night. Jason almost envied them, their ease, their openness, wondering what it felt like to move so freely, to be so alive in the moment. And then, he saw her. She was leaning casually against a game booth a few yards away, laughing with a group of friends,

her presence cutting through the noise and color of the fair like a flash of flame. Her hair, a striking shade of red that deepened into warm Auburn under the lights, spilled down her shoulders in loose waves, catching the glow of the lanterns above. She wore a dark leather jacket that fit her like it was made for her, and a scarf in deep plaid hues, casually draped around her neck. Her skin had a warmth to it, freckled in a way that seemed both timeless and striking, her cheeks flushed from the cold or maybe the excitement of the evening. But it was her eyes that truly held him captive, even from this distance, bright and green,

with an energy that was equal parts mischief and intensity. She seemed to see everything around her with a focus that made the world feel smaller, more intimate, as if each moment was meant to be lived fully, without restraint. Jason's pulse quickened, and he couldn't tear his gaze away. It was more than her beauty, it was her presence, something magnetic and raw, a force that seemed to pull him closer, even though they were still feet apart. She was vibrant in a way he didn't often see, alive in a way that made everyone else surround her fade into the background. He didn't know her, had never seen her before, yet somehow,

she felt familiar, like a dream he was on the verge of remembering. For a moment, he forgot the noise, the laughter, even Cole standing beside him. In the middle of the crowded fair, with lights swirling in the air thick with the scent of autumn, Jason found himself rooted in place, captivated, as though he'd stumbled upon something he was never meant to find. Hey, birth to Jason! Cole's voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to the present. Jason blinked, finding a corn dog shoved inches from his face. Oh, uh, thanks, he muttered, taking the corn dog without looking, his eyes still locked on the girl by the ring-toss booth. She laughed at something her friend said, and the sound carried over the noise, light and clear.

Jason felt his heart skip. Cole followed his gaze, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. On the many nights of Christmas, the Guinness Doorhouse brings to thee, Christmas nights at gravity. This Christmas, enjoy a truly unique night out at the Gravity Bar. Saver festive bites from big fan bow, expertly crafted seasonal cocktails and dance the night away with DJs from Love Tempo. Brett take infuse, amazing atmosphere, incredible food and drink.

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Selected stores while stocks last Offer ends 24th of December Ah, I see what's going on Redhead by the Ring Toss She's cute. Want an introduction? Jason shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush. No, no, it's, never mind, right.

Just a random stranger you're staring at like she's the only girl in the world. Cole grinned, nudging him with his elbow. Dude, your ears are actually red. Just go talk to her. What's the worst that could happen? Jason swallowed, glancing back at her and then looking away just as quickly, trying to play it off. She's probably here with friends. Besides, she probably thinks I'm some weirdo, Cole laughed, clapping him on the back.

That ship sailed about five minutes ago. You've been staring like she's got the secrets of the universe written on her forehead. Just give her a casual wave or something, girls dig confidence. Jason Huffed, trying to ignore the anxious knot in his stomach. Since when did you become an expert on girls? Hey, you'd be surprised, Cole said, his tone mock serious. I've picked up a thing or two. Rule number one, don't overthink it.

Rule number two, don't think at all. Just act. Jason rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to take the advice. Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose life just flashed before their eyes. Wow, she's got you that bad, huh? Cole laughed, clearly enjoying this. All right, listen.

You go up to her, give her your best smile, no, not that serious one you always do, like an actual smile. Just say something simple. Like, I don't know, hey, I'm Jason. I couldn't help but notice you from across the fair. Girls love that stuff, trust me, Jason rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. Or she thinks I'm a creep who noticed her from across the fair. Yeah, that'll go over well, Cole chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder. Suit yourself, man. But I think you've been officially spotted, Jason's heart skipped a beat. The girl was looking right. at him, her head tilted in mild curiosity, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Before he could think better of it, he gave her a small, hesitant wave.

She laughed, openly, brightly, and waved back. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she broke away from her friends, her movements easy and confident. Jason's heart pounded as she strolled over, her eyes meeting his with an openness that somehow made him feel both exposed and at ease. She stopped in front of him, hands casually tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket, a playful smile on her lips. Hey, she said, her voice warm and relaxed, carrying an energy that matched the fire in her hair.

I'm Lily. Don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name? Jason, he managed, his voice coming out a little rougher than he'd intended. He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to look away. And, yeah, I don't really, get out much, I guess. She raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in. amusement.

There was something about the way she looked at him, direct, unfiltered, as if she wasn't just making polite conversation but genuinely curious. Well, Jason who doesn't get out much, nice to meet you. She extended her hand in a mock formal greeting, her grin widening. I'm a bit of a fair junkie, so if you need the lay of the land, I'm your girl. Jason chuckled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a bit. There was a spark in her eyes, something daring and alive that drew him in, like she was inviting him to step out of his comfort zone, if only for a moment. That might actually be helpful,

he replied, allowing himself a small smile. I usually just wander around aimlessly. Good thing I found you, then, she said, her grin bright and full of mischief. Come on, stick with me. I'll show you how to experience the fare the right way. Want to walk around, Jason nodded, feeling an unexpected thrill of excitement as she turned, leading the way. He stole a quick glance back at Cole, who was giving him a ridiculous double thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd. Jason took a steadying breath and fell into step beside her, the sounds of the fair swelling around them as they moved together through the buzzing crowd. So, Jason, she began as they wandered past rows of brightly lit booths, her voice teasing,

if you don't get out much, what do you do? Besides wandering aimlessly, of course, Jason laughed, scratching the back of his neck. I guess I'm more of the quiet type. I read a lot, study, that kind of thing. thing. I like history, and the stars, he added, almost embarrassed by how dorky it sounded when he said it out loud. History and stargazing.

I like that, she said, her voice sincere. Maybe you're quiet, but that's interesting stuff. It's like you're already living a little in the past and a little in the future. Jason blinked, surprised by the thought. He'd never really looked at it that way before, but somehow, her word struck something deep within him. Yeah, maybe you're right. She flashed him a knowing smile, and for a moment, he felt like she could see parts of him he'd never even noticed himself.

So, what about you? he asked, eager to turn the spotlight off himself. What's a fair junkie like you do for fun? Lily's eyes sparkled. Oh, me. I'm all over the place. I paint a lot, whenever I need to get thoughts out of my head. Sometimes I sneak out to Stargays too, when the sky's clear and the city lights are low enough that you can see everything. On the many nights of Christmas, the Guinness Storehouse brings to thee Christmas nights at gravity. This Christmas, enjoy a truly unique night out at the Gravity Bar. Savour festive bites from Big Fan Bell, expertly crafted seasonal cocktails and dance the night away with DJs from love tempo. Brett take infuse, amazing atmosphere, incredible food and drink.

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my child Pongue My Child Punk A.E. Lecourle a oil, or I'm an octa servicious launcher. There's something about it, you know? Looking up at all those stars, makes you feel like anything's possible. Jason nodded, his eyes flicking up toward the night sky above them,

where only the brightest stars managed to shine through the fair's bright lights. Yeah, it kind of puts everything in perspective, doesn't it? Exactly, she said, her voice softening. Makes you realize how small we all are, but in the best way. Like, there's this whole universe out there, and we're just. Just, part of it, they fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the fair fading into the background as they shared the moment. Jason could feel the connection between them building, an unspoken understanding passing

through the space between them. So, what do you say? she asked, breaking the silence as she grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the nearest game booth. First stop on the tour, the ring toss. But I'll warn you, I'm a bit of a master at this. He laughed, letting her pull him along, the warmth of her hand somehow grounding and electrifying at once. Oh yeah. I guess I'd better watch out, then. They spent the next hour darting from booth to booth, challenging each other to ridiculous games, from the ring toss to the

high striker, each contest more competitive than the last. With every laugh, every playful nudge, every stolen glance, Jason felt himself slipping further from his comfort zone, his usually reserved demeanor cracking open under her infectious energy. He was swept up in her presence, feeling lighter than he had in years. As they reached the edge of the fairgrounds, Away from the noise and chaos, she slowed, looking up at him with a warm smile. Her eyes were still bright, but softer now, like she was seeing something in him she hadn't noticed before. I'm glad I ran into you, Jason, she said, her voice carrying a quiet sincerity that surprised

him. It's funny, but, it kind of feels like we've known each other longer than just tonight. Jason felt his pulse quicken again, the words resonating deeply. I was thinking the same thing. It's, strange, isn't it? she held his gaze, her expression thoughtful. Yeah, strange. But, a good kind of strange, they stood there in the dim light,

the fairs glow casting long shadows around them. Jason had the feeling that he was on the edge of something he couldn't quite name, like a door opening to a world he'd never thought to look for. Maybe this is just what happens at the fair, he said, trying to play it off, though his voice came out a little softer than he'd intended. Maybe, she replied, though there was something unreadable in her eyes, as if she, too, felt the weight of the moment. She let out a breath, a soft laugh, and looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Or maybe some things are just, meant to happen. They stood in silence, the sounds of the fair falling away, replaced by the quiet intensity of the moment between them. The air was thick with an unspoken understanding, a sense of familiarity neither could explain, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had always been meant to fit together. Jason felt it deep in his chest, a pull, undeniable, and all-encompassing, toward this girl who seemed at once a stranger in someone he'd known forever. In that moment, under the dim glow of the fair lights, he felt himself falling,

slipping into a connection that defied every rational thought. He'd spent so much of his life carefully grounded, tethered by logic and predictability. But here, with Lily standing in front of him, that solid ground seemed to dissolve, replaced by something wild, uncharted, and profoundly real. It was as if he'd been waiting for her his whole life, without even knowing it, and now, Faced with her gaze, he felt like he was stepping into a part of himself he'd never truly understood. But then, as he looked into her eyes, something shifted. A subtle chill washed over him, threading its way down his spine.

It was as though a shadow had passed between them, cold and fleeting, a ripple through an otherwise clear pond. For just a second, her face seemed to change, not in any physical way, but in its expression. Her eyes, normally so open and warm, took on a haunted, distant look, as if she were staring through him rather than at him. Jason's heart stuttered, the connection between them twisting into something strange, unsettling. He blinked, and the shadow was gone. Lily was simply Lily again, her face alight with laughter, her smile soft and reassuring.

She seemed entirely unaware of the flicker that had passed, that momentary glimpse of, something else. You okay? She asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice gentle, a hint of concern in her gaze. Yeah, he replied, the word slipping out before he'd fully processed what he'd seen. He forced a smile, willing the strange feeling to pass. Just, glad we met. She smiled back, her eyes warm, a spark of something genuine in her expression that melted

away his lingering unease. With a gentle, almost natural gesture, she slipped her arm through his, a casual intimacy that somehow felt completely right. Me too, Jason. Me too, she said softly, her words but quiet affirmation that sent a warmth spreading through his chest, dispelling the last traces of the strange chill. Neither of them could know that forces beyond their understanding were already shifting, unseen but powerful, pulling them together even as the world they knew began, quietly, to

unravel. They stood at the edge of something vast, something that would carry them beyond the boundaries of everything they believed to be real. And though neither could name it, both felt the weight of the moment pressing down on them, a sense that this was more than mere chance, more than a fleeting coincidence. Then, out of nowhere, a low thunder clap rolled through the air. It echoed across the fairgrounds, deep and resonant, as though it were the voice of the earth itself.

Jason felt it in his bones, the sound rattling something deep inside him, and he glanced up instinctively, scanning the sky. But it was clear, undisturbed by any sign of rain or storm, stars twinkling innocently above. Lily's brow furrowed, and her fingers tightened slightly around his arm. She looked at him, the confusion in her eyes mirroring his own. Did you hear that? Yeah, Jason murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the hairs on his arm standing on end. He forced a smile, trying to shake off the eerie feeling.

Probably just, fireworks, or something. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. There was something off about that sound, something that felt strangely familiar, as though he'd heard it before in a forgotten dream. In that quiet space between heartbeats, Jason found himself daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, the universe had brought them together for a reason. Yet beneath that hopeful thought, a faint unease lingered, a whisper he couldn't quite silence, the feeling that this was only the beginning, and that the thunderclap had been a warning of

things to come. Everyone on my mom's side of the family has heightened sensitivity, almost like a sixth sense. They're all highly perceptive, though many of them tend to brush off what they experience as something explainable. You don't have to stop seeking rational explanations just because you're sensitive, right? This reminds me of a story my aunt told me recently. About two weeks ago, my aunt had an appointment to visit a medical clinic. Not for her own health, though.

Like my mom, she works as a medical sales rep. She hopped into her car, entered the address into her GPS, and set off. Her trip was off to a great start because she found a parking spot directly across from the clinic, a small miracle. She tucked her GPS into the glove compartment, grabbed her papers and bag, stepped out of the car, and realized something odd, she was surrounded by identical row houses. It's not uncommon for medical clinics to blend in with residential areas, but the street numbers were strange. The numbers repeated themselves. There were two number sevens, two nines, and two elevens.

Her destination was supposed to be number eleven, but now she wasn't sure which one it was. She walked up to the house on the corner and knocked. Within seconds, an elderly woman's voice responded from inside, asking who she was. My aunt explained that she was there to meet Dr. Serrano and asked if she was at the right door. The woman kindly informed her that the clinic was next door. Grateful, my aunt thanked her and went over to the next house. When the door opened, it was Dr. Serrano himself. She introduced herself, and they chatted for a few minutes.

At one point, he asked if she'd had any trouble finding the place. My aunt mentioned the repeating numbers and how she'd accidentally knocked on the wrong door first, at the house with the elderly lady next door. Dr. Serrano's reaction was puzzling. He asked her, what woman next door? My aunt described the elderly lady she'd spoken to. The doctor paused, then told her something strange, that house had been abandoned for over three years. My aunt couldn't believe it.

She insisted she'd spoken to the woman, and he explained that she wasn't the first one to mention this mysterious old lady. Apparently, several people who'd come looking for his clinic claimed to have been directed by a woman in that same house, but no one had lived there since an elderly woman passed away over three years ago. Switching gears, I should tell you about my friend Midday's situation at her house, where she's been dealing with something unsettling she's named Bobby. It's like this presence in her house, an invisible roommate who, let's just say, doesn't exactly bring good vibes. Bobby makes himself known by opening and closing doors, creating strange noises, and appearing

as shadows, sometimes a person's shadow, sometimes in animals. She and I had made a plan that I'd visit one day to see if Bobby would recognize me as the same person he'd seen peering out from the upper floor window. About a month ago, I finally made it to her house, not just standing outside the front door this time, but actually crossing the threshold. The moment I walked in, I could feel a presence. Bobby was there, watching us. I could feel it as we walked from the entryway to the living room. It was like he was hovering by the table while we settled onto the couch. My day plugged in her hard drive to play a movie, and as the film began, I couldn't shake the feeling. I kept glancing.

over my shoulder, sure I'd catch a tall figure just standing there, staring at me. Maité and her friend Daniel could see my unease and kept asking if I felt anything, whether it was positive or negative. The truth was, I couldn't put it into words. There wasn't any sense of hostility, just overwhelming curiosity. As we got up to leave, I could feel the entity move aside, as if allowing us to pass. It was watching, but seemed unsure of what to do next. A week later, Maite invited me over again, just the two of us this time, for a casual

YouTube binge. I walked in and felt Bobby immediately, lingering by the door. This time, though, he followed me to the sofa. As Maitei went upstairs to grab her laptop, I felt a sudden weight on the left side of the couch, as if someone heavy had just sat down next to me. My heart raced. I couldn't see anyone, but I could smell something, a strong, musky scent, like incense. The fear was overwhelming, and I jumped up, nearly toppling the coffee table in the process.

Mitey rushed back downstairs to find me huddled on the opposite end of the couch, and after I explained, she just laughed. To her, Bobby was, normal, a familiar presence she'd learned to accept. I tried to calm down, but half an hour later, I couldn't stay seated any longer. His presence was just too intense. I felt his eyes on me and even his breath on my face. By the time I decided to leave, Maite got up to walk me to the door. Just as we reached the entrance, we heard a loud slam.

The bathroom door had closed with a bang, and the handle had turned on its own right in front of us. Mitey dashed over to check, but there was no one there. Taking advantage of her distraction, I bolted for home. According to Maite, Bobby went wild after I left. She heard loud clapping from the sofa, where I'd sensed him sitting. She texted me about it, clearly spooked, but I told her it was. was probably me who triggered the outburst. That brings us to another part of this story.

Recently, the neighbors below my apartment started renovating their home. The local gossip from the neighborhood grandmas hinted that they were expanding the kitchen and remodeling the kids' room. I already knew those kids suffered from night terrors because my brother and I could hear their screams and the banging against the walls almost every night. One evening, my mom bumped into their mom on the staircase, and they got to chatting about the renovations. She mentioned that they were planning to knock down the wall between the kids' rooms so they

could sleep together, thinking it might help them feel safer. My mom didn't quite understand, pointing out that they'd missed the privacy when they grew older. But the woman explained that it was their last resort, the kids had been unable to sleep peacefully because something would sneak into their rooms every night. They described it as a shadowy figure dragging slippers across the floor and mumbling in an unintelligible voice. The kids spoke of unseen people, running through the hallway at night and scratching sounds beneath their beds, though they had no pets.

They were experiencing the same strange occurrences that my family was, suggesting that these eerie events weren't limited to one house. Jason ran a hand over his face, his frustration bleeding through. But if our bond is so powerful, if it's what brought her here, isn't there a way we could use it to keep her here safely? Couldn't we somehow anchor her so that her world and mine? I don't know, stabilize, Madame Vera's expression turned sad, almost mournful. Jason, love is powerful, but it is not without consequences.

The world you're asking for, a world that could support you both, that could reconcile two separate realities, would be a world torn apart at its core. The balance of existence is delicate, each world tailored to sustain itself. The more you try to hold her here, the more your world will unravel, bending and shifting until neither of you can recognize it. Lily swallowed, her voice shaking. So, if I stay, I destroy everything. But if I leave, her voice faltered as the full weight of their choice settled on her.

If you leave, reality will mend itself, Madame Vera said gently. The rift will heal, and the balance will return. You may go on, each with memories that will eventually fade, the edges blurring with time. But if you stay, both worlds will continue to clash, colliding and merging until neither resembles what they were meant to be. Lily's heart clenched, a sharp ache radiating through her chest as she held Jason's gaze, his eyes mirroring the same turmoil that tore at her. She wanted to deny it, to tell Madame Vera that there had to be another way, but a quiet voice within whispered that

she had already known the truth. She had felt it in every strange memory, in every moment that defied the world around her. Her eyes shimmered with tears she could no longer hold back. She looked at Jason, her voice breaking. Jason, I don't want to lose you, Jason held her gaze, his own heart pounding with an ache he could hardly bear. I don't want to lose you either, Lily. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, what if I don't go? Her hand trembled in his, holding on as though he were the only solid thing in a world slipping away. Madame Vera's face grew solemn, her voice steady but filled with sorrow. Then reality will unravel, slowly at first, but inevitably. You will see it everywhere,

familiar places shifting, objects fading in and out of existence, time itself bending under the strain. In the end, there will be nothing left, only fragments and echoes of what once was. A world broken by love, Jason's mind raced as he considered everything Madame Vera had said. The endless cycles, the versions of themselves meeting, falling in love, and being torn apart, it was unbearable to think they were trapped in some endless loop of heartbreak and destruction. He looked at Madame Vera, his jaw set, determination filling his voice.

Is there a way to break the cycle? To end this once and for all, Madame Vera's gaze grew heavy, her expression turning almost mournful. Yes, she said softly. There is a way. But neither of you will like the answer. Tell us. If there's even a chance, we have to know.

Madam Vera's eyes shifted from Jason to Lily, as if weighing the strength of their resolve. To break the cycle, she began, her voice low and steady, one of you must choose to let go entirely. Not just in this life, but across all lives, all realities. One of you must choose to sever the connection completely, to release the bond that ties your souls together. Shelly's breath caught, her face paling as the weight of Madame Vera's words sank in. Sever, the bond, she whispered, her voice trembling. You mean, one of us has to forget the other? Forever, Madame Vera's gaze softened, but her expression remained solemn, each word spoken

with quiet, unyielding weight. To forget, as you imagine it, would be a mercy. But to truly sever the bond that has brought you together across lives, across worlds, requires something far greater. One of you would have to give up this reality. One of you would need to cease to exist. Jason's heart pounded, the finality of her words settling over him like a suffocating shroud. Wait, so, one of us would have to leave this world completely.

Two, his voice caught, and he could barely bring himself to say it. To die, Madame Vera shook her head, her face filled with a mixture of sorrow and understanding. No. To truly break this cycle, one of you must relinquish everything, your soul, your past, your your present, your future. Not merely to die, but to surrender existence itself, as if you had never been. This means all memories, all traces, across every world. It is a sacrifice unlike any other, and it is final.

Lily's face drained of color, her hand trembling in Jason's as she grasped the full extent of the choice. So, you're saying, that one of us has to give up everything, every moment, every memory, to break this bond? Her voice broke, thick with disbelief and horror. But, all the other Jasons and Lilies we were, they died, didn't they? That didn't stop this from happening. Madame Vera's expression turned grave.

Yes. The others before you, they have all died, each in their turn. They loved deeply, they fought to stay together, and yet death did not free them from the cycle. Because death alone does not break the bond. It leaves a trace, a shadow, an echo. That is why it has never ended, Madame Vera's gaze held them both, her face softened with an ancient sorrow. It is a price as high as the bond you share is strong.

To let go in this way would end the cycle, yes. It would bring peace to both of your worlds. But you must understand, this is a choice you must face together, knowing that it will change everything, permanently. Jason's voice was barely a whisper as he looked at her, trying to grasp the scope of what she was saying. But, if no one has been able to make that choice, how long has this been going with? on. Who were the first? How did it even start? Madame Vera closed her eyes briefly, as though

seeing something from long ago, and when she opened them, her gaze was filled with a sorrow that seemed older than time. It began so long ago that even I cannot remember the world where the first Jason and Lily met. But they were, as you are now, two souls drawn to each other across boundaries they did not understand, their love fierce and binding. They defied the natural order and became tethered in ways that worlds could not contain. And so, they have carried on, lifetime after lifetime, pulled into existence by a love too powerful to fade. She looked at them both, her voice laced with a quiet sadness.

Each lifetime brought a new chance, a new choice to make. Yet none before you have been willing, or able, to give up everything. The connection remains, lingering, and so you return. But to end this cycle now, one of you must make the ultimate sacrifice, to be truly erased from all memory, all time. Jason's grip tightened around Lily's hand, his mind. as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of Madame Vera's words. He looked at her, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

How can you expect us to believe this, he said, his voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration? All these cycles, these other lives, and now one of us is supposed to just, disappear. You're talking about erasing an entire existence, and we're supposed to accept it without question. Madame Vera's gaze didn't waver, she met his eyes with a steady, sorrowful look. I know it's a lot to ask. But I do not expect you to choose blindly, Jason. I would never ask that of either of you. Jason shook his head, his mind swimming in a haze of doubts and half-formed thoughts.

But how do we know any of this is real? These lies you're talking about, how do we know this isn't just some story? A trick, Madame Vera remained silent for a moment, then nodded, as if she had anticipated his reaction. Your heart tells you the truth, but if that's not enough, I can show you. This isn't something I want you to accept on faith alone. She moved to a small shelf tucked into the shadows, retrieving a silver bowl that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.

She placed it carefully on the table in front of them, the metal reflecting flickers of candlelight that danced across its surface. The air in the tent felt suddenly heavier, charged with an almost electric energy. Jason eyed the bowl, his pulse quickening. What is that? he asked, feeling an unexplainable pull toward the object before him. This, Madame Vera murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, is the mirror of worlds. Through it, one may glimpse the truth that lies beyond sight, a truth that words alone cannot convey. It is also how I can show you what you've forgotten.

It will allow you to see the echoes of the lives you've shared, the choices you've made, and the paths that brought you here. It is the only proof I can offer. She looked at them both, her gaze somber. But once you look, there is no unseeing it. Do you still want the truth? Jason exchanged a look with Lily, their silent understanding answering for them. They both nodded, and with a steadying breath, Jason leaned forward, his eyes locked on the

surface of the bowl as Madame Vera placed her hand over it and murmured something softly. The water in the bowl began to ripple, small waves forming concentric circles that shimmered with a faint, silvery light. Look into the water, she said, her voice soft and commanding. See what lies beyond your understanding. Jason hesitated, but Lily reached out, almost mesmerized. gaze locked on the shifting patterns in the water. As they peered into the bowl, the ripples steadied, revealing a vision within. Shapes emerged, hazy at first, like figures caught in

mist, but gradually sharpening until they could make out a world, Lily's world. They saw familiar places, streets and buildings that mirrored their own, yet held a subtle, uncanny difference. The colors were slightly muted, the edges sharper, and there was a sense of order and precision that felt both strange and familiar. But as they watched, Jason noticed some something unsettling, every scene was devoid of him. People passed by, figures laughed and moved, but his presence was missing, as if he had been erased from her world entirely. Where, where am I? Jason asked, his voice barely a murmur, feeling an odd pang of absence as he watched Lily's world unfold without him. Madam Vera's voice was grave. You do not exist

there, Jason. This world, her world, has no place for you. Her reality is complete without you, a world balanced and untouched by your presence. Your love draws her here, where you belong, but her world cannot contain both of you. You are separated, divided by forces that have kept your paths from crossing, until now. Lily peered into the water, her face a mixture of longing and confusion as she watched. The scenes continued to shift, revealing fragments of her world, a life that seemed both hauntingly familiar and heart-breakingly distant. She couldn't shake the feeling of something missing, as though she were looking at a home

she couldn't return to, a version of herself she could barely remember. But, if he can't exist in my world, what happens if I stay here? She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, fear slipping into her words. Madam Vera's fingers brushed the surface of the water, and the vision in the bowl shifted again, darkening as the ripples stilled into a new image. This time they saw two figures embraced, holding each other tightly, as if defying the chaos swirling around them. Jason and Lily recognized themselves, but these versions were older, their expressions were older,

their expressions filled with a mixture of love and despair. The world around them was crumbling. The sky was darkened, fires erupted across the horizon, and buildings collapsed as though reality itself was unraveling. The figures in the vision clung to each other, seemingly oblivious to the destruction, their faces etched with sorrow as they shared one last kiss before the chaos overtook them. Lily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Is that, us, she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Madame Vera nodded solemnly. This was one of the lives you shared, a world torn apart by your love, by your refusal to let go. In that life, you chose each other over the world, and the world broke under the weight of it. No, Lily's voice was barely audible, a tremor in her tone as tears pricked her eyes. This can't happen. I didn't mean to. Madam Vera's gaze softened with sympathy. Reality is fragile, and your love defies its boundaries.

You pull each other's worlds into a state of distance. that cannot last. This is the cost of your bond, the consequence of a love that crosses worlds. Jason clenched his fists, his mind racing with denial, with desperation to find a way to change what they were seeing. There has to be a way to stop this, he insisted, his voice tight with determination. This can't be the only choice. I can't just, lose her.

Madame Vera's eyes held his, a flicker of sorrow passing over her face as she lifted her hands over the bowl again, letting the water shift into one last image. The ripples calmed, and in their place appeared two figures, Jason and Lily, but somehow, not them. They seemed to blend, their reflections shifting and merging like faces seen in half-formed dreams. As the shapes came into focus, the distinction between them blurred, as though they were fragments of a single person, two halves of a whole, reflections that mirrored and overlapped with a strange harmony.

Jason and Lily stared into the bowl, their breaths shallow as they watched the figure within, flickering and shifting. It was as if the water itself were caught in a constant state of indecision, unable to settle on a single form. The face in the bowl was sometimes lilies, sometimes Jason's, and sometimes both at once, their features blending, merging, then separating again, a singular, blurred-shaped cast between worlds. What, what does that mean?

Jason asked, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. His heart raced, a quiet dread settling deep within him as he stared into the shifting reflection, a reflection that seemed to pull him closer, reaching out to grasp a truth just beyond his understanding. Madam Vera's gaze grew distant, unreadable, and she let her hand hover over the bowl, casting an elongated shadow across the shifting image within. Her lips parted as if to speak, but then she hesitated, something dark and knowing in her eyes as she looked at them both.

No, she murmured, almost to herself, as she lifted her hand from the water, letting the vision in the bull ripple and blur once more. You are not ready for that truth, not yet. She looked at them both with an intensity that was both compassionate and stern. Some things, you must choose to understand, and that choice lies ahead of you. Lily's fingers tightened around Jason's, her voice trembling as she whispered, so, we're supposed to just decide our fate without understanding this? Without knowing what, what we even are, Madame Vera's face softened, a faint trace of sorrow

in her expression. It is not what you are that matters, child. It is what you will choose to become. The path you walk now will determine whether this, she gestured toward the rippling water, the shifting figure that neither of them could fully recognize, becomes your reality. You must decide before that choice is made for you, and this truth becomes your prison. Jason's mind whirled, his pulse racing as he stared into the bowl, trying to make sense of the figure, of the strange merging and separating that felt both familiar and terrifyingly foreign.

Every instinct screamed at him to understand, to demand answers, but something in Madame Vera's eyes told him he was only glimpsing a shot. shadow of something much larger, a truth he wasn't ready to face. But how are we supposed to decide, he asked, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and anger? How can we make a choice like this without knowing what it all means? Madame Vera's gazed turned piercing, her eyes steady as she replied. You must follow your heart, as painful as that choice may be.

It is not the mind that will guide you in this, logic cannot hold the weight of your connection. But know this, every moment you linger here together, every memory you share, draws you closer to this fate. Jason looked at Lily, his heart torn between the love he felt and the uncertainty that nodded him, a fear that they were crossing into something irreversible. What if we're not ready? He murmured, a question that felt as vast and unknowable as the universe itself. Madam Vera placed her hands over the bowl, her fingers resting gently on its rim, obscuring the last traces of the shifting image within. Ready or not, the choice is yours to make, she said quietly. But once made, it cannot be undone. The water settled, the

reflections fading as the room plunged back into stillness, the candles flickering light casting shadows that seemed to stretch further into the dark corners of the tent. And as Jason and Lily sat there, the weight of her words pressed down on them, the haunting image of the figure lingering in their minds, a silent reminder of the choice they would soon have to make, before the shadow in the water became their reality. Lily's eyes filled with tears, her face pale and stricken as she shook her head, trying to deny the weight of the fortune tellers' words. I didn't ask for this, she whispered, her voice breaking. I didn't ask to be, whatever I am.

Jason's heart twisted as he looked at her, a fierce protectiveness welling up inside him. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close, shielding her from Madame Vera's penetrating gaze. Enough, he snapped, his voice cold and hard. He turned to the fortune teller, anger flaring in his eyes. You've had your fun, but that's it. We're done here. Madam Vera watched him calmly, her gaze step. as though his words meant nothing to her.

Jason felt his jaw tighten, his pulse racing with a mixture of anger and disbelief. How dare she toy with them like this, with her ominous prophecies and dark warnings, as if she had any control over their lives? This is all just, nonsense, Jason muttered, shaking his head as he pulled Lily toward the tense exit. A bunch of theatrics, illusion magic, cheap tricks to scare people who don't know any better. Lily hesitated, glancing back at the fortune teller, doubt flickering in her eyes. Her usually carefree spirit was shaken, and she felt the weight of Madame Vera's words

settling over her like a shadow she couldn't shake. But Jason, she murmured, her voice wavering. What if, what if it's all true? The inconsistencies, the coffee shop walls, the deja vu, the way things just don't fit. She looked at him, her eyes wide and pleading. What if this is real? Jason let out a sharp, humorless laugh, trying to push back the creeping dread gnawing at the edges of his mind. It's not real, Lily. It's just a fluke, a scam, someone trying to mess with

us. A nut job with a crystal ball trying to make herself sound important. He shook his head, dismissing the unsettling images and words as he tried to ignore the part of him that remembered every strange, inexplicable thing they'd experienced since they met. But Madame Vera's voice interrupted his thoughts, calm yet carrying a weight that silenced his denial. Believe what you will, Jason, she said softly, her tone tinged with an almost sorrowful finality. But remember this, illusions cannot unravel reality, and trickery cannot tear apart the world. You can dismiss me if you wish, but the truth does not bend to your will. Jason kept his grip on Lily's hand, pulling her toward the exit, his mind refusing to entertain

the fortune teller's ominous warnings. Let's go, Lily. This is nothing but some sick joke. None of it is real, but as they reached the tense entrance, Madame Vera's voice cut through the air, a final, chilling warning that seemed to resonate beyond the tent walls. Be careful, both of you. Once you choose your path, it will not be undone. I cannot protect you if you make the wrong choice.

Lily turned back, her gaze lingering on Madame Vera, caught between fear and a quiet sense of understanding. But Jason tugged on her hand, his grip firm as he led her out of the tent and back into the noise and lights of the fairground. The world outside seemed almost too bright, too loud, the night air heavy with the minglingling sense of caramel and smoke, as if the fair itself were an illusion. Lily glanced up at him, her expression conflicted. Jason, don't you think, don't you think we should at least try to understand?

What if she's right? Jason shook his head, forcing a smile he didn't quite feel. She's not right, Lily. She's just a woman who makes a living off scaring people into believing they're part of some cosmic mystery. None of this is real. She didn't know what she was talking about, okay? It was all just to scare us. "'Don't let her get in your head.' "'Lilly looked at him, her eyes filled with doubt, her voice a whisper. "'But what if she was right, Jason? "'What if? What if? What if? I don't belong here?

"'What if?' "'I ruin everything just by being here.' Jason took her hands, his grip firm, determined. "'You're here with me, Lily. "'You're real. You belong, I love you, and nothing she said can change that. But as they walked further from the tent, the echo of Madame Vera's words lingered in the back of Jason's mind, a dark, unsettling reminder he couldn't shake. The fairground lights and laughter seemed distant, muffled, as though he were moving

through a half-formed dream. He wanted to brush it off, to return to the warm simplicity of the fair with Lily, yet Madame Vera's warning clung to him, her voice woven into his thoughts like a shadow. Just beyond the threshold of the tent, Madame Vera watched them leave, her expression solemn and filled with quiet sadness. Her gaze lingered on the place where they'd stood, as if she could still see them, their figures etched in the dim glow of the tense interior. They think they have all the time in the world, she murmured to the empty air, her voice

low and filled with an old sorrow. Her fingers trailed over the table as though searching for a connection to something unseen, something fragile. But time is slipping, faster than they know, she paused, her eyes narrowing as though she were peering into the spaces between moments, listening to something that only she could hear. The mirrors of fate are cracking even further, she whispered, her voice barely audible. And once they shatter, only fragments will remain, Jason and Lily left the fortune-tellers' tent, stepping back into the bright lights and bustling energy of the fairground.

The sights and sounds felt overwhelming after the dim, haunting quiet of Madame Vera's tent, and they walked in silence, both lost in thought, still feeling the weight of her warnings hanging over them. As they passed by a row of food stalls, Jason's friend Cole spotted them from a distance and jogged over, his usual grin replaced by a look of mild concern. Hey! You two look like you've seen a ghost, he joked, eyeing their pale faces. What happened?

Jason ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the lingering unease. It's, we just had the weirdest experience, he said, glancing at Lily, who nodded, her eyes still wide. We went to see this fortune teller, and she, she said some pretty unsettling things. It felt, real. Way too real. Cole raised an eyebrow, amused but intrigued. Fortune teller. Here at the fair. He looked around, his brow furrowing. I've been all over the grounds tonight, and I didn't see any fortune teller. Jason frowned,

glancing over his shoulder in the direction they'd come from. Yeah, the tent was right over there. I'll show you. He turned, pointing toward where Madame Vera's tent should have been, tucked at the edge of the fairground near the game booths. But when he looked back, the tent was gone. In its place was only a brightly colored game booth, packed with people tossing rings and winning stuffed animals. Jason blinked, his heart pounding as he scanned the area, but there was no sign of Madame Vera's tent, no shadows, no flickering red light, nothing. It was as though the fortune teller had vanished without a trace. Lily's hand tightened around his, her face paling as she realized the tent was truly gone. She looked up at him,

her eyes wide, a flicker of fear reflecting her own sense of disbelief. Uh, you sure you're okay, man? Cole asked, chuckling nervously, sensing the tension in their silence. Jason shook his head, a chill creeping over him. It was here, Cole. I swear, it was here, but no matter how hard he looked, the tent, and Madame Vera, were nowhere to be seen. The small fairground glowed softly under the deepening evening sky,

a cozy warmth settling over it despite the bite of the cool autumn. air. Overhead, strings of lights stretched between wooden poles, casting a flickering glow that painted the pathways in soft halos. The lights wavered like fireflies in the distance, creating a patchwork of gold against the dark, almost inky blue of the sky. Stars dotted the heavens, faint and far off, nearly hidden by the brightness of the fair, as though the universe itself had decided to give them privacy tonight. Around them, the low hum of conversation mingled with bursts of laughter and excited shouts from children darting through the crowd, faces sticky with cotton candy in hands clutching bright, plastic prizes.

A steady stream of music drifted over from the carousel, the familiar, lelting melody blending with the occasional clang and rattle of carnival games, the voices of vendors calling out to passers-by with promises of, one more chance to win. The scents that filled the air were thick and sweet, caramel apples, fresh popcorn, and a hint of cinnamon from the churros sizzling in deep friars. Each smell beckoned, inviting them to forget, if only for a moment, the strange realities they had been navigating. Jason and Lily strolled hand in hand, their fingers laced together, grounding them as they moved through the crowd. Their pace was unhurried, almost languid,

as if they had nowhere to be, and every step was just another part of the night's embrace. They leaned into each other as they walked, sharing warmth as they stopped to take bites of the spun sugar melting on their tongues. They could feel the world around them in every sense, the laughter echoing, the distant sound of the Ferris wheel creaking as it turned, the metallic clang of rings hitting glass bottles in the game stalls. The air held a slight chill, enough to flush their cheeks and bring a briskness to their steps, but it only added to the enchantment of the night. The fairground's lights glowed with an inviting warmth, drawing couples and families toward booths lined with stuffed animals and colorful trinkets. It felt

safe, almost timeless, as if they had entered a sanctuary where, for a few precious hours, the world would wait for them. Jason glanced at Lily, noting the way the lights cast shadows across her face, her eyes reflecting the brightness around them like tiny mirrors. She caught his gaze and gave him a soft smile, and for a moment, he felt like they were alone, hidden from the strange forces that had been haunting them. Here, in this fleeting world of laughter and lights, there were no mysteries to unravel, no memories blending and blurring. Just the crisp night air, the warm scent of caramel, and her hand in his.

They walked past booths and stalls, taking in the sights and sounds, trying to lose themselves and the simplicity of the evening. It was a night stolen from another world, a place where the only questions they asked were which ride to go on next or which treat to share. Hey, look! Lily said, her voice bubbling with excitement as she pointed to a small tent tucked away

at the far edge of the fairground. Hidden behind a row of colorful pop-up game booths, the tent seemed almost forgotten, as though it belonged to another era. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, painted with peeling letters that read, Madame Vera's mystical visions, Fortune Teller Extraordinaire. The script was ornate, curling and twisting as if inviting only the most curious to enter.

The tent itself was draped in dark, thick fabric, heavy and foreboding, like the folds of an old, musty curtain. The material seemed to absorb the light around it, creating a stark contrast to the brightness of the fairground. The only illumination came from a dull, red glow that seeped out through the tent's entrance, casting eerie shadows across the trampled grass. The red light pulsed faintly, as if alive, shifting in a way that made the tent seem to breathe, inhaling and exhaling in rhythm with the muted hum of the fare. Jason felt a flicker of unease creep over him as he looked at it, a sense that the tent didn't quite belong here. It seemed too old, too worn and frayed around the edges, as if it had seen countless fares come and go. The shadows spilling out onto the fairground stretched long and twisted, distorting the figures of passers-by into strange, elongated shapes that melted back into the darkness.

as they moved away. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he looked at the entrance, feeling a strange dread settle in his stomach, an instinct telling him that whatever lay inside was best left alone. Lily, however, was practically glowing with excitement, her eyes dancing with mischief as she tugged on his arm. Come on, it'll be fun, she insisted, her smile widening as she took in the ominous details of the tent. For her, it was all part of the fair's charm, a touch of mystery and wonder that made the night feel like an adventure, a story waiting to unfold. The fairground had always filled her with childlike delight, a sanctuary from reality where each ride and game felt like an invitation to let go and believe in the impossible, if only

for a night. Jason hesitated, feeling the weight of dread pressing against his chest. But as he looked at Lily, her face alight with excitement, he felt his resistance soften. He could see the thrill in her eyes, the way she practically vibrated with enthusiasm, and he didn't have the heart to deny her this small adventure. For her, the fair was magic, for him, it was simply a place to be with her, to share in the moment. He took a deep breath, swallowing his unease, a fortune teller. Really, oh, come on, Lily teased, nudging him.

We could use a little distraction, don't you think? Plus, it'll be fun. She tugged him toward the tent, her eyes bright with excitement and a hint of mischief. Jason sighed, rolling his eyes with a smile as he followed. her. Fine, but if she starts telling us about tall, dark strangers, I'm walking out, Lily laughed, pulling him through the tense narrow opening, and they stepped into a world that felt as if it had been plucked from another time. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense, rich and smoky, mingling with a faint hint of sandalwood and herbs. It clung to

their clothes and filled their lungs, heavy and almost stifling, like stepping into the depths of a forgotten temple. The red glow that had seemed so ominous outside now emanated from a single, candle flickering on a low wooden table in the center of the room. The candles flame danced, casting shadows that moved across the interior like ghostly figures. The tent's walls were lined with shells that sagged under the weight of strange, glittering objects, crystals in every color, worn leather-bound books, weathered talismans, and intricately carved figurines that looked as if they'd been collected from ancient places. The furniture was old and worn, yet strangely luxurious, as if it had once belonged in an elegant parlor. The table was scuffed and scratched,

but its surface gleamed with a dark, polished richness. Two plush, velvet chairs sat across from the Fortune Teller's seat, their fabric faded but still retaining hints of deep red and gold, embroidered with intricate patterns. The edges were frayed, and a few loose threads dangled from the armrests, but the chairs carried a sense of forgotten opulence, a touch of faded grandeur that seemed strangely fitting in the eerie light. Behind the table sat the Fortune Teller, Madame Vera.

She was an older woman, her skin lined with the faint marks of time, though her eyes gleamed with an unsettling sharpness. Her hair, streaked with gray, was tied back in a loose, messy braid that fell over one shoulder, adorned with small charms and beads woven into the strands. She wore layers of richly colored fabrics, shawls and scarves in deep purples, midnight blues, and flashes of lashes of silver that shimmered as she moved. Her fingers were adorned with rings of all shapes and sizes, each one glinting in the candlelight, their stones dark and mysterious.

Her gaze was intense, piercing as she studied them, her eyes like embers that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom, and secrets. Her expression was serene yet heavy, as though she were not merely looking at them but through them, reading things they could not see. Jason felt a chill run down his spine, a prickle of awareness, as though this woman understood more about him than he understood himself. Her smile was faint, almost hidden, yet undeniably knowing, as if she were aware of things they were yet to learn.

She sat with her hands folded neatly on the table, her fingers tapping gently, a steady rhythm that matched the flickering of the candle's flame. Her mannerisms were calm, measured, every movement precise and deliberate, giving her an air of quiet authority. Welcome, she said, her voice rich and smooth, each word carrying a weight that made Jason's skin prickle with unease. Please, sit, as they settled into the worn velvet chairs, Jason felt an unsettling sense of anticipation coil within him, his pulse quickening in the dim red glow.

The weight of the room seemed to press down on them, as if every corner held secrets waiting to be uncovered. Madame Vera's gaze flicked between them, lingering with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as though she could see straight through his carefully constructed thoughts. She leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the table, her eyes dark and steady. Jason. "'Lilly, it's good to see you again,' she began, her voice soft but waited, each word sinking into the quiet of the room like stones.

spine stiffened, his hand instinctively tightening around lilies. They hadn't told her their names. He opened his mouth to say something, to demand how she could know, but Lily beat into it, her voice a mix of unease and curiosity. How, how do you know our names, she asked, her eyes wide as they locked onto Madame Vera's. The fortune teller's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile, and she held their gaze with a look of quiet certainty.

Because this is not the first time you've come to see me, she murmured, her voice threaded with a strange, almost sorrowful nostalgia. And it will not be the last. Jason exchanged a look with Lily, his heart pounding, his mind racing. What, what are you talking about? he asked, his voice edged with disbelief. We've never been here before. We've never met you. Madame Vera's gaze softened, as if she pitted their confusion.

You may not remember, but your souls remember, she replied, her fingers tapping lightly on the table, a quiet, rhythmic pulse that matched the strange tension in the air. You find me each time, drawn by the same force that pulls you together. Over and over, you come to me seeking answers, but rarely do you heed my warnings. A chill crept down Lily's spine as she looked into Madame Vera's eyes, seeing something ancient and unyielding there. So, we've met you in other lives. Other worlds, she whispered, her voice barely audible. Madame Vera nodded slowly, a shadow crossing her face.

Yes. In one form or another, you are always drawn back to this moment, to the edge of a choice that could change everything. But each time, you come to me, hoping for a different truth, a different ending. Jason shook his head, refusing to believe it. This is ridiculous. You're just trying to scare us. We haven't met you before, this is the first time we've ever set foot in this tent.

Madam Vera's expression remained impassive, her eyes fixed on them with a sadness he couldn't understand. That's what you always tell yourselves, she murmured. But the truth remains, whether you accept it or not. Your fate circles back to this moment, a pattern that repeats with each life, each world you touch. And unless you choose differently, you will find yourselves here again. Jason glanced at Lily, her face etched with doubt and fear, her hand trembling within his. He wanted to pull her away, to dismiss Madame Vera's words as nothing more than theatrics,

a performance crafted to leave them unsettled. But a part of him, a small, unshakable part he couldn't ignore, felt the weight of her words settle over him like a deep, old ache. He looked back at Madame Vera, his voice strained, a question bubbling up from a place he didn't want to acknowledge. If this is true, if we've been here before, why? Why do we keep coming back to you? Madame Vera's gaze softened, a flicker of sadness mingling with the knowing look in her eyes.

She held her hands over the table, as though tracing a thread only she could see. Two souls drawn together from different places, she murmured, her eyes narrowing, her focus shifting between them, as if she were studying an invisible cord stretched talk between their hearts. A connection, powerful, but dangerous, bound by the threads of fate, trapped in a cycle of love and destruction. Jason felt Lily's hand tighten in his, her breath catching at Madame Vera's words. He opened his mouth to argue, to deny this cycle, the fortune teller claimed they were caught in, but Madame Vera continued, her voice filled with a solemn certainty.

Your bond is stronger than worlds, more potent than the barriers meant to keep you apart. And so, you find each other, drawn across lifetimes and realities. But each time, your connection pulls against the very fabric of reality, and each time, the same fate awaits. Love that endures beyond reason and a destruction that cannot be avoided, unless you choose differently. What do you mean? Lily asked, her voice barely a whisper. Madame Vera's gaze softened with something akin to pity as she looked between them, but her tone held a grim finality. You were never meant to be together.

Not in this world, or any world. The words hung heavy in the air, reverberated. through the stillness, a quiet echo that seemed to press down on them from all sides. Jason felt the weight of her word settle into his chest like a stone, an unexplainable fear tightening his grip on Lily's hand. That's, that's ridiculous, he said, his voice strained, almost offensive. We're just two people who met at the right time. There's no cycle of fate or, Madame Vera's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile,

but her gaze held no amusement. You may try to dismiss it, Jason, but reality does not bend to your understanding. understanding. The bond you share is older than this world, older than either of you, a thread that thread that thread is frayed, torn by forces beyond your control. She leaned forward, her eyes piercing. You are not meant to exist together in this world, and your very presence here is a wound, a crack in the foundation of reality. Lily's face drained of color, her hand trembling as she tried to steady her voice. But, we're real, she said, her tone wavering as she looked to Jason, a desperate plea in her eyes.

We're here, together, right now. How can you say we don't belong? Madam Vera's face grew solemn, her tone shifting from mysterious to something darker, almost ominous. There are forces here you do not understand, she said softly, her gaze shifting to Lily. You, were never meant to exist in this world, my dear. Your presence here, it's a mistake. Lily's face turned ashen, her fingers clutching Jason's hand tightly.

A mistake, she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though the very ground beneath her had shifted. Madame Vera nodded slowly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Yes. Your presence here, it creates a rift, a tear in the fabric of reality. The world itself feels it, like a wound festering beneath the surface. Piece by piece, it will begin to unravel, until there is nothing left. She leaned forward, her intense gaze fixed on Lily, her words carrying an ominous weight that

sent a chilled down Jason's spine. If you do not leave, Madame Vera continued, her voice dropping to a grave whisper, you will take this world with you, as if summoned by her words, a deafening clap of thunder cracked overhead, shattering the silence and making both of them jump. Jason's heart raced, his grip on Lily's hand tightening as the walls of the tent seemed to shudder around them, trembling as though the very air were charged with energy. They felt the rumble deep in their bones, a heavy vibration that seemed to echo endlessly, reverberating through the ground beneath their feet.

The storm had been nowhere in sight, yet the thunder's intensity made it feel as though it had been lying in wait, lurking until this very moment to release its fury. Outside, the fairground sounds dulled, voices falling silent as people look to the sky in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden eruption from above. Lily's hand trembled in his, her face still pale as she glanced at Jason, fear widening her eyes. Jason, what if she's right? She whispered, her voice breaking, barely audible above the echo of thunder still rolling across the sky. Jason shook his head, trying to steady himself, to stay grounded, but even he felt the crackling energy in the air, as if reality itself had splintered, hanging by a threat. He wanted

to tell her it was all nonsense, just a scare tactic, but the woman's words and the thunder felt too eerily aligned, two pointed to ignore. The fortune teller's expression remained solemn, her eyes shadowed yet piercing, fixed intently on them. Do you see now, she murmured, her voice cutting through the tense silence left by the thunder. The world is warning you, child. This is not a place you belong. It will push back, it will resist, until there is nothing left to resist. Jason glanced at Lily, her pale face reflecting the same dread that was twisting in his stomach.

The weight of Madame Vera's warning hung between them, dense and suffocating, and just outside, as if echoing their shared fear, another low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, a quiet reminder of the storm gathering in the distance. Lily's voice shook as she finally spoke, gripping Jason's hand as if it were the only thing anchoring her. What do you mean I'm not supposed to exist? She demanded, desperation sharpening her words. I do exist.

I'm here. I'm alive. Her eyes pleaded with Madame Vera, searching for any sign that this was all some dark joke, a test to gauge their reaction. How can I not be real? Madam Vera's face softened, and for a moment, her gaze held a kind of quiet pity that only made the truth she spoke feel more unsettling. Not here, not now, she murmured, her voice low but steady, each word laced with an ancient

weight that made Jason's skin prickle. You are a reflection, a shadow cast from another world, another life. You belong somewhere else, a place where your presence does not disrupt the delicate balance of existence. Jason, frowning, looked from Madame Vera to Lily, confusion and fear mixing in his gaze. But she's here now. She's real, just as real as I am. How can you say she doesn't belong?

Madame Vera's gaze turned to him, her eyes as dark and inscrutable as the depths of the ocean. Jason, you see her, feel her, love her in this world, but her presence here is like a splinter in your skin. She wasn't meant to be here, and her being here weakens the boundaries that hold your world together. Each moment she remains, the very fabric of reality strains, like a delicate web trembling under a weight it was never meant to bear, Lily's eyes glistened with the effort to hold back tears. I don't understand, she whispered, a tremor in her voice. You're saying I'm just, a mistake.

An accident that doesn't belong, Madam Vera shook her head gently, her expression unreadable. Not an accident, she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. But a choice, a pull from somewhere deep within you both. Your souls reached across the divide, through lifetimes and realities, to find each other. And while love is a powerful force, it is not without consequences. The two of you, bound as you are, are creating a fracture, a wound in the very world that sustains you.

Jason's frustration bubbled over, and he squeezed Lily's hand tightly. So what are we supposed to do? He demanded, his voice tight. If we're not supposed to be together, then why did we find each other at all? Why go through all this if it's just going to destroy everything? Madam Vera's gaze lingered on him, a mixture of sympathy and resignation in her eyes. Because some things are meant to be, and yet not meant to last, she replied, her work words heavy with the sorrow of ancient knowledge.

The pull between you was too strong, powerful enough to bend the rules, to bridge worlds. But now you face a choice, to let each other go and allow this world to heal, or to remain together and watch it unravel, piece by piece. Lily's grip tightened, her face stricken. But, can't we find a way to stay? Isn't there a way for us to be together? Madame Vera sighed, her eyes darkening. Some choices carry too great a price.

The longer you stay, the more the boundaries will weaken, pulling pieces from one world into another until neither world is left whole. If you remain together, reality will warp around you, and in the end, there will be nothing left for either of you. A deep silence filled the tent, heavy and stifling, as Lily and Jason exchanged a look filled with both love and fear. Another rumble of thunder rolled through the air, faint but unyielding, as if the universe itself were offering its warning, pressing down upon them, urging them to understand the cost

of their bond. Do you see? Madame Vera said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Your love, as beautiful as it is, was born from worlds that cannot hold it. It is a force too strong for this reality, a fire that will consume everything if you let it burn. The air in the tent felt heavy, charged with an invisible weight that pressed down on them, each word from Madame Vera sinking into lily like stones settling in her chest. She could almost see it, a world beyond this one, hazy and indistinct, a place where she might belong completely. in a way she could never feel here. Fragments flickered through her mind, like pieces of a dream just beyond reach, familiar

landscapes blurred by time, people who felt known but unseen, echoes of herself moving through spaces that didn't fit within this reality. Jason shifted beside her, his own face pale and tense as he looked between Lily and Madame Vera. His voice was steady, though tinged with disbelief and frustration. How do you know all this? He demanded, his words thick with skepticism. Who even are you?

And how can you possibly know about, other worlds, other versions of us? Madame Vera's gaze settled on him, dark and unreadable, and a faint, almost bitter smile touched her lips. "'Who am I?' she repeated, her tone carrying a hint of amusement layered with a weary wisdom. "'I am a conduit, a keeper of secrets, a witness to cycles that stretch beyond the reaches of time and space. I know because I have seen it, time and time again. I have watched souls like yours, drawn together across the divide, pulled back and forth,

breaking and reforging, trapped in cycles of love and loss, hope and ruin. I know because it is my burden to know, to watch these truths unfold while others remain blind, she leaned forward, her voice lowering to a whisper that seemed to draw the air from the room itself. Your world, this world, was never meant to hold her. Lily belongs to a place just out of reach, a world that mirrors this one but exists on a different plane. But the bond you share defies the natural order. It pulled her across the boundary, a force so strong it altered the fabric of reality. And now that bond, that pull, threatens to unravel everything, like a thread tugged from a fragile seam until all that remains are broken fragments.

Lily's voice was barely steady as she spoke, her mind struggling to process the enormity of Madame Vera's words. But if I leave, what happens then? Madame Vera's gaze softened, though her expression remained somber. If you leave, reality will heal itself. The rift will close, and the balance will be restored. But if you stay, she has a her eyes shifting to Jason, who stared back at her, torn between fear and defiance. If you stay, everything you know, everything he knows, this world and everyone in it will begin to fracture. Memories will seep through boundaries, identities will blur, and reality itself will warp under the strain.

It will twist, pulling in pieces of your world and his until both are left in ruin. Jason's heart pounded, his mind pushing back against every word, refusing to accept her warning. So, you're saying that just because we, because we can't. care about each other, because we met, that everything we know will collapse. His voice shook with disbelief, his mind scrambling to find some flaw in her logic, some way to unravel her words as easily as she had unraveled their understanding of their lives. Madame Vera sighed, meeting his gaze with a weariness that seemed older than time itself, a sorrow-borne from witnessing too many others caught in the same relentless cycle.

Love is a powerful force, Jason. It binds, it strengthens, it defies, but it does not always heal. Sometimes, love and reality cannot exist side by side. The bond you share with her is one that reaches beyond this world, a thread that stretches across boundaries that were never meant to be crossed. Lily's hand slackened in his, her expression shifting to one of quiet horror as the gravity of the situation took hold. So, I'm a danger, she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Just by being here, I'm—I'm hurting this world. Madam Vera nodded slowly, her voice soft but unyielding, each word carrying a weight that seemed to deepen the silence around them. Yes. This is not your fault, and it was never your choice. But this world, this fragile reality, it cannot contain you, nor can it withstand the force of the connection between you and Jason. Reality is already beginning to strain, you have felt it, seen it.

Objects appearing and vanishing, memories slipping into your mind like fragments of forgotten dreams. These are only the first signs. As time goes on, the fractures will deepen, and eventually, reality itself will shatter under the weight. Lily's grip on Jason's hand tightened as memories of the odd, inexplicable moments flashed through her mind. Her voice wavered, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to Madame Vera.

The coffee shop walls, they were green, but I could have sworn they were brown. I kept telling Jason they'd been painted, and he kept saying they hadn't changed. Madame Vera's expression softened, her gaze tinged with sympathy. Yes, child. That was a glimpse of the coffee shop in your house. your world, a place where the walls truly are brown. The inconsistencies you see, the small shifts, a color that doesn't belong, an object that appears out of place, a face you think you recognize but shouldn't know, they are more than confusion. They are the first signs, small

rips in the fabric of this world. They signal that reality is beginning to unravel under the strain of your presence here. Jason glanced at Lily, and she nodded, recalling yet another moment. Like the time we both ordered pie, she murmured. Jason's family always got cherry, but I could swear we'd had blueberry, even though he said they'd never ordered it. Madame Vera nodded knowingly. These memories you both carry, these fragments, as you call them, they are reflections of a world you once knew, a world your heart still remembers even if your mind does not. That is why they feel so vivid, so real. Your two realities are colliding, bringing echoes of each world into the other. For now, it is pie flavors and colors

of walls, minor details that create subtle disturbances. But as time passing, those small inconsistencies will grow more pronounced. Jason felt a shiver run down his spine as he thought of what she was saying. So, what happens if we ignore it? Madame Vera's expression darkened. Then you will see more than colors and flavors changing. Imagine pieces of the landscape altering before your eyes, buildings that flicker between forms, faces that seem familiar yet shift into strangers.

You will see entire memories begin to fade and blur, voices that sound like whispers, as your world and her world battle for dominance. battle for dominance. It will start with brief lapses, brief moments of remembering that feel like deja vu. But soon, reality itself will begin to fracture, time may skip, people may forget who they are, entire parts of your world may simply disappear as hers tries to overlay it. Jason's heart pounded as he looked at Lily, a storm of fear and frustration turning inside him. So, you're saying all these little things, the differences we've noticed, they're actually from her world. He shook his head, struggling to make sense of it all.

But why now? Why is it only happening since we met? Madam Vera's eyes softened, her expression grave as she looked between them. Because, Jason, your meeting was the catalyst. Your connection, your love, it is what allowed her to cross over, what lets her memories and echoes slip into this world. Love as powerful as yours does not know boundaries. It reaches beyond reason, beyond realms.

When you two came together, you created an anchor, a bridge that binds her world to yours. And every memory, every inconsistency you encounter, weakens that bridge, making it more fragile with each passing day. Lily's face turned pale, her mind racing back to every detail that had felt just slightly, wrong. The colors that didn't match, the flashes of deja vu, the strange sensation of feeling like she was both here and somewhere else. It was as if parts of her existed in places she could barely reach.

So, all the things I remember that don't fit, she whispered, her voice trembling, they're from, somewhere else. My world, yes, Madam Vera said gently, though her words were unyielding. And the more you try to reconcile these memories with his reality, the more strain you create, like a storm building beneath the surface. You are in a place you do not belong, Lily, and that discord is tearing reality apart, one small fracture at a time. Jason woke in the early hours of the morning, his heart racing, his skin damp with sweat

as the last remnants of a dream slipped through his fingers. He lay frozen, staring up at the dark ceiling, as he tried to. tried to capture the scattered fragments still lingering in his mind. The images were vivid yet disjointed, a landscape that was both familiar and foreign, a place where every detail felt slightly askew, as if viewed through the haze of a memory he couldn't fully recall. He could still feel the damp air pressing against his skin, the whisper of leaves rustling in a wind that seemed to carry voices just out of reach.

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the details, but they darted away like shadows retreating from light. There had been a path, lined with towering trees that seemed to arch overhead, their branches weaving together like the ribs of some vast, ancient creature. He remembered a feeling of being pulled forward, like an invisible thread was leading him, tugging at him, burging him deeper into the heart of the forest. And somewhere, just beyond the trees, he felt something, or someone, waiting for him. A name lingered on his tongue, fading even as he became aware of it, Lily.

He felt sure she had been there, in that strange dreamscape, though he couldn't place her presence. It was as if she had been just out of sight, her voice blending with the wind, her laughter echoing faintly in the distance. In the pit of his stomach, he felt a sense of loss, of separation, though he couldn't understand why. They were bound somehow, tied together by invisible threads he could sense even now, but in the dream, she had felt distant, unreachable. Jason turned on to his side, frustration building as the pieces slipped further from his grasp. It was more than a dream, it had been a message, or maybe a memory of a place he was supposed to find, a part of his life he had yet to live or maybe had already lived before.

He tried to steady his breathing, closing his eyes and letting the silence of the room settle over him, but the uneasy feeling remained, a quiet whisper at the edge of his thoughts, pulling him back toward that strange, elusive vision. He glanced at his phone, debating whether to text Lily. He wanted to tell her about the dream, even if it sounded crazy. But what would he say? That he had dreamed of her in a place he couldn't name, feeling a connection he couldn't explain.

Before he could overthink it, he typed out a quick message. Jason, hey. Are you up? Can you meet me at our usual spot? He hit send, his heart pounding as he waited for her response. It was barely dawn, and the sky outside his window was a deep, inky blue, tinged with the faintest hint of morning light. For a moment he worried she'd think he was crazy, that showing up at this hour with nothing

but a strange dream would make him seem unhinged. But the sense of urgency nodded him, growing stronger with every passing minute. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with a response. Lily, yeah. Couldn't sleep. I'll be there in ten. He exhaled, feeling a strange mixture of relief and tension as he grabbed his jacket and headed out into the chilly morning air.

The streets were deserted, the world wrapped in the quiet stillness that only existed before dawn. As he made his way to the park, the dream replayed in his mind, images flashing before his eyes like fleeting snapshots, the towering trees, the shadowy path, the feeling of being pulled towards something he couldn't see. When he reached their spot beneath the old maple tree, Lily was already there, sitting quietly on the bench, her face softened by the pale light of dawn. She was staring out over the pond, lost in thought, and as he approached, she gave him a faint, tired smile.

Couldn't sleep either, huh, she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of weird. though her eyes held that same distant, searching look he'd seen more often lately. He nodded, feeling a little ridiculous but pushing through. Yeah. I. I had this dream, and it's been bugging me all morning. I couldn't shake it. Her eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of recognition flickering across her face.

Let me guess, a forest. Tall trees, a winding path, Jason's pulse quickened, a chill running down his spine. How did you know? She looked away, her fingers tracing the thin scars of the bench. I had the same dream. It was unsettling. I felt like I was supposed to find something, or someone. I kept hearing your voice, but every time I tried to follow it, you'd disappear.

Jason exhaled, feeling the weight of the dream settle more heavily over them, their shared experience deepening the strange bond between them. It's like we were, there, together. But it didn't feel like a normal dream. It felt real, like a memory. Lily nodded slowly, her brow furrowing. Exactly. It was as if we'd been there before, or maybe, like we're supposed to go there.

They sat in silence, each grappling with the implications of their shared vision. Jason took a step closer, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell. Do you think, do you think it means something? All of this. He gestured between them, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and fear. The dreams, the strange coincidences, even our families. It's like there's something hidden, something connecting us that we can't see. Lily's gaze softened, her eyes searching his with a depth that made his breath catch.

I don't know, she said quietly, her voice carrying a tremor she couldn't quite hide. But it feels like we're meant to find out, doesn't it? Like maybe everything has been leading us here, to this. She reached out, her fingers intertwining with his, grounding him with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air. Her hand was small but steady, a silent reassurance that they would face whatever lay ahead together. Jason felt the tension in his chest ease, her presence a calm amidst the unknown.

Whatever this is, she continued, her voice filled with quiet determination, whatever's pulling us together, I think we're supposed to see it through. Jason gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Then we'll see it through. Together, they sat beneath the maple tree, a silent promise hanging in the air between them, unspoken but understood. As the weeks went on, the strange synchronicities only intensified. It was no longer just the occasional finishing of each other's sentences or mirroring

each other's gestures. It became something deeper, something that seemed to weave through their days like an invisible thread. Jason would begin a sentence, only to have Lily finish it in perfect alignment, her voice echoing his thoughts as if she'd pulled the words directly from his mind. At first, they laughed it off, their shared amusement of balm against the growing strangeness. But as it happened more frequently, laughter gave way to shared glances filled with unspoken questions.

They'd reach for the same item at the same time, their hands brushing in a way that felt electric, charged with a familiarity they couldn't explain. Sometimes they'd both moved to do something in unison, like turning to look out a window or walking in the same direction without speaking. It was as if they were tethered together by an unseen force, their movements and thoughts flowing as one, without the need for words. Then there were the memories, half-formed, shadowy recollections that seemed to bleed into their conversations, slipping through the cracks of their shared moments.

They'd talk about childhood experiences, only to stumble upon details that didn't quite add up, moments that felt like they belonged to both of them and yet, somehow, to neither. One evening, as they sat on a park bench beneath the fading light of dusk, Jason started talking about a family trip to a lake. He could picture it vividly, the cool morning air, the mist rising from the water, and the way his family had rented a small red rowboat. He remembered dangling his hand over the side, trailing his fingers through the rippling water as they drifted lazily across the lake. Lily's face lit up as he spoke, and she chimed in, almost without thinking.

We did that too. We went to this lake up north, and I remember my family renting a boat, though ours was blue. I used to let my fingers trail through the water too, watching the ripples spread. She laughed softly, as though reliving a cherished memory. But then her brow furrowed her expression tinged with confusion. It's so strange, though. It feels like, like I can almost picture your red boat too, even though I know we never had one. Jason felt a chill creeped down his spine, a strange mixture of recognition and disorientation washing over him.

That's, weird, he murmured. I can picture the blue boat now, like I've seen it somewhere before, even though I know that's not right. They exchanged a glance, both sensing the eerie similarity between their memories, the way the details overlapped yet contradicted each other. like two halves of a story struggling to fit. Later, the topic came up again when they were grabbing groceries together. They were wandering down the aisles, laughing about some of the strange items they found,

when Lily stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing as though a distant memory had resurfaced. You know, she began, her voice soft and reflective, when I was a kid, I used to be terrified of getting separated from my mom in places like this. The tall shelves made me feel so small, like they were closing in on me. I got lost once, Jason nodded, almost instinctively, feeling a strange familiarity with her words that made his chest tighten. It was in the serial aisle, he interrupted, the word slipping out without thought. You stood there, calling out, but it was so crowded that no one could hear you.

And you, he hesitated, suddenly aware of how strange it was that he knew this, that he could feel it so vividly. You were holding a box of. Frosted flakes, right, Lily froze, her eyes widening as she stared at him in shock. Jason, I've never told anyone about the frosted flakes. I didn't even remember that part until just now. The color drained from Jason's face as he tried to reconcile what he just said, how he could

know something so specific, something she'd never shared. He could practically see her there, a small, frightened child clutching the box, her wide eyes darting around as the shelves towered over her, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows that only deepened her fear. I don't know how I knew that, he admitted, shaking his head, as a chill ran through him. It's like, it's like I can picture it. Like I was there, Lily's hands trembled slightly as she tightened her grip on the grocery

cart, her gaze distant, unfocused. I. I don't understand this, Jason. How can you know something that I barely remember myself? They stood there in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by shelves of cereal and brightly colored boxes, but it felt like they were the only two people in the world. The strange connection between them, the feeling that their lives were somehow woven together in ways they couldn't explain, pressed down on them, as if an invisible force was pulling

them closer, binding them in a web they couldn't yet see. Do you think, Jason began, his voice barely a whisper? Do you think there's more to this than just coincidence? Like, maybe our lives have been connected somehow, even before we met. Lily's eyes met his, a flicker of fear and wonder mingling in her gaze. I don't know, but it's starting to feel that way, she admitted. The eerie familiarity between them only grew, as if their lives were blind. blending together. Then, one afternoon, as they strolled down the main street on their way to grab

coffee, they passed an old craft store with a weathered sign, and Jason felt a pang of deja vu. Jason's gaze was drawn to an old, weathered shop on the corner, tucked between more modern storefronts. It looked out of place, like a remnant from another time, its exterior worn by years of wind and weather. The paint was faded, a washed out shade that might have once been a cheerful yellow but now looked more like dull ochre. The windows were thick with dust, and dust, obscuring whatever lay inside, and an old wooden sign above the door read, Crafter's Cove, in chipped, curling letters that barely caught the light. A collection of wind chimes hung from the awning, tangled and silent, swaying faintly as though

stirred by some unseen force. Jason slowed, staring at the shop with a sense of familiarity that prickled at the edge of his mind. I feel like I've been here before, he murmured, the word slipping out without thought. His family would never have come here, they weren't the type to venture into small, odd craft stores. And yet, as he looked at the faded storefront, he felt a pole, like a thread connecting him to something he couldn't name. Lily nodded, looking at the store with a faint smile. I remember coming here with my family once, but I know it looked, different somehow.

Like it wasn't so faded and run down, Jason nodded, feeling an inexplicable urge to keep looking, to push through the dusty glass and discover what lay hidden inside. It's like, a dream I can't remember. Lily took a step closer, peering at the dimly lit window. I remember, my mom was looking for paints or something, and there were these cute little sculptures on a shelf near the front, she said slowly, as if piecing together the memory as she spoke. They were little clay animals, Jason interrupted, surprising himself. A tiny fox, a rabbit with a little chipped ear, and, a turtle painted in shades of blue and green, with a little flower on its shell, Lily turned to him, her mouth falling open in shock.

Yes, she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. Exactly like that. The fox was painted orange with these tiny white spots, and the rabbit looked like it was about to hop away. Jason shook his head, his heart pounding. I've never been in this store. I've never seen those sculptures in my life, Lily. But, it's like I know them.

Like they're etched into my memory, even though I've never set foot in there. They stood there, the dusty windows and faded paint somehow feeling more significant, more alive, than the bustling street around them. Jason could almost see the sculptures on the shelf just inside the door, could picture the way the light would catch the colors, the way his fingers would itch to reach out and touch them. Jason shivered, the sensation creeping over him like a cold mist settling into his bones. The logical part of his mind insisted it was nothing, that it was just an odd series of

coincidences layered on top of a natural connection. But he couldn't deny the feeling that lurked just beneath the surface, a quiet certainty that there was more to this than chance. It was like he and Lily were only seeing the edges of something vast and complex, a puzzle they were part of without fully understanding its shape. They continued walking, the shared silence stretching between them. Jason's thoughts churned, trying to grasp what all of this meant. Every instinct told him that something lay hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be unearthed.

He felt like a traveler lost in a maze, each turn pulling him closer to a truth he could sense but not yet see. It was as if he and Lily held two halves of the same story, both essential but incomplete, their lives tangled together by a force beyond either of their control. Finally, he broke the silence. Do you think, do you think there's something we're supposed to remember? Something we've both forgotten. Lily glanced at him, her eyes reflecting the same confusion in curiosity he felt.

I don't know, she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. but it's like, it's like I'm on the edge of a memory I can't reach, like something's pulling me toward it, but it's just out of sight. They shared a look, the weight of unspoken questions pressing down on them, wrapping around them like an invisible thread drawing tighter with each passing day. The puzzle pieces continued to hover just beyond their grasp, teasing them with glimpses of a truth that felt both inevitable and unknowable. One night, they lay stretched out on a blanket in the grass, their breaths visible in the cool air as they stared up at the vast night sky.

The stars sparkled above them, like fragments of secrets too old to be understood, scattered across the universe. The silence stretched around them, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the world beyond. They'd been talking for hours, sharing fragments of their pasts, trying to trace the lines that seemed to connect them, but every detail only led them back to the same unsettling truth, a realization neither of them could name but both felt. Jason finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and hesitant.

Do you think, he paused, swallowing hard, as if saying it out loud would make it all too real? Do you think maybe, we've known each other before? Lily turned to look at him, her eyes wide and searching. Her face was cast in shadows, her expression unreadable, but he could see the flicker of something in her gaze, something he couldn't name. Like, in another life, she whispered, as if afraid of the answer. Jason shrugged, though he felt a strange sense of relief in voicing the thought that had been plaguing him, haunting him, since their first encounter. I don't know. It sounds crazy,

but, there are things about you, about us, that just feel like, like they've always been there. He could feel his heart pounding, his mind racing with the impossible possibility that they were somehow part of each other's story long before now. Lily took a deep, shaky breath, her gaze drifting back to the sky. I felt that too, she murmured, her voice barely audible. Like I've known you before. Like meeting you wasn't the first time, but, the first time I can remember. She hugged her knees to her chest, the vulnerability in her posture mirroring the tension

growing between them. But what does that even mean, Jason? Are we? Are we supposed to be together? Is this all just fate, or, or something else? Jason felt a tightness in his chest, an ache he couldn't explain. I don't know. But what if it's all just some, cosmic fluke?

Like maybe we're reading too much into this because we want to be. it to mean something." He hated the thought, but he couldn't ignore it either. They were falling together so easily, as if by some design, yet the mystery of it all was beginning to weigh on him, filling him with a mixture of wonder and dread. Lily's face tightened, her confusion clear as she stared into the night. But it doesn't feel like a fluke, she whispered, her voice laced with desperation. Every time we talk, every memory we share, it's like we're. I don't know, like we're peeling back layers of something that's been buried.

Something that we're supposed to find, she turned to him, her eyes glistening in the dim light. Maybe it's a past life, or fate, or, or maybe it's just that, she faltered, her voice catching, and then she forced herself to finish. Or maybe it's just that we're supposed to love each other. Jason's breath caught at her words, his heart racing as he struggled to process the implications. The idea of love felt almost too simple, too human to explain what they were experiencing, yet it was the only answer that felt real, something he could understand in a world that suddenly felt vast and unknowable.

But why, Lily, he asked, his voice laced with a quiet desperation. Why would love feel this way? Why would it come with, with memories that aren't ours, and feelings that don't make sense? They lay there in silence, the weight of their questions pressing down on them, suffocating and profound. Jason reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, grounding himself in the warmth of her touch, the one tangible thing he could hold on to in the midst of so much uncertainty. Maybe we're not supposed to know, he said finally, his voice a rough whisper.

Maybe it's enough to just, be here, together, and let whatever this is unfold. Maybe it'll make sense one day, or maybe it never will. But I can't deny that, that I'm meant to be here, right now, with you. Lily squeezed his hand, her grip tight, like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go. I feel the same, she whispered, her voice trembling. But I'm scared, Jason. I'm scared of what this means, of what we'll find if we keep looking. Me too, he admitted, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared fear.

But I'm more scared of walking away, of never knowing what this really is. They lay in silence, clutching each other's hands as if they were lifelines, tethered together by a force neither of them could understand. And as the stars shimmered above them, endless and unreachable, they felt like two small pieces caught in something much bigger, a story too vast for them to comprehend, yet one they were bound to. unravel, together. Far off in the distance, a faint rumble of thunder echoed across the sky. Jason wasn't sure what had changed, but everything felt different since that night at the

fair. In the days that followed, it was as if a door had opened, one he'd never thought to look for. Their days blurred together, a steady rhythm of texts, late-night conversations, and casual meet-ups at places they'd soon come to consider their own. He'd never met anyone with whom conversation flowed so naturally, as though every sentence was merely an extension of something they'd been saying forever. She laughed easily, talked about things he'd never thought of, and made the world feel larger and more vibrant. There was an effortless ease between them that defied explanation, an unspoken connection that drew him in deeper each time they were together. Jason had never felt so at ease with someone, nor had he ever felt so thoroughly

pulled out of his own comfort zone. Lily's spontaneity brought out a side of him he rarely let see the light of day, the part of him that wanted to explore, to embrace the unfamiliar, to jump without looking. And the more time he spent with her, the more he saw their differences, but he couldn't deny how much he craved her presence. They met at the local park one crisp Saturday afternoon, the air carrying the sweet, earthy scent of fall. Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they wandered along the winding paths, golden and red,

scattering in their wake. Lily was talking animatedly about an art class she'd just started, her hands punctuating each word as if trying to bring her thoughts to life. She had a way of lighting up when she talked about her projects, and today was no different. Her face glowed as she described her latest piece, a swirling nightscape filled with stars she was trying to capture from memory, with deep blues blending into purples and greens. It's like, I don't know, she said, struggling to find the right words. The sky, it's just so alive.

When you look up at it, you don't just see stars, you see this whole universe out there, moving and changing. I want to paint that feeling, like there's something just beyond what we can see, Jason nodded, captivated by the intensity in her voice, even though he didn't understand much about painting. I've never thought of it that way, he admitted. For me, the sky's always just been, peaceful. Like something solid and dependable, Lily laughed, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. Of course you would see it that way.

You're so grounded, Jason. You see order in things, patterns, even when they're just chaos. Me? I see the chaos and want to dive right in. He chuckled, feeling a slight blush creep into his cheeks. Maybe you're rubbing off on me. I mean, before I met you, I never would have thought about seeing the sky like that. Good, she said with a grin. Everyone needs a little chaos now and then. And you know what? I think you could use a bit more of it. He laughed, unable to deny the thrill he felt at the idea. But beneath the laughter, he felt the sense of grounding he hadn't realized he'd been missing. There was something exhilarating about being near her, something that made him feel more alive. Yet, as close as he felt to her, their differences were always there, like two halves of a hole that had never quite fit together until now. They walked on, discussing everything from art to music to the little quirks of their families. Lily's stories were vibrant, filled with spontaneity and moments of impulsive decision-making.

She told him about her mom's art days, when she'd cover the entire kitchen in newspaper and paint with abandon and her dad's tendency to disappear into long philosophical musings that bordered on passionate debates. Her family sounded chaotic and warm, like a house filled with a thousand colors all at once. Jason's family, on the other hand, was structured, orderly, predictable. His mom was meticulous about keeping the house clean, organizing things into neat compartments, a trait that extended into every part of their lives. His dad was a reserved, practical man, the kind who preferred his life planned out five years in advance, with no surprises. To Jason, they had always been the definition of stability, a steady presence, unwavering. Your family sounds, intense, Lily said with a

grin, tilting her head. But in a good way, I mean, like, I bet they always know where their car keys are. He laughed, nodding. Oh yeah. My mom's actually got a little bowl by the door where she makes us all leave our keys. It drives her nuts if we don't use it. Lily laughed, her laughter carrying on the breeze. That is so not my family. I don't think my mom's ever known where her keys are. She just, trusts the universe to help her find them eventually. He shrugged, grinning. Guess it comes with the territory. My parents are both engineers, so I think it's hardwired in me or something. I grew up hearing about the scientific method before I could even spell it. That explains a lot, Lily teased, but there was a warmth in her smile, as if she found

is practicality charming. My mom's an artist, too. She says artists have to learn to follow the currents of inspiration, even when it makes no sense. My dad, though, he's nothing like her. He's all business, structured, exact, super grounded. But I think that's why they work together. Jason found himself smiling at the contrast between their families. My family's kind of the opposite. They're both logical thinkers. My mom is super organized, practically schedules our whole lives down to the minute. My dad, well, he's got a whole room in our house full of charts and diagrams for things like financial projections and project timelines. Sometimes I think he organizes his dreams, Lily's laugh rang out, her eyes sparkling with delight. Oh, wow. But I can

see it. You're like this calm, collected person who probably never forgets an assignment or misses a deadline, Jason shrugged, smiling sheepishly. Well, I guess you're not wrong. As they continued down the path, Jason became aware of little details that seemed both familiar and oddly unsettling. The way Lily laughed, open and genuine, reminded him of his younger sister, Sarah. And the color of her eyes, that clear, deep green, was eerily similar to his moms. But in Lily, those features carried a spark he hadn't seen in his own family, a fire that seemed ready to blaze out of control at any moment. And then there was her dad.

Jason had only heard bits and pieces about him from Lily, but he'd seen a photo of him on her alone, a tall, lean man with dark hair and piercing eyes. The resemblance to Jason's father was uncanny, almost unsettling. But while Jason's father was practical to the point of being predictable, Lily's dad sounded like a man driven by restless energy, always moving from one idea to the next, fueled by some inner fire Jason couldn't quite understand. Jason couldn't shake the feeling that their families were mirror images, physically similar in so many ways but fundamentally different in personality, like reflections in a distorted

mirror. These little oddities nagged at him, making his mind itch with a need to understand, to explain the unexplainable. He told himself it was just a coincidence, but a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that. For someone as rooted in logic as he was, it was an unsettling thought. But with Lily, these boundaries between what made sense and what didn't seem to blur. So, Lily said, nudging him out of his thoughts, you ever wonder why we're so different. I mean, it's almost like we come from opposite worlds. He smiled, though her words struck a chord. Yeah, I guess so. Maybe that's why we get along so well, balance or something. Maybe. She looked at him thoughtfully, her expression unreadable. Or maybe the universe just

knew we'd need each other. Jason felt a chill, remembering the distant thunder from the night of the fair, the strange sensation that had passed between them. He wanted to brush off the eerie feeling, but it lingered, a whisper in the back of his mind. They fell silent, their footsteps crunching over the fallen leaves, the autumn air cool and sharp. As they walked, he felt the weight of questions that seemed to hang in the air, questions he didn't know how to ask, let alone answer. One evening, as they sat tucked into a cozy corner of a dimly lit coffee shop, the conversation

drifted, as it often did, to stories of their families and upbringings. A candle flickered on the table between them, casting a warm glow over Lily's face as she listened intently, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes on him with that steady, inviting gaze that always made him feel a little braver. Jason was telling her about his family's rituals, the unwavering structure that had defined his childhood. My mom is the queen of routine, he said, smiling at the memory. Dinner was at exactly 6.30 every night, no exceptions.

She even had this little dinner bell she'd ring, like we were living in some storybook. And my dad, well, he has this habit of giving life advice every chance he gets. He calls them guidelines for the future, but we all know they're just mini lectures. Lily grinned, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee mug. That's so charming, though. I mean, yeah, kind of intense, but it sounds like there's a lot of love in those routines. Jason chuckled, nodding. There is.

It's like their way of keeping everything grounded. My dad always says, if you don't know where you're going, make sure you know where you are. I think that sums up my family pretty well. Lily's smile softened, a distant look passing over her face. It's funny, she said, her voice gentle, as if she were weighing each word. Your mom sounds a lot like mine, but at the same time, they're worlds apart. My mom's organized too, but in this really, chaotic way. She'll block off creative time on her calendar, but then end up using it for whatever strikes

her in the moment. One time, she set aside an hour to paint, but by the end, she'd rearrange the entire living room because she needed a new perspective. Lily laughed, her eyes bright. My dad calls it organized chaos. Jason laughed along with her, though a strange, quiet unease settled in the back of his mind. It was a small thing, he told himself, just an odd coincidence. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

Somehow, every story, every quirk, every habit their families had in common felt less like happenstance and more like echoes, reflections of one another across some unseen divide. He took a sip of his coffee, the warmth grounding him for a moment. But the thought lingered, a question that refused to fade. You ever wonder why we have all these little similarities, he asked, trying to keep his tone light but unable to fully mask the curiosity, and unease, in his voice. Lily shrugged, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she watched him. Maybe it's just the universe's way of telling us we were meant to meet.

Or maybe, she paused, her gaze drifting as if she were searching for the right words. Maybe we're just weirdly in sync. Jason's laughter was more nervous this time. Weirdly in sync, yeah, maybe that's it. But the unease lingered, growing almost palpable between them, as though there was something unsaid, something hiding just below the surface. He could see the hint of it in her expression too, the way her fingers played absently with the edge of her sleeve,

her eyes distant as though she was grappling with thought she couldn't quite voice. After a moment, she looked back at him, her smile dawn soft and thoughtful. Do you believe in, fate? she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, as though saying the word out loud might make it real. He hesitated, feeling an odd weight in her question. I'm not sure. I've always been more of a logic kind of guy.

You know, a leads to be, cause and effect, he paused, considering his next words. But with you, sometimes it feels like there's something more. Like we were, meant to cross paths, her eyes lit up, a soft, almost haunted smile tugging at her lips. I feel it too. Like there's this connection between us, something bigger than either of us can explain. Jason shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. He wanted to brush off the feeling, to laugh it away as he usually did when things got a little too mystical for his liking.

But with Lily, the strange, inexplicable feeling was impossible to ignore. She seemed to exist on a different wavelength, pulling him into a world of spontaneity and possibility he never would have ventured into alone. Maybe that's all it is, he said finally, attempting a smile. Just a really, really intense coincidence, but Lily didn't look convinced. She leaned in, her gaze locked on his, and in that moment, the hum of the coffee shop faded away. What if it's more than that, she asked, her voice quiet but filled with a gravity that made his heart skip? What if we're, connected, somehow?

Like, our lives were always meant to intersect, even if we don't know why. Jason felt a strange thrill at her words, an almost dizzying sense that she was putting voice to something he'd felt but couldn't name. His rational mind wanted to argue, to dismiss it as nothing more than a product of their attraction, of spending so much time together. But another part of him, the part that had been quietly whispering since the night of the fair, wondered if there was something more. He shook his head, trying to ground himself. You make it sound like some kind of, cosmic alignment, he said, his attempt at a joke falling flat as his own words echoed strange. strangely in his ears. Maybe it is, she replied, undeterred, her gaze unwavering.

Maybe there are forces out there, things we don't understand, that pull us together, people were meant to meet. Her words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling over him, stirring something deep inside. And for a moment, Jason felt as though they were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable, like the world as he knew it had stretched to reveal something just beyond his grasp. They sat in silence, her words reverberating in his mind as he tried to reconciling.

them with his usual worldview. The idea that they could be bound by some unseen force felt almost laughable, his logical mind instinctively wanted to brush it off, to tease her for being so fanciful. But something about the intensity in her gaze stopped him, made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this connection than he'd thought. Lily glanced around the coffee shop, her eyes flickering from wall to wall as if something were slightly off. You know, I swear the walls weren't this color last time I was here. Jason blinked, looking at around the small cafe. The walls were a familiar deep green, a cozy, earthy color that matched the dim lighting

and mismatched furniture. He'd been here countless times, and as far as he could remember, the walls had always been that shade. Really, he asked, frowning slightly. They've always been green as far as I know. I don't think they've changed since I first started coming here. Lily tilted her head, her brows knitting together in concentration. Ha, she said, almost to herself.

That's weird. I could have sworn they used to be. I don't know, a warm brown or maybe even a dark blue, Jason chuckled, trying to lighten the sudden heaviness that had settled between them. Are you sure you're not thinking of some other place? She laughed softly, though the puzzled expression didn't leave her face. Yeah, maybe. It just felt like I'd been here before when the walls were a different color.

But I must be losing my mind. She shook her head, brushing it off, but a strange, thoughtful silence lingered between them. Jason wanted to say something to ease the tension, to dismiss the odd comment, but the unease tugged at him. It was a small thing, just a passing remark, but something about it felt, wrong, like a detail that didn't quite fit. And as he looked at her, the flicker of understanding he'd noticed before was still there in her eyes, mirroring something he felt but couldn't name.

In that moment, looking into her gaze, it didn't feel impossible. It felt as though she were a reflection of a hidden part of himself, a connection beyond explanation, as though she held some piece of him he hadn't known was missing. And despite every instinct to brush it off, to hold on to his familiar logic, he found himself caught in that gaze, wondering if maybe she was right. Over the next few weeks, their relationship deepened in ways Jason hadn't expected. Each day seemed to reveal a new layer to Lily, a new piece of her world that felt just out of reach but irresistible all the same.

She was constantly pulling him into her orbit, introducing him to parts of life he'd never thought to explore, spontaneous outings, unexpected detours, and adventures that left him feeling like he was experiencing life on a different frequency. With Lily, everything felt heightened, as if the world had turned up its brightness and warmth. They would skip classes to chase sunsets, hiking to high points on the edge of town, or spend hours stargazing on a chilly night, pointing out constellations while their breath hung invisible puffs in the night air. Jason found himself staying up until dawn with her, debating philosophy and the mysteries

of the universe over cups of tea, talking about everything and nothing, the conversations deepening with each hour. He caught himself letting go of his careful routines, embracing the unexpected, her energy breaking down his usual walls one impulsive decision at a time. And yet, no matter how close they became, a strange feeling lingered in the background. Sometimes, he'd catch her staring off into the distance, her expression distant and pensive, like she was lost in a thought too complex or too heavy to share. He could sense a quiet struggle behind her eyes, as if she, too, felt the pull of something

unseen. There were moments when they'd be laughing, sharing a quiet moment, only for her gaze to drift, her smile to falter, like she was trying to remember something she couldn't quite grasp. The closeness they shared was undeniable, their lives intertwining in a way that felt almost predestined. Yet there was something separating them too, an invisible thread that both connected and distanced them, hinting at a deeper truth just out of reach. It was a barrier neither of them could name, an unseen weight pressing down on them both.

One night, as they sat on a hill overlooking the city, watching the lights twinkle like distant stars, Jason felt the tension grow too much to ignore. The silence between them was heavy, the kind that begged for unspoken truths to be brought to light. He hesitated, searching for the right words, but the question had been pressing at him for too long to keep silent. Lily, do you ever feel like? I don't know, like there's something off about all of this, he asked,

his voice barely a whisper. Lily turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the glow of the city below, her face softened by the shadows of the night. A flicker of understanding passed over her expression, as though she'd been waiting for him to ask. She bit her lip, hesitating before she spoke. Sometimes, yeah, she admitted softly, her voice tinged with a vulnerability he rarely saw.

It's like there's something pulling us together, something bigger than just, us. But also, there's this feeling that we're only seeing part of it. like there's this bigger puzzle we're part of and we don't have all the pieces. Jason nodded, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air. I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than we know. The way our families are so similar, the way we met, it just doesn't feel like coincidence. It's like, there's something that's been set in motion, something we can't control. Lily took his hand, her fingers warm against his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Maybe we're not supposed to know, not yet anyway, she murmured, a trace of something. sadness woven through her words. Maybe it's one of those things that only make sense when you look back, not while you're living it. We just have to, trust that it'll all come together someday. Jason held her gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken questions pressing between them. They were opposites in so many ways, her wild spontaneity, his careful logic, her impulsiveness, his grounded stability. And yet, they fit together in a way that felt like a long lost balance, as if they were pieces of the same story that had finally found each other. Even as a sense of dread flickered at the edge of his thoughts, he pushed it aside, grounding

himself in the warmth of her presence. But as they sat there, surrounded by the quiet of the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were caught in something far bigger than either of them could understand, their lives bound by invisible threads, tangled in ways they couldn't yet see. He could almost sense the shape of something vast and intricate hovering just beyond their reach, a pattern woven into the fabric of their lives that defied the limits of logic and reason. They both turned their gaze back to the city lights below, the night stretching out around them in a vast, quiet expanse. And as Jason sat there with her, hand in hand,

he felt the thrill and weight of the unknown settled deep within him, a sense that they were teetering on the edge of something extraordinary. The fortune teller sat alone in her dimly lit room, the quiet hum of the fair long faded into memory. Her hands, weathered and steady, hovered over a shallow bowl filled with water that rippled with visions only she could see. In the shifting reflections, Jason and Lily's faces appeared and vanished, two souls caught in an endless loop, bound by forces they could neither see nor understand. She watched as they sat together on the hilltop, hands intertwined, their words and fears drifting out like whispers on the night air. The faintest smile touched her lips, but it was tinged with a deep sadness. She had seen

it all before, their paths, their struggle, their connection stretching across worlds like threads in an intricate tapestry. And as much as she'd hoped to spare them the truth, the time had come to reveal what lay hidden. It is time, she murmured, her voice a quiet echo that filled the stillness of her room. The words carried an undeniable weight, as if spoken not just by her, but by the very universe itself. She dipped a finger into the water, and the images of Jason and Lily dissolved into ripples, fading into darkness. Their journey would soon bring them to her door, seeking answers they could no longer deny. But answers came with a price, and the fortune teller knew that the truth she held would unravel more than they could ever

imagine. The echoes of thunder still rang faintly in her ears, a warning as old as the worlds themselves. And as she extinguished the candle beside her, plunging the room into shadow, she whispered a silent plea that, somehow, they might find a way to mend the rift. O. P.'s note, this is a true personal story for my childhood. The following events did happen, or at least how I perceived them. However, feel free to make your own judgments. ever since I was a very young lad, I always pondered the existence of extraterrestrials, perhaps like all of us from a certain age. For me, growing up in the northeast of England, no older than ten, the existence of aliens,

or UFOs for that matter, was as mysterious and uncertain as the existence of God himself. Even the existence of other things like vampires, weirwolves, Bigfoot, or the Loch Ness monster, Nessie, as we Brits like to call her, was either as likely or unlikely to exist. As that young, blonde-haired boy with pointy ears, the only aliens I knew of were from the movies I watched. Whether it was War of the Worlds or Independence Day, these movies could only imagine the possibility of alien life and the consequences of that, without providing the real thing. But by the year 2012 and barely into secondary school, it would seem I may finally have my answer,

whether I really accepted it or not. I have already recently shared both, yes, both of my childhood UFO experiences before. But being a writer by trade, I thought I'd use my craft to revisit them, in the hope of fleshing out as much of these two mysteries as possible, so I can decisively decide if what I saw as a boy was indeed real or not. For the reader, it will also be up to you to decide if the events I witnessed happened as I saw them, or if my childhood imagination got the better or me, or if I'm really just full of it.

Not that it's really worth much of a damn without any evidence, but the following of what I'm about to tell you did in fact happen. As I saw it, and to the best of my recollection. By the year 2012, I had been growing up in the east riding of Yorkshire for the past seven years, in the average-sized, but oddly named port town of Gould. This town was of no particular interest, except perhaps for its two landmarks, two rather tall water towers, humorously named the salt and pepper pots. Settled besides a tributary river, Gull was sparsely surrounded by patches of farmland and large crop fields, perhaps the perfect setting for a UFO story, like the crop circle stories I knew of in the United States. However, my first UFO experience wouldn't happen in some field on the outskirts of town, but in the town itself. More precisely, it would happen no more than 100 meters outside of my

bedroom window. Unfortunately, I don't remember the precise year this first event took place, although I do know it happened in either 2011 or 2012. Therefore, I was either in my final year of primary school, or my nerve-wracking first year of secondary. Regardless, I would have been around 11 years old. As a child and even through my teens, I was always a bad sleeper, either getting no sleep at all or waking up in the very early hours of the morning. It was on one of these early mornings that I woke up to my silent, pitch-black bedroom, with everyone else in my house fast asleep. Not having an alarm clock or phone to tell the time, I wondered what time of night it was, perhaps to know how much more sleep I could get. As I said, this was all a regular

occurrence for me, as was peeking my head through the curtain next to my bedside to see if the sky was still dark. By looking out for my bedroom window, I would have seen my 20-meter-long garden which I regularly played football on, as well as the neighboring house on the other side of my back garden fence. But what I then saw, in the short distance over the roof of this particular neighboring house, would be a complete first. What I saw, flying, gliding, or simply just moving, 100 meters or less away from my bedroom window, was what I can only describe as a flying saucer-shaped-like object. In the past, I described this object as the most stereotypical flying saucer shape you could ever see or imagine. The night was too dark to see its color,

but I remember it making a distinctive humming noise as it moved over the town beneath it. But how I knew this object was saucer shaped, was because as it moved, or indeed hummed, a single row of small bright lights moved around and around. At that age, if I imagined a flying saucer, I would have pictured a particularly large craft, but this object seemed no larger than a car or a small van. The speed at which this thing moved was not particularly fast or slow, but fast enough so that what I was seeing, was gone in the next five to ten seconds. Not knowing if what I had just seen was in fact real or just a dream, I pinched and slapped myself, hard enough to wake up almost anyone, but I was awake, and as you can

imagine, I was in disbelief. If any one thing, paranormal or otherwise, that you didn't already know or believe in just appeared to you, confirming absolute proof, whether it was God or Jesus Christ, a heaven or a hell, even ghosts and yes, aliens. I think anyone would have had the very same first reaction. This can't be real, I must be dreaming, do I need to question the meaning and my own understanding of life. That was the reaction I remember having, rational in the face of the unbelievable. If you were to ask me what I did next, having witnessed such an extraordinary and incomprehensible

sight, you'd be surprised to learn that what I did, was simply lay back down on my pillow and eventually fall back to sleep. You'd probably be surprised, but that's what I did. The very next day, with the event of last night still fresh in my mind, I found my mom putting laundry away in her and my dad's bedroom. Feeling comfortable enough to tell my mom almost anything, even which girls at school I fancied, I told her exactly what I saw the night before. Like any parent would, having been told a fictitious-sounding story by your young child,

my mom showed no indication of surprise or even shock, instead responding in the lines of, oh wow, or oh really, as she carried on folding the laundry on the bed. I asked her if she believed me and she said she did, but even before I confessed to her what I saw, I knew she wouldn't. Maybe I just needed to get what I saw that night instantly off my chest, and telling my mom would be the best way to do it, without facing ridicule from my friends, being laughed at by my sister, or simply just ignored by my dad. As unbelievable as this story that I told my mom was, I knew what I saw that night was real, and I think most people on this planet know when they are dreaming and when they are not, and I just knew I wasn't. If this was the case, then what I

saw from my bedroom window that night was indeed a flying saucer, a UFO. It may then come as a surprise to whomever is reading this, as it did for me, to learn that despite bearing witness to what appeared to be an unforgettable UFO experience, I had almost completely forgotten about what happened that night, not fully recollecting what I saw until the latter part of last year. Was I in denial at what I saw. Did my mind just choose to repress the memory of it? When I first wrote of this experience only recently, an online user speculated as much to me, that my young brain couldn't comprehend what I had seen and therefore repressed the whole experience. But, like I have already said, this would not be my only potential UFO encounter, and the next time, thankfully, I wouldn't

be alone. During the summer of 2012 and having just graduated primary school, my six friends and I ventured almost every day to the exact same place along the outskirts of town. We had found a field with a small adjoining wooded area, and very quickly, this area became our brand new den, which we spent most days climbing trees or playing tag hide and seek. At the very end of our den was a four feet wide creek, separating the field we played in from the town's rugby club that was also on the outskirts of town. The reason I bring up this creek is because my friends and I, upon discovering it, would also spend a lot of our time there that summer. We enjoyed playing this juvenile game where one of us had

to leap over to the embankment on the other side, or cross via a narrow wooden plank we found to make a bridge. Being the attention seeker I was at that age, I was always willing to jump up and over to the other side. In fact, I was the best, anyone else who tried mostly ended up with one foot in the less than sanitary water. Several months later, however, and nearly halfway through our first year of secondary school, our tradition of jumping creeks and field hide and seek had sadly become far less frequent with the ongoing school year. That was until one afternoon, or maybe it was evening, I don't remember, my friends and I ventured back to our den and the nearby creek, crossing over and entering behind the grounds of the rugby club. These grounds

consisted of two large rugby fields and a smaller patch of grass by the side, which is where the creek had led us. What the five or six of us were doing there, I'm not sure. We did sometimes use the grounds to play tag hide and seek, or other times we just explored. But what I remember next from that afternoon slash evening, in whichever autumn month it was, was we caught sight of something flying in a not-too-distant sky, and heading directly our way. At first, we must have thought it was nothing more than an airplane or Royal Air Force craft, as our town had them passing the sky on a regular basis. The closer this thing got, however, the more it started to look like something else, something none of us had probably ever seen before. It started to

look like, what our juvenile, imaginative minds could only interpret as an alien spacecraft of some kind, so much so, that one of my friends said something in the lines of, is that a UFO, as though speaking the minds of all of us. Whatever this thing was, it was still coming our way, and flying curiously low. As close as it was now, I think we were all waiting for this craft to visually clarify for us that it was some kind of plane. But what I can still remember vividly, is this thing being directly over our heads, and my next thought while looking up to it was.

That is a UFO. An alien spaceship. Before any other thought could then enter my mind, whether it be one of awe, dread or panic, I hear one of my friends a meter or two behind me shout, S-H-I-T. By the time I look behind me, all I see is every one of my friends running away towards the embankment of the creek, as though running for their lives. If I recall, it was just me and my friend George who didn't. I'm sure I thought of running too, but I must have been in such awe or disbelief at what I was

seeing, and even if I did run, I thought it was sure to abduct me. Whether I ran or stood right where I was, I felt convinced there was nothing I could really do, if it was going to take me, it would. When I turn away for my friends to look back up at what I see to be an alien craft, what I instead see is some kind of low-flying military jet, turned slightly away from us now and flying off. My friends also must have noticed it was just a military jet, as they had stopped running and now joined slowly back with the rest of the group, realizing there was nothing to be

afraid of anymore. Although my memory of the following conversation is hazy, we did discuss what we had just seen, with every one of us indeed thinking it was a UFO at first, only to then realize it was a military jet. I don't remember the conversation going any further from there, or what we even did afterwards for that matter. We probably just went back into town and played football at the park. However, something I discreetly remember to this day, is that in the next two years that I still knew them, before packing up my things and moving abroad with my family, is that not a single one of us ever talked about the experience again, not even for a laugh. There was no, remember when we all thought we saw a UFO but it was really just a plane.

I did drift away from most of these friends by the following year, as we were all in separate classes in school and played for rival football teams. So perhaps they did talk about the experience, except without me there. In my last year before moving abroad, however, I did reacquaint myself with my best friend Kai, who was there that day at the rugby club. We had drama class together that year, and it was in these lessons that we learned all about these terrifying urban legends, in which the class afterwards had to dramatically perform them. It was also from these lessons that Kai and myself became obsessed with urban legends, so much so that we would watch scary YouTube videos about them. But in that same year,

enjoying to be scared together, not once, to my recollection, did either of us ever bring up that experience at the rugby club? Not once. Kai was one of my friends I saw run away that day, so he was obviously scared by the craft as well. But I never brought it up either. In fact, I think I almost forgot about the experience altogether, just like my first experience a year prior to it. But what's even crazier to me is that I seem to forget about both of these experiences, regardless of what they were, for the next ten years. If you're wondering why I am talking about this second experience, even though it only turned out to be a military jet, it's because since

recollecting my first experience recently, and becoming aquitint with UFO lore and history, some things about that day at the rugby club just don't seem to add up to me. Number one, if this was an RAF jet, then it was flying dangerously low, potentially 100 to 160 feet above us. From what I've researched, RAF jets can fly as low as 100 feet, but when it comes to populated areas containing vehicles and civilians, then it can go no lower than 500 feet. If this was a jet, it may not have even seen my friends and I,

but it was still flying in and around a populated town. Number two, I was 100% convinced that this craft flying over me was an alien craft, 100 feet or so above me and that is what I believed I was seeing. It was only when I looked to my friends running away and then back again, that it was somehow now a military jet. Number three, and perhaps the most confusing aspect of this experience, is that the RAF jet, from my recollection, made barely any noise. From what I've read, RAF jets at only 25 meters after takeoff are so loud, it can rupture your ear, drums. Like I said, this jet was no more than 160 feet above us, yet I could still hear my friend cuss the S word behind me. Having recently fallen down the UFO rabbit hole in the past year, I did come across one video, whether real or a hopes, of a spinning, bright glowing

light in the clear day sky, that slowly morphed into a standard airliner. Although in the video, this transition took the better part of a minute, I then wondered if the craft I saw that day could possibly have done the same thing. However, when I previously shared my experience is online, only several months ago, one person rationally suggested that the craft I saw could have in fact been the Avrovolcan XH 558, which was active in 2012 and based at Doncaster Sheffield Airport, not that far from ghoul. The Avro Vulcan is indeed a very odd-looking military craft, with wings resembling something like you would see out of Star Trek, maybe that's why it was called the Avro Vulcan. From what I remember, in the few seconds that I fully

believed this thing flying over me to be a UFO, it didn't strike me as flying saucer shaped, like the one I had seen a year before. Regardless, whatever this craft was, it definitely struck me as alien at first, and maybe what I thought I was seeing was a different kind of alien craft. Or maybe it really was just a military jet, an oddly shaped one at that. If you were to ask me now, in the year 2024, if what I saw in 2012 was either a UFO or simply an RAF jet, for the sake of rationality, I would say it was just a jet, whose strange appearance merely confused a group of 12-year-old boys. However, to conclude the speculation of this second experience, I will leave you with this. Not long after posting of my

experiences, an online user advised me to share my story with a specific UFO investigator, who particularly focuses on UFO activity in the Yorkshire area. Feeling in need of answers, I emailed this very same investigator. Intrigued by my story, he requested a conversation over the phone with me, and after relaying this second experience with him, highlighting how this jet was supposedly flying dangerously low, without producing much sound at all, he simply said to me that wasn't a military craft. If you were also to ask me whether I believe in aliens, would say that I do. Not because of what I saw, I still don't know if what I saw was real. I do believe in aliens, or whatever they are, there are countless theories, simply because

since I first fell down this UFO rabbit hole, learning of the experiences of many others, the existence of extraterrestrials no longer appears irrational to me. After all, can we really be the only intelligent beings to exist in this universe? The answer is I don't know. But what I do know is that for me, like it will be for countless others, the truth is still out there somewhere, maybe even right here on our very own planet. Part one my dentist became a credit card thief and my dad made fun of him to his face. My former dentist was a nice guy. He never seemed like the sort of guy who would ever commit a crime, especially not steal. One night on the actual local news we found out that my dentist had gone to a local Jets pizza and stumbled upon a credit

card on the ground and for some reason picked it up, walked inside Jets and used it to pay for his pizza. This next part one can't remember how, but he got caught in the act. Police were called and he was quickly arrested. The police stated that there was no reason he should have done this because apparently he had over $200 cash in his wallet and decided to use the card instead. My dentist made a statement and said, I just had a lapse of judgment or something of that nature. Fast forward. He's back in his office taking appointments and here comes my father for a cleaning. My dad said everything went normal and the dentist seemed normal.

Here's the part one still can't believe. My dad, in front of the secretary, and dentist himself, pulled out his credit card to pay the co-pay and asked, do I have to be careful waving this thing around in here? Or something of that nature. He thought he was hilarious. My dad's always been a quick-witted savage, but this story makes me die every time I think about it and I thought I'd share. No, the dentist didn't like it. Pretty sure my dad said he kind of looked embarrassed and walked away.

I feel bad honestly, but also don't steal. Part two my GF is traumatized. My girlfriend and I of five years went through a pretty bad event. It happened about six months ago and I don't want to rush her recovery or make her feel like a burden, but I mostly just want to know how I can help her. To explain, my girlfriend is 20 years old and I, male, and 21. I have a friend who is 27 which he wasn't ever really my friend, but more really a friend of friends. Six months ago I had a serious argument with him outside his motel room.

I don't know why he was in a motel room that day, but he is a really sketchy guy so I didn't want to know. Anyways, the argument was about how he kept making sexual comments towards my GF, I told him I didn't like it and he needed to stop. He would always say stuff like, she should be with someone like me, what I would do to have her in my bed, he told me that I should just suck it up and be glad he's not trying to steal her from me. A little after, the argument gets more intense and we are both about to get physical. My girlfriend comes to check in on me since I left her waiting in the car since I didn't

think it was going to take long. This guy sees my girlfriend and laughs, takes her into his room, by force, and locks me out and opens the curtains. The entrance she took was behind the other guy, so basically. he was standing in between us. He's super massive and I can't stand a chance against him. I'm watching him throw my GF on the bed and get violent with her as she's sobbing and fighting as much as she can. I'm screaming for help and trying to break down the door, but no one is around. After a minute, I eventually got the door open with a fire extinguisher in my hand and the

first thing I did was hit him as hard as I could with it over his head. To this day I wish I settled this with other people around. My girlfriend is okay, physically. He had punched and hit her, but he was about to raped her. We called the cops and explained everything, after, I found out that I had ended up killing him but I wasn't jailed since I was found innocent for protecting my girlfriend. Now six months later, I'm still so shaken up by everything, but I can't even imagine how my girlfriend is. She is in therapy and in support groups, but I can still tell she isn't okay. I want to be there for here, I love her so much and it hurts that I put her in that situation. Even if it wasn't my intention, I didn't think about how anything could go

wrong. Edit, I'm sorry that the story is confusing for a lot of people. If I'm honest I didn't expect a lot of traction, so I'll just clear things up. I didn't go to buy drugs, I texted him and asked if I could talk to him. I live in a town where violent crime isn't too common and my lack of planning and just thinking skills are my fault, I know. Second of all, I didn't go through a lot of details because I was mostly summarizing the horrible stuff that is causing my girlfriend and eyes pain. His motel room was upstairs, I left my GF downstairs in the parking lot, safe in my car. After she heard a lot of yelling, she ran up to check and that's when things escalated. Third, there were witnesses, cameras, and there was an investigation.

I didn't just whack him on the head and he tumbled to the ground. It was a much bigger scale, but for saving time I'm obviously not going to go into depth. As for how physically the man got, he had pinned her to the bed and hit her face a bit. It took a long time for us to recover and things to die down which is why we are both finally settling. I go to therapy, so does my girlfriend and on top of that we go to therapy together. We have been living together since she turned 18 since we come from abusive families and I believe this has made us even closer, I just understand that she is still recovering,

as well as I, and want to know how best to help her even more. Two souls stood together on a hill, appearing from the distance to be a single hole. two shadows overlooked the farmstead below them, hidden by the cover of darkness, lurking like predators in complete silence, ready to pounce on their prey. With a single torch to illuminate their surrounding held by one of the two shadows, hardly noticeable from afar. I'm not sure we should do this, Sayura. One shadow spoke to the other. The other side loudly, we must, Barseek, can't you remember what they've done to us? What they've done to you, the shadow exclaimed. I know but. I don't want to go back. I thought we were through with this, Barsik reasoned.

Sayura smirked her grin smirk, I might be, but you could never be through with this, with what you are. You are the one who told me that only the dead get to see the end of the war. Sire, he begged, but she cut him off. Listen, I hate to do this, but you're making me, and I only do this because I love you, now let me remind you what they've done, tearing open her shirt as she spoke. He attempted to look away, but she shouted at him not to avert his gaze from her exposed form. Don't you dare look away now.

That is what they've done to me, that is what they took from you, Barseek. She cried out, pointing at his artificial arm while he stood there, staring at her, helpless against the oncoming onslaught of memories. You're right, he conceded, and turned his gaze to the farmstead below. Something in him was beginning to snap, a part he had tried to bury deep inside his mind. Someone terrible he was trying to forget came to the forefront of his thoughts. And besides, you promised me we'd do this and you can't back out now, Sayura remarked while covering up again.

You're right again, her friend lamented, why do you have to be right all the time, Sayura, his voice shaking as he uttered these words. I hate just how right you are all the goddamn time, Sayura, he screamed at her, flames dancing in his eyes. Unstoppable hateful flames danced in Barsock's eyes as his face contorted into an expression of a vampiric demon on the verge of starvation-induced insanity. the change in her friend's demeanor, Sayura couldn't help but giggle like a little girl again. Because someone has to be, don't you think, she quipped, watching him race down the hill,

the torch in his hand. From the distance, he seemed to take the shape of a falling star. Before long, he vanished from sight altogether, disappearing into the dark some distance from the farmstead, but Sayura knew where to find her friend. She always knew where to find him, especially in this state. All she had to do was follow the screaming. Slowly descending the hill, she listened for the screaming, getting excited imagining the inhuman punishment Barseek was inflicting in her name upon those who had wronged her,

those who had wronged them. In her mind, for as long as she could remember, they were always like this, one soul split between two bodies. For her, it was always like this, ever since the day she met him when he was still a child soldier all those years ago. To her, they always were in forever will be a part of the same hole. The screaming got almost unbearably loud by the time she reached the farmstead. Barsik was taking his sweet time executing their revenge.

He made sure to grievously injure them to prolong their suffering. Sayura took great care not to take any care of any of the dying men lying on the ground as she made it a mission to step on every one of those in her path. Blood, guts, and severed limbs were cast about in an almost deliberate fashion. A bloody path paved with human waste by Barsik for his only friend to follow. By the time she finally reached him, he was covered in blood and engaged in a sword fight with an old man who was barely able to maintain his posture faced with a much younger opponent. The incessant pleas of the man's wife suffocated the room.

Sayura crouched in front of the woman and blue Barsica kiss. For a split moment, he turned his attention from his opponent to her and the old man's sword struck his face. It merely grazed the young warrior's face, almost more insulting than anything else. He shouldn't have done that, Sayyura quipped to the wailing woman who didn't even seem to notice her. Barely registering the pain, Barsik halted for a split second to take in a deep breath, pushing his blade straight through his opponent to a chorus of grieving garbled syllables.

I guess he didn't love you enough. Mother, Sayura scolded the weeping woman who in turn still seemed oblivious to her. And now he dies. With her words echoing across the room as if they were a signal or a command, Barsik cut off the man's head. the decapitated skull of her husband crash onto the floor, the woman fell with it, letting out an inhuman shriek, much to Sayura's twisted delight. Would you look at that, like daughter, like mother, she called out to her friend, who seemed

equally amused with the mayhem he had caused. Not satisfied with the carnage he had caused just yet, Barsoc turned his attention to the woman and stood over her with a ravenous gaze in his burning eyes. She begged for her life, but his heart remained stone cold. Cruel as he might have been, this devil was merciful than her. With a swift swing of his blade, he cut off her head, bringing the massacre to an abrupt end. Once the dust settled by sunrise, Barsik and Sayura were long gone, two shadows huddled as close as one. Almost like two souls in one body, they traveled unseen by foot to the one place where they both could find peace.

The gateway between the world of the living and the land of the pure. Once there, the shadow slowly crawled toward a grave at the foot of a frangipani tree. I told you, Sayura. I told you I'll lay their skulls at your feet, Barsic lamented while carefully placing two skulls at the foot of the grave containing his only friend. Part one, the chills, insignificant, unworthy. That is how the higher beings view man. We are but mere fools to try and compare ourselves to them, the same as they are to compare themselves to the gods of creation and punishment. To the gods they are mere troglodytes, just as we are like monkeys to higher beings. A huge chunk of mankind will never admire their grotesque beauty, so complex men.

most of man cannot physically comprehend their existence. They are thought of by some men as nothing but a myth, a legend, like the stories of the great gods of creation and punishment. All who have traveled through this realm or reside in it will know they truly exist when hearing such tales of higher beings and their atrocities. One tale known by all is the one of the mad Wolfgang van der Kroof, and when he dishonored his kind to ascend to the realm of the gods of creation and punishment and how he failed terribly and the lesson from it which Bundletrauss sprum. It does not take one a lot to understand what kind of God the great goat god of punishment and sin is, Bundletrauss sits on its grand, blood-drenched throne of pain and displeasure giving out

only punishment to those committing great atrocities. Bundletrauss does not praise those who are good or are morally correct, no, it only cares for punishing those who have done wrong in its lifeless eyes. A genuinely good deity in a sea of selfishness and pride. Wolfgang, being a higher being knew he was better than mankind, though disgusted by his own self, giving life to half-breed offspring, his kin being a level below higher beings but just above man to be different. Committing such atrocities like defiling and murder will no doubt aroused the suspicion of the likes of Bundletrauss or some other gods of punishment. Wolfgang being a higher being was a great display of indifference between them and man, displaying a god complex and mental

decay he was but a mere fool to compare himself to the likes of the great goat god Bundletraus. Wolfgang thought of Bundletrauss as keen to its siblings, but could not be any more wrong, Bundletrauss did not associate with the other gods as he viewed them as blasphemous and disgraced, for this reason and this reason only Bundletrauss is seen as a saint by most. Wolfgang had a misfortune disturbed mind akin to the murderers and psychopaths of mankind. Unloved by his predecessors and most of his fellow kind, his mind crumbled and he began to build upon his god complex seeing himself as a deity to mankind and his fellow higher beings due to the neglect from others caused by his own mental decay. To become a god Wolfgang's detreating mind made

him believe he had to commit great atrocities to please the gods, but Bundletrauss was the only god he seek to please viewing him better than the rest. And upon one rise of the sun and its sorrow that followed Wolfgang did get his wish, Bundletrauss called upon him, finally he could be like the gods, like Bundletrauss, he could finally be so much more. Upon being called by Bundletrauss, Wolfgang opened his foul eyes only to be presented with red, nothing but red. Crimson fields and mountains of red and vast pools of blood filled with the sorrow of man. Darting about Wolfgang's eyes lay rest on a mighty sight, there sat on his throne of blood-soaked steel sat bundle trouse in the flesh of its physical form with the torso of a man,

the legs and head of a goat and human eyes peering through its furry blood-stained face, staring at Wolfgang. Being judged by the only God he saw as great Wolfgang was struck with sudden surprise and dread to find out he was guilty of crimes against humanity and higher beings alike. He began to feel restless and uncomfortable in his revolting physical form, and because of this he started scratching and tearing at his skin peeling each pale and bloodied layer of skin off one by one. What was left was a pile of pale blue blood-covered flesh, it began to seep into the ground in a particularly fast manner, and once the red grass was dry of Wolfgang's

flesh, the liquid of one of the blood pools rippled and from it raised an embryo produced from the evil and madness of Wolfgang. Bundletrauss took the embryo and planted it in a pregnant woman swapping a human life for this new warning made to show humanity what remains of a creature who can commit such atrocities for nothing but personal gain. A lesson. Part 2 The Chills. When I was younger, my grandma would tell me stories about being cautious of the dream snatcher. I never believed her until last year. I had a dream of walking through a city covered in snow and thick sheets of ice. In the midst of it all, I saw him, only his eyes were visible, cold like the outside. Those eyes seemed to peer into my soul, freezing.

my heart, and I felt myself being pulled closer as everything around me started to warp. Then, I shot up from my bed, drenched in cold sweat. Thankfully, it was a reasonable time to wake up. I got up and started getting dressed for the day, but suddenly I felt chills running down my spine, as if someone had breathed on me or placed a hand on my back. I spun around and called out, who's there? Silence answered back. I brushed it off and finished getting ready, but when I grabbed my car keys, I noticed they

were cold despite being mid-July. I tried not to think much of it as I got into my car and drove to work. After parking, I went into the building and took the elevator up to my desk. When I arrived, my heart stopped, I found a piece of ice on my desk. I was unsure how to react. I remembered my grandma saying, if you find anything cold for no reason or ice, come to me. So, I turned around, took the elevator back down, and got into my car to drive to my grandma's house. As soon as I stepped inside, I felt an unusual warmth, even warmer than usual. My grandma looked at me with concern and said, he was in your dream today, wasn't he? Staring at her in disbelief, I finally managed to ask, him. Yes, she replied, the man with the

icy eyes. I stared at her, feeling a chill. Suddenly, she fell and shattered on the floor. I felt an icy hand on my shoulder, and when I turned around, I opened my eyes to find myself in a snow-covered place filled with buildings of ice. In the distance, I saw a man staring at me. P.S. feel free to comment and share your opinions. Part one I was an abuser. I grew up witnessing abuse and telling myself I would never allow myself to be abused by any man, ever. I didn't know it was possible for me to become the abuser. I'm five feet one inch 110 pounds, female, and my partner was more than twice my size. I used to scream and yell at him, throw things, damage property, and hit him. I was emotionally abusive and controlling. I always felt genuinely

remorseful afterwards, I felt horrible about myself, about what I did. I would apologize, cry, swear it would never happen again, and we'd make up. I meant it every time, but the cycle continued. He was a kind and gentle soul. He became fearful of me, he lost his self-confidence and his sense of self. Eventually we broke up, I sought therapy and he met someone who treats him well the way he deserves. Years later, we are both in a better place and on good terms now. Now my sister is married to an abusive man. They have kids together, there is no end in sight. We were both abused as kids. Abuse is a vicious cycle. Edit, changed, we are friends, too, we are on good terms now, for clarity. I reached out and apologized and he said he forgave me, this was years

after the relationship ended. Now we will occasionally comment on each other's FB posts, but it's not like I went to his wedding or anything. Part 2. My family always makes my birthday awful and I don't know what to do. I, 21F, am turning 22 in about a month and I am actually kind of dreading it. For the past five years I have either been ignored slash forgotten or made to cry on my birthday. Ever since I turned 16 my family hasn't really made any effort in doing things on my birthday with me or to celebrate my birthday in general. I also distinctly remember being entirely ignored on my 20th birthday, not a single call or text from any. of my immediate family members. For all of my birthdays, I would plan stuff for my entire

family, mom, dad, older sister, 24, younger brother, 20, to do that I thought would be fun, but they always come up with some excuse for not wanting to do it so we don't. I would even plan around everyone's schedules slash budgets to make sure everyone was available for the things I wanted to do, but they still would cancel on me. What really gets me is this, they go out of their way to celebrate everyone else's birthdays. My siblings always get to go to whatever restaurant they want to go to as well as do whatever activity they want to do for the day, and get a bunch of presents that they will actually enjoy in use. My parents always get to go out for date nights on their birthdays, and my siblings and I are always sure to get them odds and ends that we can

afford that we think they'll like too. But the effort is never made for me. All of my milestone birthdays, 16th, 18th, 21st, have been awful, and so have the other ones as well. Hell, my 18th birthday I got a Sudoku book, I don't even like Sudoku, and a $3 slice of cheesecake from the supermarket. I had to remind my mom about my 21st birthday for weeks leading up to it, and even on the day of and we still didn't do anything for it because all plans I brought up were shot down. I really just want one birthday where I can sit down at the end of the day and be happy with how the day went.

And TBH I've also kind of given up on thinking that'll happen anytime soon. I don't know why it is this way. I don't think I've done anything wrong. Even if I have, it still shouldn't be okay for this to be the norm. I think this year I'm just going to keep any plans I make under wraps and if they ask me about anything I'll tell them, but only if they ask. Update, my birthday went just about how I expected it to. I had the day off from work so I made plans to go to a tulip festival since they're my favorite

flowers. Got to see a bunch of pretty flowers and cute bumblebees. My parents had asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday and seemed interested in going to the festival with me, but on the day of decided that binge watching a show all day was more important. I invited friends to go with me to the festival and told them when I'd be leaving and that I'd be willing to pick them up if they didn't want to drive. They all said they'd drive themselves and meet me there. Spent two hours at the festival and none of them showed, and they didn't bother to text me that they couldn't make it either. Treated myself to

sushi on the way home, and when I got home I had a large glass of wine and watched pride and prejudice. Today I'm bringing you three true stories that happened on cold winter nights, when the snow covered more than just the landscape. The cabin in the snow, my family and I used to go up north to ice fish when I was younger. My parents had friends who owned some cabins in the middle of nowhere. There was a small gas station about a mile away, but after that, you wouldn't see anything for 20 or 30 minutes on the road. It started snowing, and I just wanted to settle in and play some games. The drive took about eight hours, and we arrived around 4 p.m. It was January, so the sun was already starting to set, and I was pretty tired. We arrived at the cabin's parking area and started

unloading. The cabins had smart locks, so you just had to put in a code and it gave you the key to unlock the door. I grabbed my backpack and suitcase, and when I went to enter the code, I noticed there were already footprints leading to the door. I mentioned it to my dad, and he said it was probably the cleaner or someone like that. I believed him and opened the door. Inside, I saw some water on the floor and figured it was from the cleaner. Other than that, everything seemed fine, just like I remembered. I went to my room, the one I always used, and started unpacking.

But when I went to close the blinds, I saw footprints again. They seemed to come from the woods and lead toward our house. Given the depth of the snow, they had to be recent. I told my dad, and he said he'd check it out. By the time we finished unloading everything, the snowfall had gone from a flurry to a snowstorm. My dad said that if someone had been there, they definitely weren't anymore, if they had any common sense.

He made spaghetti and we watched a movie. Then I went to sleep. I was woken up a few hours later by banging on the wall that seemed to be coming from outside my window. I tried to go back to sleep, but it happened a couple more times. At that point, I wasn't scared, just annoyed. I got up, looked out the window, and didn't see anything. The snow had lightened a bit, so it was easier to see. I noticed the same footprints again, almost in the same spot as before, coming from the woods. We went out to together to check the area and sure enough, there were human footprints coming from the woods to our cabin.

They went up to my bedroom window, then to the front door, and back to the woods. We'd been there before and knew there was nothing around for miles, and nobody camps in the woods, especially in winter. My dad called his friends to tell them what happened, but even so, there wasn't much anyone could do. A few hours later, they brought some small cameras you could plug in and view a live feed of the house. We installed them inside to feel safer. It was a hassle, but better safe than sorry. We went to the lake a few hours later, and my mom kept checking the cameras constantly to make sure no one was inside the cabin. When we got there, we left our phones in the car while we fished. When we returned, my mom had a bunch of notifications about

motion detected by the cameras. My dad immediately called his friend to check out the cabin or call the police. His friend stayed on the line while entering the house with some kind of weapon. After a few minutes of silence, he said no one was there. I know he should have waited for the police, but my dad's friends are a different kind of people. Anyway, he called the police and explained the situation. We didn't get video evidence because the cheap cameras only showed the live feed and didn't store recordings. We spent the following nights at my dad's friend's place but left the camera installed at the cabin. Sure enough, the day we were leaving, the camera detected movement again.

My dad and his friend ran to the cabin, but again, no one was inside. However, this time there were footprints leading from the woods to the cabin, the same ones I saw the first and second day. My dad thought about following the tracks, but my mom suggested he didn't. It's unsettling to think that someone might have been inside while we were sleeping, or watching us through the windows during the day. Luckily, nothing else ever happened. But it remains one of the creepiest experiences of my life.

The next times we went, we stayed in a different cabin and nothing happened. My dad's friend said they never found out what happened there. I guess the person stopped showing up after we left. Winter is my favorite season of the year. There's something about the feeling of falling snow and the holidays that always puts me in a good mood. However, I live in a pretty cold state, which means a lot of snow during the winter months. Working as a part-time door-dash driver for almost three years at the time, this made the job a lot harder. Roads took time to clear, and even when they were, heavy snow would quickly

cover them again. Although this made driving dangerous and sometimes even impossible, I still chose to drive on snowy days with covered roads. The reason was that no one else would be on the road, Other DoorDash drivers would probably stay home. That meant access to way more orders, and the chance to earn more money. Plus, customers tend to tip better since they know what it takes to deliver in a snowstorm. It was the same that year, and it was mid-December when a heavy snow night came. I couldn't start deliveries until 7 or 8 due to my other job, but as soon as I could, I started driving. As usual, very few cars were on the road, and my DoorDash app was given.

me high-paying delivery offers. I completed two relatively quick orders and was heading home from one when the snow worsened. Visibility was terrible, and the roads weren't being cleared frequently enough. My car wasn't junk, it had four-wheel drive and all-season tires, but this snow was really making me struggle. I slowed down until I reached a stop sign and could barely start moving again as my tires just slid on the snow. Finally, after crossing the intersection, Another order popped up on my phone. I looked at it for a second, debating whether to accept it, then declined and closed the app. The roads were too dangerous, even for me. The road I was on wasn't far from the main town, so my goal was to get as close as possible, hoping more plows

had cleared the roads. I drove slowly at 20 miles per hour on a 45 road while braving the conditions. I could barely make out something big in the middle of the road in front of me. I didn't see what it was until it was too late. I slammed on the brakes, and while I stopped in time, the rear wheel skidded and dragged the car off the road into a thick layer of snow. Fortunately, it was a low-speed crash and not severe, but it didn't help my situation. My car was completely stuck in the snow, and I knew I'd need assistance. I stayed calm and collected, turned on my hazard lights, and called for roadside help.

I gave the man my location, and he said it would take it. take 15 to 20 minutes to get to me. I thanked him. In the side mirror, it was hard to see, but I could make out a soft flashing orange light approaching. As it got closer and parked behind me, it looked like a typical work vehicle with warning lights on top. Looking at my phone, only four minutes had passed since I called, this guy showed up really early. But I wasn't going to complain about someone arriving early to pull me out of a ditch. After a few more minutes, the door closed behind me and saw a man walking toward my window. When he was a few feet away, I rolled it down a bit. He replied, yeah, I called a few minutes ago. Just need help getting back

on the road. All right, let me see what I can do for you, the man said. He walked around the back of the car and started inspecting it, presumably looking for a spot to hook something onto. I'd never done this before, but I always assumed they attach a winch to your car and pull you out. I had no idea where or how they hooked it up. The man stayed behind the car for a while as I watched through the rearview mirror. Then, a sudden rush of cold air hit me, he had opened the trunk. I looked back and saw him holding it halfway open while scanning the inside of my vehicle with his eyes. Sorry, he mumbled as he slammed the trunk shut again.

I didn't know how this process worked, but it was really weird for him to open the trunk like that. I couldn't think of any reason why he would need to. My suspicion started to grow, especially since the man seemed disoriented, and I started to piece things together quickly. I called roadside assistance again. A few rings passed while I waited nervously. When the same person answered, I felt like my stomach dropped. Hey, I'm almost there.

Need anything else, the man said. Just then, the guy came back to my window and said, he said, needed my keys and that I had to get out of the vehicle for a minute while he got things ready. I kept the phone close to my ear and, feeling uneasy, told him I needed a minute because I was on a call. He didn't respond, he just stood there watching me like he wanted to listen to my conversation. I tried not to panic with the man. Still next to my door, I rolled up the window. The man started banging on the glass, asking what I was doing in a somewhat aggressive tone. I then locked the doors, and as soon as he heard that, he tried to open my door and began

yelling at me. I was terrified, knowing I couldn't go anywhere. While this was happening, I heard another door close on the truck behind me and saw another man running toward my car with something in his hand. Then, an extremely loud horn blared behind us, followed by bright lights illuminating my car. The two men ran back to their truck and quickly left, revealing that it was actually the roadside assistance truck. Two men got out and came over to make sure I was okay. Apparently, I had left the call on, and they had heard what was happening, so they rushed over to help me. After notifying the police, I found out that there had been several cases very similar to mine on heavy snow days. Supposedly, the men drive around looking for stranded people,

then rob their cars and assault them while pretending to be roadside assistants. I have no doubt they were the ones who put that large object in the road that made me swerve and skid off the road. I was lucky that the events played out the way they did, and I don't think I'll ever drive in bad conditions again. One night for the delivery driver, I was a regular pizza delivery driver for Domino's in high school. I also worked part-time at a Jimmy John's on weekends, but that was just a side job. Anyway, I wanted to make that clear so you'd know I wasn't just some random guy making his first delivery, I was pretty familiar with food delivery, and what happened that night wasn't normal at all.

90% of the time, I didn't take phone calls. Normally, someone at the restaurant would take the orders and prepare the pizza. I just picked it up and left. This time wasn't any different. I had just finished a previous order and ran into the store to pick up the next one. When I picked it up, my co-worker told me to make sure the customer paid. It was an obvious statement, so it seemed odd that he felt the need to say it. I was out on the snowy roads, so I just replied, yeah, as I walked out.

I got in the car and got settled. I thought a little more about what he had said and wondered why he mentioned it. I concluded that it was probably just an honest guy who wanted a discount. I started the trip, if I remember correctly, the place was only about ten minutes from the store. I should mention that it was almost 10 at night, so the streets were mostly empty. But as soon as I left the parking lot, I noticed a car speeding up behind me. It got very close, then slowed down and started matching my speed. I couldn't see what kind of car it was, but it's not unusual for people around here to drive

fast at night when there's no one else on the road. That said, it was snowing heavily, so speeding probably wasn't the best idea. I kept driving at my pace, hoping the guy would just pass me or turn off somewhere. But he stayed behind me. It wasn't until we got to a traffic light that the guy pulled into the lane next to mine. I always stare forward at stoplights to avoid awkward eye contact, but suddenly someone started shouting from the car next to me. I looked to the side and saw a man staring at me with the window down.

I quickly looked away and stared forward again, but the guy kept shouting, asking me to roll down the window. I pretended not to hear him and started fiddling with the pizza bag like I was looking for something. I kept the light in the corner of my eye and, as soon as it turned green, I sped off quickly. The man didn't stop. He kept driving next to me, swerving all over the road. His window was still down, and I could see he was constantly trying to look at me to get my attention. The man looked angry, so I had no intention of stopping to talk to him.

But he was really bothering me. I wasn't scared, just annoyed. I wanted to take a side street or something to try to lose him, but the snow made me doubt whether those roads had been cleared. I didn't want to get stuck in the snow with this crazy guy around. So I decided to stay on the main road. I was just one or two minutes from the customer's house when the guy next to me sped up and suddenly swerved into my lane right in front of me.

I hit the brakes, but I only managed to slow. down a little before my car began to skid. Fortunately for me, the other guy had the same problem, his car kept sliding until it went off the road into deep snow. His car nearly spun 180 degrees. My adrenaline had me shaking as I slowly drove down the road, watching my mirrors. The guy's car had spun a little more, giving me enough room to put some distance between us. I didn't think he'd be able to get out of there for a while. I felt bad for leaving. him like that, but he clearly had bad intentions, and I wasn't going to stick around to find out what they were. I arrived at the customer's house and walked up to the door, knocking several

times. After a minute with no answer, I called my manager, who called me back to let them know I was there. I kept knocking and ringing the doorbell, but my manager called again to say they weren't answering. I stood there confused, looking at the lights on inside the house, and started piecing things together. I ran back to my car and drove out of the neighborhood, taking a different route back to the store just to make sure I avoided that car. Then I told my manager what had happened. I think the customer was the guy in the car. My manager said the guy had given him a bad vibe on the phone, which made him think he wasn't going to pay. I think the guy's plan was to follow me from the store, then make me stop so he could rob me, whether of the pizza, my wallet, or both.

made sense that the guy wasn't home, he had gotten stuck in the snow. I don't know for sure, I could be overthinking it, but my manager agreed with my theory. He said he'd report it to the police and give them the guy's number and address, though he never updated me about it, so I don't know if he actually did. But as far as I know, that guy never called the store again. Winter can be beautiful, but we always have to stay alert. These stories remind us that even in the calm of winter, danger can be lurking. The End

Part 1 The Story of Will and Harper. I just watched this documentary on Netflix called Will and Harper about the friendship of Will Ferrell and his friend and former writer for Saturday Night Live, the former Andrew Steele, now Harper, who is transitioning to be a female. It was an inside, real look into the questions people want to ask about someone who is transitioning. Many times we want to ask but are afraid to. This documentary was about a lifetime friendship that even though it was the same, was now very different. Will wanted to make this documentary because he knew that Harper always loved to

travel the country, he loved going to dive bars, just meeting and interacting with different people. But as a woman, especially a trans woman, that was now a different world. So the two decided to do a road trip to see how different it would be and document it. It is funny to see a person who grew up as a man and who didn't think of their safety or how women were treated, now can see how it feels to be a woman and what we go through daily. They now understand our fears and what we have always had to deal with. It also shows, sadly, how horrible people are. How they said and tweeted terrible things about Harper and Will, just because he was friends with her. It showed us how words can hurt and just how cruel people can be to someone different. This was an

honest and enlightening story of what it is like to always feel like you were born into the wrong body, your entire life. To have to live a lie your whole life and then to finally have the courage to come out to who you truly are. Even as scary as it is, even when you know that people want you dead. Even though some people you love will disown you. Even as they call you names and have no compassion for you as a human being. You are still brave enough to stand in your truth. That is courage. So today, my friends, I have to say that it saddens me that people can't live and let live. Sometimes we are afraid of the unknown, and this documentary showed us what it is like to walk in someone else's shoes. It answered questions and allowed us to know someone

who is different from us. I don't understand why we can't let people do what they want to do with their lives. It's none of your business, it's not your life. The one amazing lesson that I got from this documentary is that Harper was still Will's friend. Nothing in their friendship changed except her sexual orientation. And like one of my favorite influencers, Joey Swole says all the time, mind your business, we need to do better, and we all need a friend like well who will love us no matter what, and who will continue to be our friend and try to better understand what you may be going through. That my friends are the meaning of true friendships. Be the change you want to see, part two my blood donation horror story, T.W. Blood and

Needles. Love, TLDR, Nurse stuck a needle in my muscle instead of my vein, and I almost passed out because I was a dumbass and didn't eat beforehand. Let me tell you my tale of from last Wednesday. I drove all the way to my nearest blood donation center to donate some of my troll blood. I walk in and wait five minutes for someone to notice me, because I am shy and don't like to make myself present. I get temperature checked, I'm good. I get screened and they check my BP and hemoglobin count, all good. The nurse, let's call him, see, asks which arm I use normally for donations, I say my left arm, it has the most easily accessible veins, and it doesn't interfere with my art stuff. And he leads me to the big room full of chairs and different machines

for various types of blood donation. I get to the chair and C puts the cleaning stuff on my arm, and I'm just doing my thing and breathe. See starts to prep the needle after putting the BP cuff on my arm and I start squeezing the little squeeze ball to get my blood pumping in my veins more visible. See drops the needle and bag, picks it up and he fucking doesn't get a new one. C marks my arm with a purple pen and the first thing I notice is that it isn't anywhere near where I usually get it poked, I don't think anything of it because it might just be a new spot. C inserts the needle and I'm thinking, fuck, this hurts more than usual, and he kind of makes an odd face, which worries me. He calls over this nice lady who has very nice vibes,

she's got bride of Frankenstein hair and a skeleton necklace, like I said, very nice vibes. We'll call her Q. Q makes a face that also worries me, it prompts me to ask what's wrong. Q says something about how C put the needle in a little off, she tries to comment. She tries to me with a compliment, you're in pretty good shape, your muscles were kinda in the way of the needle. See, stuck the needle in my muscle instead of my vein. I'm like, oh, okay. That's cool, and Q's like, I'm going to have to reposition the needle sweetheart. I nod and she pulls the needle almost all the way out, and wiggles it to find the vein, then after a couple of excruciating seconds she gets it. See leaves Q to watch over me and to talk to me, I'm like, good he's a

bitch anyways. Q starts talking about gay stuff to me, which made me happy. that she recognized that I'm one of them. She tells me stories about her relatives coming out and the different reactions. I'm nodding and adding my peace every once in a while. I start to feel lightheaded, which I'm used to because I experience lightheadedness every time I donate, but this time it felt different.

I ask Q for a cold rag for my forehead because I felt a little lightheaded. She is like, oh, of course, sweetie. And she rushes to get some rags and puts them on my forehead and neck. I start feeling worse and worse and my face contorts to really painful expressions and Q is like, Are you okay? What have you eaten today? And I meekly responded with, I ate a cheeseburger a couple of hours ago.

Q asks if that's all I've eaten today to which I respond with, Yeah, I take Vivens and it makes my appetite really low, and Q freaks out and is like you gotta eat. And I'm like, yeah, I'm a dumb ass. They shove juice boxes in my face and I drink about three to four boxes. It's yummy but very hard to drink because I'm about to pass out. All of a sudden my hands, feet, calves, and abdomen become really tingely, not like just pins and needles but really, really tingly.

They feel like they're shaking, but they're not. My joints lock up and I can't move my hands or fingers. I kind of freak out and I'm like, hey, I can't feel anything but the pain in my arm R.N. Q is trying to encourage me to finish the bag, which makes sense to me. It's only got a couple of ML left. I try hard to fight through it but the pain is so horrible I had to get them. to stop at just a little left. I felt terrible because I couldn't fill the bag, but I still was in horrifying pain. My hands were the last to regain feelings after about ten minutes

of sitting there, my hands couldn't close and they felt like when your foot's asleep and you try to wiggle your toes and you can't but you see them. It was terrible. When I got off of the chair, my entire ass and back were covered in sweat, it was disgusting. Anyways, Q thanks me for trying to donate, and rushes me to the snack table and tells me to eat. I do an after another ten minutes I feel good and I leave after saying goodbye and drive home. Long story short, my arm is bruised and ugly green and still hurts like hell, for days later, but... This is my first post in this sub, so please be nice.

I might not have the formatting down to A.T., but I tried my best. Love, Part 1-1 little psychological horror story. Oh, my head hurts. Where am I? What is going on? When I look around me. Is it? some small subway station

yes it is but what am I doing here why isn't there anybody and oh no I'm running to it and yes the exit is in fact walled I'm scared start to punch in that wall but surprisingly nothing happens

okay keep your head still look around you but the only thing I can see is a light bulb slowly drifting from one side to the other doing that annoying noise but there is no wind how can it be moving and that noise it's driving me crazy no keep rational thinking there is just one way i can go no exit two of the tracks walled as well there are two options left or right left or right there is black darkness in both of them i'm scared what do i do i go in the left one No, I can hear something and run headlessly back.

Okay, just breathe. Now I'm going in right one. Everything seems good so far. Couple steps, couple more with a hand on the wall. I look back and can see just the faintiest light. No. I can't go back, I must keep on going forward. Breathe, one step, then another one.

Good, everything is fine. Don't think about anything, just do one more step. And one more Good I'm falling I've stumbled over something No I don't look at that thing It's not alive and that's all you need to know

God, did I hear something No It's just my brain making up things that are not real Breathe, you can do it More steps Good, your legs are somewhat sure now You can keep walking Why is my breathing starting to go faster

Why is that dark so dark What is that? No. It's nothing. Now I heard something. It's right behind me. No, it's next to me. No.

Is it in front of me? What is that? It. Yes, it's me. What am I doing? Am I screaming? It do seems like that. Yes, it was me.

Now you know that you can calm down. My heart rate is returning to normal. I can go on now. One step. Then another. Yes, you're doing great. Now continue. It cannot be much further away.

You can do it. You can do everything after all. Think about something positive. But about what? I can't think about anything. Wait a second. Who am I? What is my name?

I, I can't remember. I stop. What is going on? How? Did I get here? And, how, is it possible I don't even know my name? What was that? Oh, I heard it.

It's here, right behind me. Now I'm running. Running for my life. No matter what is in front of me, the only thing that matters is what's behind me. I can't hear it over my own heavy breathing, but I know it's here. It's omnipresent. It's my demon. I'm trying to get from it, but it's still closer and closer.

I can sense it. I'm running faster than anybody else had ever ran, I'm flying. But that thing is still behind me. I just know it. If I stop I die. That's the rules. I know them as well as it knows it. What's that?

I see something. Is it? Some light? No. I must be hallucinating. Now it's gone. But I'm still running, as fast as I possibly can. Yes.

It is light. in front of me even though it is not possible now I'm running even faster I can see that blissful glow I can feel it I can smell it I can hear it I'm almost there

what no I fell I must get up that thing is getting closer and closer every second but I can't I can see that shine but I look back and there it is

the darkness the pure evil darkness and the demon shining red eyes hunting eyes hungry eyes now it's end i know it i can't fight back i simply can't yes it's moving closer i turn my head towards that glow towards heaven but deep down i know what's coming for me hell nothing more nothing less the hell i wake up screaming what was that It was So real I can still see it all

I can still hear it all I can still feel it all I can still smell it all It's here with me as well I know it It was a dream But it was also a reality I stand up and go open that window

I need fresh air I need some fresh air to get myself together Okay it was nothing I'm good Yes now with the air floating around me I feel just fine. And now what? Should I go back to sleep? Yes, I should, just a couple more seconds in this chill fresh air. In this fresh air. And now? What? Back to sleep. Yes. I make that step. But what? It is not towards the bed. I want to go to bed. Another step. Wait a second.

Where am I going? Why am I climbing in the window? What? And now another step. And nothing else, there is nowhere to make another step. There will be no more steps for me anymore. No more of anything. Good by world. Demon, I might see you again. I might see you very soon. Part two my husband refuses to stop my mother-in-law from hitting our baby so I am here to tell him our marriage is over. Posted by you slash hot flan, 8325. Hi, Stefan. Maybe you'll finally listen. And if you're wondering, if you can just speed home and stop me from doing this and leaving, it's too late. I'm sending you this, after I've already loaded everything into the car

and left. Don't worry. I spoke with our landlords and took my name off the lease. I've set up a direct deposit for next month's rent. After that, you're on your own, buddy. I guess you're wondering why, I'm guessing you'll act like you're completely blindsided, right? Because you've done absolutely nothing wrong. And you're a great husband and father to be, aren't you? Well, buddy, let me break it down for you in a language you understand. I, 29F, have been married to my husband 35M, for five years, and we've been together for nearly 10. On paper, everything seemed fine, but in reality, our marriage has been anything but. And I've reached my breaking point. From the beginning, my mother-in-law has been a nightmare. She made everything about her from day one. At our wedding,

she wore white, claiming it was a family tradition. It wasn't. She constantly criticizes me, for my cooking to my appearance. I'll never forget the time she called me fat, at a family gathering, right in front of everyone. And what did my husband do? Nothing. Not a single word to defend me. It didn't stop there. She has accidentally destroyed my belongings, including my grandmother's necklace, which she threw out because it looked like cheap costume jewelry. She's gone out of her way to make me feel small, and unwelcome in my own home. But every time I tried to talk to my husband about it, he'd brush it off, saying I was overreacting or being too emotional. And then there's my husband. He's always on Reddit, constantly giving strangers

relationship advice, which is laughable considering how he treats me. He spends more time rating women's boobs on Reddit than talking to me. Literally. And just so you know, the last pair he rated weren't a four out of ten. They were a ten out of ten. Yeah, he's got plenty of time to do that, but can't be bothered to remember anything about my life. He'll forget my birthday, our anniversary, even simple things like what I'm working on or what's important to me. But he has a perfect memory for his work schedule, and things that matter to him. When we fight, he becomes incredibly hostile, and always throws in a sarcastic buddy at the end

of his sentences, like I'm some acquaintance he can barely tolerate. And he never cleans the house, the dishes, laundry, you name it, it's all on me. It's like he thinks being an adult is optional, as long as he's got his job and his Reddit account. The final straw came a few weeks ago. I'm five months pregnant with our first child, a daughter. My mother-in-law started making comments about how she'll have to whip the girl into shape, and how she'll raise her to be tough because I'm too soft. When I told my husband that I didn't want his mother to have too much influence on our daughter,

especially with the way she treats me, he just laughed it off, saying his mother means well and that I was overthinking it. But the moment that truly broke me was when we were talking about future child care, and my husband suggested that his mother should watch our daughter while we work. I told him I wasn't comfortable with that, especially considering how his mother treats me, and he snapped. He called me paranoid and said I should get over it, because his mother was going to be a big part of our daughter's life, whether I liked it or not. This is the same woman who believes corporal punishment is okay. I've seen her hit my husband's nephew for the smallest things, and no one does anything about it. It's like they're all living in some kind of cult.

And I'm finally waking up to the reality of what's going on. If he wouldn't stand up for me, how could I expect him to stand up for our child? I started to fear, what kind of environment our daughter would grow up in. A place where she might be belittled or bullied by her own grandmother. With a father who wouldn't do anything to stop it. Oh, and did I mention that he missed our first ultrasound? His mother needed him to help her with something urgent. It turned out to be fixing her Wi-Fi.

Wi-Fi He chose that overseeing our daughter for the first time That told me everything I needed to know About where I stand in his life So I packed up and left I'm done living like this Oh, and in case you're wondering

I've already contacted a lawyer You can't scare me into complying anymore Because I have all those texts You know exactly which ones I'm talking about So, Stefan, I wish you all the best in your future marriage with your mother and the women of Reddit, whose bibs you don't even deserve. Update two days later.

Some people on Reddit have been pretending to know me, and spreading false claims. They've said I'm a deadbeat who doesn't work, and that Stefan has two jobs to support me. They even fabricated a story about a neighbor, who supposedly is a good friend of ours, saying I've been sleeping around, and moving in with the guys I supposedly had affairs with. None of this is true. We don't live in South Carolina or the UK, and we're not friends with everything. of our neighbors. I have never cheated on Stefan, and I work and make slightly more than him. Just a dollar an hour difference. I suspect these claims might be from trolls brigading,

or Stefan's friends trying to make me regret posting about this. I am safe and staying with family, which is all I'm going to say for now. I'm working with my lawyer to ensure our safety, and that's all I can disclose at this time. For women who find themselves in my situation and are dealing with, Elise, consult with a pro bono lawyer who specializes in rental rights. That's what I did. They can give you advice specific to your country or region. In my case, I was able to move out, because Stefan and I had both signed a lease contract, and had completed the minimum rental period. After my free consultation, I worked with my landlords, who are a lovely older couple, to arrange my departure. So don't be scared.

Or, I mean, you can be scared, but there are things you can do to protect yourself. Also, make sure to run a credit check on yourself. I did, and it's another issue I'm addressing. As for recent developments, there hasn't been much new. Stefan is clearly desperate. He and my mother-in-law have both had meltdowns, and launched separate smear campaigns. My mother-in-law has spread false claims, including that I'm an unfit mother, and that I've been abandoning my responsibilities. I don't plan to answer these claims publicly. I'm collecting all evidence I have, especially since she has nothing to back up her accusations. But I have everything to back up mine. So, no, Stefan, this is not going to be

a he said, she said situation. He deleted his Reddit account, claiming it was because one person found him, but then he told me a bunch of people sent him Unalib threats, which seems impossible and contradictory. He did send his friends to my post, and I think they sent me some unsavory DMs and comments. Allegedly, when I tried to talk to Stefan, he always made me feel like I was going crazy. Whenever I raise concerns or expressed feelings, he would dismiss them, belittle my emotions, and make me second-guess myself. For instance, I come home to find that he had invited people over, without informing me in advance. When I brought it up, he'd insist that he had mentioned it earlier, even though I knew he hadn't. Another time, I planned a special

meal and asked him for a specific dish, but he claimed I had requested something completely different. When I reminded him of what I had actually asked for, he'd argue that I must have forgotten my own request. Stefan would also insist he had completed tasks, that I had actually done myself. For example, he would claim he had handled a household chore, when I was the one who actually took care of it. When I pointed this out, he dismissed my recollection and insist that he had done it. Even in conversations about our relationship, Stefan would frequently deny things he had said or done. If I brought up issues I had with his mother's behavior, He claimed, you never mentioned that before.

You're just being overdramatic. This made me question, whether I had ever truly discussed these problems, or if I was indeed overreacting. At one point, I was so convinced that I had early onset dementia or schizophrenia, that I started to question my own sanity. I felt lost and confused, struggling to distinguish between reality and his version of events. I began to document our interactions, just to keep track of what was actually happening. But Stefan would always find a way to twist things, saying, you must be misremembering, even though I had clear evidence to the contrary.

So I knew that sharing my story online was the only way to present my truth, in a manner he couldn't manipulate. I wanted to ensure that there was a clear, and unchangeable record of what had happened. Posting about my experiences was a crucial step in reclaiming my voice, and finding support from others who might understand my situation. It was a way to take control of my narrative, after feeling so lost. and doubting myself for so long. Thank you all for taking your time to read this and supporting me. All right, so picture this. You're drowning in deadlines, stuck in traffic,

or just trying to make it through a long-ass day without punching a wall. What saves your sanity? Not therapy, not a vacation, who can afford that, but a pair of rake and everyday earbuds. No joke. These little lifesavers are like a personal mute button for the world, and trust me, the world needs muting. Now before you go thinking this is just another tech ad, hold up.

This is more than earbuds. This is survival gear. Imagine having dead souls, or metaphorically, just endless anxiety, mental noise, or that internal voice telling you you're messing up, screaming in your ears 24-7. You need something powerful to shut that chaos down. Raken earbuds. Boom. Silence like a padded room.

First off, active noise cancellation. I'm talking about that sweet, sweet bliss where you don't hear Karen yelling at the barista or your neighbor blasting polka music at 2 a.m. Add in a battery life that clocks in at 32 freaking powers, and you've got uninterrupted auditory freedom. I've powered through workouts, late-night cram sessions, and aimless strolls in the park where I pretend I'm in a music video, all thanks to these little guys. And don't even get me started on the fit.

You ever try earbuds that feel like they were made for some alien species? Not these. Rakin designed their gel tips to fit actual human ears, like yours, mine, and even Uncle Larry's lopsided ones. Comfortable as hell. They stay in during jumping jacks, angry pacing, or even lying in bed questioning your life choices. I know what you're thinking, you sound like one of those YouTube narrators pushing. tech. And you're right. I kind of am. But I wasn't always this guy. My life before YouTube. Wildly different. Let's just say, things weren't exactly peaceful. In fact, my past

still taps me on the shoulder from time to time, reminding me of old regrets. But for the past four years, these earbuds have helped keep me grounded. Or at least, muffled enough to cope. I've got the carbon black model, yeah, it looks sleek as hell. It comes with a concrete texture protective case that gives off serious rugged vibes. I'm a hardcore Raiders fan, and something about that combo just clicks with me. Black, gray, a little gritty, kind of like life but in audio form. Oh, and they support wireless charging. Game changer.

The capsule charges the earbuds up to three times before you need to plug it in a game game. And look, I forget to charge my phone like, all the time. So the fact that I don't have to babysit these things constantly. Huge win. Now if you've made it this far and you're like, okay, but what's in it for me? Let me hit you with this. You can get up to 20% off Raken's entire site right now. Not 15%, not some sketchy coupon code that doesn't work, actual 20% off.

Just hit up by Rakin.com slash S522. That's where the magic happens. Massive shout out to Rakin for supporting creators who aren't afraid to share some weird, sometimes scary, always real stories. Like the one I'm about to get into. Because believe me, I've seen things. And not all of them were on a screen. So, let me tell you about the creepiest neighbor I've ever had. This isn't your typical, loud music at 3 a.m. Nightmare.

This is some next-level horror story that started when my wife and I moved into this place in Farmington, New Mexico. It was February 2020. You know, right before the world went sideways. My wife and I snagged the ground floor apartment. Looked normal enough, clean, decent neighborhood. Felt like we could finally relax after bouncing from one state to another every two years. thanks to our travel-heavy jobs. A few days in, we met the folks next door. Olivia and Umberto married couple with two young daughters. Nice enough people at first.

Smiles, waves, small talk in the hallway. But I had a weird vibe about Umberto right from the get-go. Something about the way he stared too long, like he was trying to read your mind, or maybe rewrite it. March rolls around, and so do the lockdowns. Everything shuts down. Everyone's on edge. And that's when Umberto starts to snap. At first, it was shouting. Nothing too crazy, just the kind of angry yelling you do when the Wi-Fi goes out.

But soon it got worse. Louder. More frequent. We'd hear him screaming through the walls. Not just arguments, full-blown rants like he was battling ghosts or demons. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. We were all losing it a little bit. No friends, no family visits, stuck inside all day.

But this guy, he wasn't just losing it. He was unraveling. Then in April, Olivia texted my wife, said they were heading to her mom's place across the state for a while and asked us to keep an eye on their apartment. We were like, hell yes. Maybe we'd finally get some peace and quiet. And for a few months, we did. They came back in October. But the quiet didn't.

If anything, things got worse. Bumberto started acting strange, like, more strange. One night around 3 a.m., there's pounding on our door. Not just knocking, pounding like someone trying to break in. I grabbed my handgun from the closet. My wife was half asleep but whispered, be careful. I told her not to worry and made my way to the door. Looked through the peephole, yep, it was him.

Opened the door a crack. Umberto, what the hell are you doing? He says, I think you left your wallet outside my door. Now listen, I know exactly where my wallet is every night. It lives on my dresser. No chance it was anywhere near his apartment. are you on something right now? I asked. His voice was shaky, weird. I didn't like it. To make a point, I suddenly showed him the gun I had at my side. Didn't raise it. Just let him see it. And man,

the way he backed up while never breaking eye contact. Chilling. Like he was mentally calculating how fast he'd have to move if he wanted to take me down. I got the message loud and clear. I got the message loud and clear. If I wasn't armed, things might have ended way differently. Go back inside, I said. Don't come knocking again, he nodded. Walked backward into his apartment. Door shut. I locked hours and didn't sleep the rest of the night.

Just lay there, listening. Imagining all kinds of creepy scenarios, him sneaking in through a vent, crawling across the ceiling like some horror movie monster. I knew it was my mind messing with me. me. But still, I was officially spooked. That's just a snippet of what's coming. The rest? Gets darker. More dangerous. And you'll want those rake and earbuds by your side when the real nightmare begins. To be continued. I've seen some wild stuff in my life, but nothing quite like what happened with Umberto. It's one of those memories that sticks to your brain like gum on a hot sidewalk.

I still remember Olivia, Umberto's sister, or maybe girlfriend, I never really figured that out, screaming her lungs out. She was begging, flat out begging, for the guy to give up. Please don't shoot him. He's got serious mental problems, she cried. She wasn't even talking to the cops like they were people anymore, just pleading to the universe. The police were trying to reason with him, no doubt about that. They stood outside his place for what felt like hours. They kept saying stuff like, come on, Umberto, we just want to talk, and, nobody wants to hurt you. But he wasn't having it. He was holed up in his apartment, doors locked, windows covered, like he was preparing for some apocalyptic last stand. At one point, the dude actually

smashed a window, just full on shattered it, and started yelling some gibberish at the cops. I couldn't make most of it out, but it didn't sound good. It sounded. It sounded. sounded desperate. Angry. Like the words of someone with nothing left to lose. And then, just when we thought it couldn't get any more insane, the guy throws a Molotov cocktail. Yeah, a Molotov. Who even knows how to make one of those anymore? But it flopped, literally. The rag fell out mid-air, and the bottle just hit the ground like a sad little soda bottle. You'd think that would stop him, right? But nope. A few moments later, he pops back into the doorway, another one in hand. That's when the cops opened fire. Hit him right in the stomach. You'd think that would drop a man instantly. But not Umberto.

He still managed to throw that bottle. It bounced off a cruiser like a tennis ball and rolled off into the gutter. Thank God it didn't explode. Soon after that, the cops swarmed the place and dragged him out. They had to wait for an ambulance to haul him off. Amazingly, no one else got hurt, which, considering the level of crazy happening, was a miracle. My wife and I didn't stick around. As soon as we finished giving our statements, we packed our bags and checked into a cheap motel

across town. No way were we sleeping under the same roof where all that just went down. Not even one more night. We had to go back to the police station a few days later. to give more detailed info about what led up to the whole incident. And man, the story was long. Let me backtrack. Months before that crazy day, Umberto had already started spiraling.

He actually broke into our apartment one night. Just kicked in the door like it was a western movie, waved a gun around, and screamed all kinds of things. Threatened us. My wife got the worst of it, he grabbed her, shoved her, said things that made my my skin crawl." And after the police came, instead of backing down, he got even more aggressive. That was the first time he used a Molotov.

Threw it at a patrol car. Same result, it didn't go off. Needless to say, he was racking up felonies like it was a game. Threats. Assault. Attempted arson. Illegal possession of weapons. Mental instability on top of it all.

We moved out two weeks later. Just couldn't handle it anymore. Even with Umberto gone, the apartment felt haunted by that night. Every sound made us jump. Every shadow in the hallway made our hearts race. We had to start fresh somewhere else. If I had to guess where Umberto is now, I'd say he's probably institutionalized. Either in some high-security psych ward or doing time behind bars.

I hated him for what he put us through. Despised him, even. But with time, that hate started to shift. Not to sympathy exactly, but maybe understanding. The guy needed help. Bad. I hope he's getting it now. I really do.

Turns out, the dude had poured gasoline on himself at one point during the standoff. No one saw it happen, but the fire department confirmed it later. The Farmington cops also found more homemade explosives in his apartment. Just think about that. The guy was ready for war. There's an article floating around that talks about the whole thing in more detail. I'll link it if anyone's curious, but honestly, living through it once was enough for me. You know what's messed up.

Even before Umberto's meltdown, my life had already taken a weird turn. Rewind to early 2019. I was 21 and working at a car wash in Flagler County, Florida. The place wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills. My boss was a bit of a jerk, but the job was decent enough. Most of my co-workers were chill, until Nicholas showed up. Nick was 25, new to the job, and at first seemed normal. Friendly, even.

We exchanged Instagrams, chatted at work. Just normal co-workers. or stuff. But then, around March, things started getting, off. He got real handsy. Not in an overt way at first, little touches here and there. Always followed by a, sorry, accident. But it wasn't. You know when someone crosses a line. And he did. Repeatedly. He'd message me constantly, asking me out. I said no. Many times. But he didn't stop. Just kept pushing. Like he thought persistence was attractive. I started dreading going to work. I'd feel my heart race whenever he was near. I tried telling my manager, but he just shrugged it off. Said I needed to handle my own

problems. Like this was middle school and not a serious harassment issue. Then came the poems. Yeah, poems. Weird, creepy ones. Full of bizarre metaphors about flesh and fate. I tried ignoring him. That only made it worse. One night, I got out of the shower, bathrobe on, window shades open.

I caught movement outside. At first, I thought it was a raccoon or something. But no. It was Nick. On his bike. staring. He saw me see him, then peddled off like a maniac. I freaked. I never told him where I lived. Never invited him over. He must have stalked me, figured it out from photos I posted or something. That was it. I blocked him on everything, Instagram, Snapchat, The Works. I emailed my boss, told him I was done, and explained exactly why. Of course, no response. But blocking Nick didn't stop him. He started making fake accounts. Messaging me from sock puppets. Hey, it's me, just want to talk. Why are you ghosting me? Over and over. Every day,

new accounts. New messages. I finally just disabled all my social media. Then came the scariest day of my life. I was walking my dog around noon when I spotted Nick. On his bike. Heading straight for me. I turned back, heart pounding, and rushed home. Got inside. Let the dog in. He was on my porch seconds later. Nick, what the hell are you doing here? I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're ignoring me. If you don't have a good reason, there's going to be problems. I tried playing it cool. told him I was just taking a break from social media he relaxed a little then started telling me all this disturbing stuff said he had mental issues

that he was experimenting with cannibalism to repair his muscles like what I made up a lie told him my dad was home and had a gun that finally made him back off as soon as I shut the door I called 911 he stuck around for a bit, knocked a few times, then left. The cops showed up, I gave them everything. They tracked him down and gave him a trespass warning. He denied everything, but I think they knew he was full of it. Next day, a patrol cop spotted him again, heading toward my house.

This time they arrested him. At the station, he admitted to some truly terrifying stuff. Said he'd been collecting my photos, analyzing the backgrounds to fit. figure out where I lived. Said he'd been to my house multiple times. And that cannibalism thing? He claimed it was part of a diet plan. That's when I realized, this guy was seriously disturbed. The cops encouraged me to press charges. Turns out, Nick had a rap sheet. He was already on probation. Now he was facing burglary, stalking, and probably more. He was convicted, though I heard he's appealing it. Got fired from the car wash too, after other women came forward with similar stories. So yeah. I've had enough true crime in my own life to last a lifetime. Lock your doors.

Trust your gut. And don't ignore the red flags. There's always a reason to be afraid. The end. Part 1. It's been 15 years. Short horror story, I woke up in the same bed as always, the room was still pitch black, I looked at the clock that was sitting next to me, it was 3 a.m. The only visible thing was the faint light coming from the corridor outside the bedroom. So he's awake. Or has he even gone to sleep in the first place? I thought to myself. It doesn't matter, as long as I ignore him I still have the chance to fall back asleep and end this night, I tried to foolishly convince myself, Depp Sight knowing that from the moment I woke up, he was aware of that. I could hear his footsteps outside the bedroom, a cold drop of

sweat run down my forehead. I tried to close my eyes and force myself to dream again, but it was already too late. The footsteps kept getting loonder and loonder, with each sound my heart rate sped up, to the point where I could barely breath. Everything around me started to get blurry. The footsteps stopped right outside the bedroom door. Now there was only silence. It felt like the time itself was frozen in place. That feeling didn't last long. Slowly, the door handle started to turn, a dreadful chill ran down my spine, as the air around me got cold, the door gradually let more and more light come into the room. Behind the door stood a familiar dark figure. As the figure approached me all I could do was blankly stare into its black, emotionless eyes.

I tried my hardest to say something, but my though-art felt like it was on fire, tears started running down my cheeks, he's here. As he sat next to me on the bed, all I could utter was, John, I want a divorce. Devorve? Ha-ha, said John. Part 2 Sleep Tight. Christmas horror story, I had just left a fresh glass of milk, and some baked cookies I made with my parents. I gently placed the offering right on the glass coffee table, and scurried off to bed.

I nestled into my blankets, and Mom gave me a gentle kiss on my forehead. The adrenaline had already rushed trough my body, so it was nearly impossible for a nine-year-old to doze off without a second thought. I looked out my window, and pondered of all the brilliant, shining. tiny, vibrant colored wrapping paper with all of the gifts I had asked Santa for. About thirty minutes had passed, and my eyes were getting a tad bit weary. I snuggled once more in my bed. This was not working.

I decided to make a pillow fort to make myself tired, grabbed all of the throws, pillows, and whatever comfy objects I could find. It was not the best, but it was comforting with the feeling of being in a secure place. Safe, I thought. An awfully boring hour went by, and I figured I would make myself. myself a glass of water. I looked over the staircase and could see the beautiful illuminating lights from the Christmas tree, reflecting onto the wall. I slowly crept down each of the steps, trying not to wake my parents, as they go to

bed early for some reason. Did Santa arrive? I slowly walked over, and peered around. Nobody. Ha, that was strange, I whispered to myself. I sat on the couch, having little gulps of the refreshment. Just as I was getting comfortable, I saw in the corner of my eye a black figure. S. Santa. I said, as my voice quivered. No response. I cautiously walked over to see who, or

what it was, just as I took another step, my face fledged from full terror. A tall, almost dead-looking, thing. Defiantly not human figure was towering over me. I ran as fast as I could, crying my eyes out for Mom and Dad to save me. I had tripped over a few steps, but did not look back. I frantically pounded on my parents' door, and had swung the door wide open. My heart had dropped. I was lost for words. Mom was gone. Dad had disappeared. As I cowardly turned around. That horrifying. Being was inches away from me. Safe, safe, was the last words from nine-year-old Alex J. Lewis. I remember back in ninth grade, there was this girl in my class who was deaf. Not completely, but she could barely hear anything. She mostly communicated through

sign language or by writing things down on paper. Sometimes she'd try to talk, but her words came out muffled and hard to understand. It was obvious she struggled with it, so she mostly stuck to her usual methods of communication. Despite her disability, she was honestly one of the most attractive girls in our grade. She had this soft, delicate face, long dark hair that she always kept neatly tucked behind her ears, and these big, expressive eyes that seemed to say a thousand things at once. Even though she couldn't hear music or conversations the same way we did, she always seemed so in tune with the world in a different way, like she could pick up on things we didn't even notice. It was kind of mesmerizing to watch. She loved reading. I mean,

loved it. Every time I saw her, she had her nose buried in a book, flipping through the pages like she was devouring the words. Since watching movies wasn't exactly the easiest thing for her, books were her escape. She'd sit in the library during lunch or study hall, completely absorbed in whatever novel she was reading that week. And when she got excited about it, something, whether it was a story she loved or just something that made her happy, she did this adorable little clapping thing, almost like a tiny applause just for herself. It was honestly one of the cutest things I'd ever seen, and I found myself watching her more and more, noticing all these little details about her.

Before I knew it, I had developed a huge crush on her. Now, this was around the same time I had just started getting into anime. Like, really getting into it. I had just finished watching a silent voice, which, if you don't know, is a movie about a deaf girl and this guy who bullied her as a kid but later tries to make up for it. That movie hit me hard. It had all the emotions, the heartbreak, the redemption, it made me think, damn, having a deaf girlfriend would be kind of poetic.

I know, I know. Looking back, that was kind of a weird mindset to have. But at the time, I was young, naive, and hopelessly romanticizing the idea of being with her. The problem was, I wasn't the only one who thought she was cute. There were other guys in our class who also had a thing for her. And the thing is, some of them weren't exactly the nicest people. I could tell that a few of them thought she'd be easy, because of her disability. Like, they assumed she'd be desperate for attention or wouldn't realize if they were being fake.

But she was way smarter than that. She could see through their crap instantly and wanted nothing to do with them. That's when I realized I needed to do something different. Something that would actually impress her, not just in a look at me way, but in a way that would prove I genuinely cared. That's when I got the idea to learn sign language. At first, it was just a thought. Like, wouldn't it be cool if I could talk to her in her own language?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I wanted to do it. Not just for her, but because it felt like the right thing to do. So, every day during my free time, I started studying sign language. I watched videos, practiced in front of a mirror, and even signed up for an online course to learn properly. It was tough at first, trying to get my hands to move naturally, remembering all the different gestures, but after about a month, I had learned enough to hold a basic conversation. One day, I decided it was time to finally use what I had learned.

I found her in the library, sitting at her usual spot with a book in her hands. My heart was racing as I walked up to her. I didn't want to seem weird or make her uncomfortable, so I just casually signed, Hey, how are you? She looked up, gave a small nod, and signed back, I'm okay. At first, she wasn't all that impressed. I mean, she had seen me sign simple greetings before, just like everyone else who had picked up a few basic words here and there. But then, I kept going.

I started a full conversation in sign language, asking her about her book, telling her about my day. That's when her eyes widened a bit, and for the first time, I saw a real surprise on her face. You learned all this? She signed, a little slower this time, like she was making sure she understood me right. I nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. Yeah. I wanted to be able to talk to you properly. She smiled.

A real, genuine smile. And that's when I knew, I had done something right. Over the next few weeks, we started talking more. She seemed comfortable around me, and I felt like I was actually getting to know her. beyond just my crush. She told me about her favorite books, her strict family, how they worried about her all the time because of her disability. She talked about how hard it was to make friends when most people didn't even try to communicate with her. I felt like we were really connecting. And so, one day, I decided to take a leap of faith and confess my feelings

to her. I spent days preparing. I wrote out a love letter, cheesy and heartfelt, but full of all the things I wanted to say. I even practiced signing my confession in front of the mirror so I wouldn't mess it up. Then, finally, I found her in the library again. My hands were shaking, but I went up to her and signed, I really like you. I think you're amazing. Then, I handed her the letter. She took it, read it slowly, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, she'd say yes. But then, she looked at me with this sad expression and signed, I'm sorry. I can't. She explained that she wasn't ready for a relationship. That her parents were really strict and didn't want her dating. That she was scared people would only like her because they thought

she was different, not because they actually cared. I was crushed. Not just because she rejected me, but because I realized she had probably dealt with this kind of thing before, people trying to impress her, but not really understanding what she wanted or needed. After that, things changed. She started avoiding me a little, not in a mean way, but in a way that made it clear she didn't want to leave me on. And I got it. I had put her in an awkward position, and that wasn't fair to her.

Looking back now, I realize how naive I was. I had thought learning sign language would automatically make her fall for me. I had put so much effort into impressing her that I never stopped to think about what she actually wanted. Years later, I stumbled across her Facebook profile. She looked happy. She had a boyfriend, a guy who seemed genuinely good for her. And honestly, I was happy for her. It was a lesson I needed to learn.

You can't force someone to like you. just because you put an effort. And more importantly, you shouldn't treat someone's disability like it's a personality trait or something to romanticize. So yeah. Ninth grade me was a bit of an idiot. But at least I can look back on it now and laugh. And hey, at least I learned some sign language out of it.

The day the truth finally came for me, I never thought I'd live long enough to see the day my name would be cleared. Honestly, I had given up on it. For twenty long, soul-wrecking years, I walked around carrying the weight of a crime I didn't commit. People crossed the street to avoid me. Strangers spat at my feet. The people I once loved whispered behind my back, or worse, stopped speaking altogether. I became the man in town that mothers warned their children about, the man no one wanted near their families.

All because they thought I murdered my wife in cold blood. And let me tell you, that sort of accusation doesn't fade. It clings to you like cigarette smoke on a cheap motel curtain. I was labeled a monster, the husband who finally snapped, the guy who couldn't handle his wife walking out. They said I killed her. That I hid the body. That I went on with my life like nothing happened. None of that was true.

Not a single bit. But the truth doesn't matter when everyone's already. made up their minds, especially when the media turns your life into a headline. When Alyssa disappeared, my world unraveled in slow motion. It was like watching a car crash from the inside, you see the truck coming, but you can't move. You can't stop it. One moment, we were arguing about something stupid, bills, chores, dinner, I don't even remember. The next, she was gone.

Vanished. Poof. Like she never existed. I didn't panic right away. People leave. They cool off. I figured she just needed space. Maybe she was staying with her mom for a night or two.

But after the third day, I started feeling this heavy pressure in my chest, like a truck parked on my ribs. Something wasn't right. And when her family showed up waving around this bloodstained scarf like it was a goddamn smoking gun, I knew my life was over. They didn't ask questions. They didn't want answers. They'd already decided, I was guilty. Her brother grabbed me by the shirt. Her mom screamed in my face.

Next thing I know, there are cops at my door, reading me my rights, treating me like a piece of garbage. I told them everything I knew, which wasn't much, and they looked at me like I was wasting their time. It didn't matter that there was no body. No witnesses. No motive. Just the story her family told, and a few bloodstains they claimed were hers. The media ran with it. They slapped my mugshot on every channel and painted me as the controlling husband, the ticking time bomb. I was a villain overnight. The trial was a circus. The prosecution didn't have facts, they had feelings. He was angry, they said. He was possessed. He was possessed. He was He had a temper. That's all it took. A few dramatic testimonies from Alyssa's family and some cherry-picked

stories from our past arguments. The jury ate it up. I was found guilty in less than a day. Sentenced to prison. Five years behind bars were something I didn't do. Let me tell you something about prison. It's not just a punishment, it's a place where time dies. The days don't pass. They drag. You lose track of everything, the date, the seasons, even who you are. I stopped being a person. I was just another inmate. I kept my head down, did my job in the kitchen, and counted the cracks in the walls.

That's how I survived. When I finally got out, thanks to some obscure technicality in my trial, I didn't feel free. I was on parole, living under a microscope. I couldn't go anywhere without permission. Couldn't speak my mind. Couldn't be me. I moved two states away, changed my name, started taking whatever jobs I could find. Construction, roofing, hauling junk, anything that paid cash.

I rented a room above a garage and kept to myself. No friends. No relationships. No future. But I never stopped thinking about a list. Every night I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering, what happened to her? Was she dead? Did I miss something?

Or had I really just been the fall guy in some twisted game? I tortured myself with those questions for almost 15 years. I had no answers. Just silence. Until two months ago. That's when everything flipped. My cousin Dave, the only relative who still talked to me, was in Arizona on a work trip.

He's in real estate, always bouncing around looking at properties. He was checking out a strip mall on the outskirts of Phoenix when he saw her. Alyssa. Just walking out of a grocery store like nothing ever happened. Holding hands with a man and talking to two teenage kids. Dave told me he did a double take. He thought he was hallucinating. But he knew it was her.

He followed her to the parking lot and watched her get in a minivan. Snapped a picture with his phone. Sent it to me with a message that just said, tell me this isn't who I think it is. I stared at that photo for 20 minutes. It was her. Alissa. Same eyes. Same smile.

Different hair color, older face, a little heavier, but it was definitely her. I almost threw up. after all these years she was alive and she had a new life i hired a private investigator the next day a good one he followed her for three weeks turns out she'd been living under a new name lisa turner married to her high school sweetheart had two kids a decent house a job at a library she wasn't in hiding she wasn't in danger she was living like a soccer mom from the suburbs while I was out here scraping together rent money and trying not to get beat up for something I didn't do. The P.I gathered everything, photos, documents, addresses. We took it all to my lawyer, who nearly had a heart attack when he saw the evidence. Within a week, we had a meeting with the police. The same people who had once locked me up now had to sit across from me and listen while we laid out the truth. Alisa had faked everything.

The fight, the scarf, the disappearance, all of it. Her family helped her. They planted evidence. They lied under oath. They threw me under the bus so she could disappear and start over. She didn't leave because she was scared of me. She left because she didn't want to be married anymore. She wanted a reset button, and she didn't care who she had to ruin to get it.

The cops reopened the case. arrested Alyssa a week later. She tried to talk her way out of it, claimed it was a misunderstanding, said she, had no idea what I went through. But they weren't buying it. Not this time. She's facing charges now, fraud, perjury, obstruction of justice, conspiracy. Her parents and her brother are being charged too. Turns out they were in on it from day one.

Helped her disappear. Lied in court. Destroyed my life. And just like that, the story hit the news again. Only this time, the headline was different. Not husband-murder's wife. No. Now it was, man cleared after wife found alive 20 years later.

People started reaching out. Old co-workers. Neighbors. Even a couple of reporters. Everyone wanted to hear my side. To ask me what it felt like. But how do you explain 20 years of pain? How do you put into words what it's like to be hated for something you didn't do?

To sit in a cell every night knowing the real villain is out there raising kids and living her best life. People ask me if I'm angry. That's a funny word, angry. It doesn't cover it. It's not enough. I was broken. Betrayed. Hallowed out.

My life was. was stolen. My identity was erased. I don't know if there's a word for what I feel. It's somewhere between grief and numbness. But I do know this, I survived. I lost two decades. Missed birthdays. Weddings. Funerals. I missed the world changing. But I never gave up on the truth. And now, finally, the truth came back for me. I don't know what comes. comes next. I'm still figuring it out. Maybe I'll write a book. Maybe I'll disappear for a while. All I know is, I'm not hiding anymore. I'm not running. And I'm sure as hell not apologizing. Because I didn't do it. And now, the world knows I didn't either. The end.

For context, I'm 23M, and my father is, 64. Only recently, as I'm an adult has he's. he started to open up about his past and the things he went through. Never could I have imagined the hardships and things that happened to him. It has honestly blown my mind. So I started to write down his story with his permission to share. Anyways, I will detail here what I know about him without revealing any names or specific locations. This is a very long post, sorry for that. Please let me know if this is something worth pursuing, along with any tips you may have. My father grew up as one of 24 children in his family, born in Laos in 1959 during the civil war between communist Pathet Lao, who was backed by northern Vietnam and the Royal Lao

Government. The U.S. backed the Royal Lao government and engaged in what is known as the Laos Secret War, and dropped more than 270 million cluster bombs on Laos in a nine-year period, making Laos the most bombed country per capita. During which my dad went to Catholic school in the morning and then to public school in the afternoon. Many families sent their children to Catholic schools so they could be fed due to the overwhelming poverty at the time. France had integrated Laos into French Indochina many decades prior, building many Catholic churches and schools, thus converting a portion of the country from Buddhism to Catholicism. The school my father went to also taught the children Muay Thai as part of the curriculum for

some reason. As my father studied and trained for a few years, the conflict was starting to spread closer to his village and tension was building with the people there. My dad was around ten at this time, I should also mention that my grandfather was a horrifying and abusive man. He was short and stocky, covered in tattoos of the Naga from head to toe. The Naga is a demi-god sea serpent that is worshipped in Lao culture, said to reside in the Mekong River. All 24 of the children were his but split between three wives, which was sort of the norm at the time in Laos. My grandfather was seen as a powerful man in the village because of his abundance of sons. At the time you could just go and claim land with manpower alone, so my

grandfather and his sons would go and claim rice fields for themselves. If any of his children didn't obey his orders he would punish them very severely, as well as punished the respective child's mother. Intense beatings were the norm. As well as being farmers, my family were renowned water buffalo tamers. People would come to buy water buffalo and their meat, it was profitable. Once the conflict grew closer, buyers for the rice and buffalo stopped coming. This led my grandfather to turn to crime, crossing the Mekong River to Thailand to sell his goods, where he also began selling opium. Which was all explicitly outlawed.

He forced his older sons to accompany him in the cover of night, risking all their lives in the process due to the nearby communist camps that would patrol the river at night looking to execute any who tried to escape across the river, and freedom fighters crossing into the country to fight the communists. During this time, my uncle, a pilot in the Lao military, decided to escape the country. He was about 15 years older than my father and was married to my aunt, who is my father's older sibling. Sorry if that was confusing, they had a two-year-old son and did not want to bring him up in the middle of this conflict. At the time my uncle was stationed in Thailand because the communists were gathering up all the stray Lao government

officials and members of the military to send them to work camps. My uncle hatched a plan to sneak back into Laos across the river at night and retrieve his wife and child. Initially, things went well and he was able to cross into the country without being spotted and retrieve his family, but by the time they returned to the river of the boat that was waiting for them was gone, chased away by communist soldiers. So my uncle waited while hiding in a bush with his wife and their small child for days until finally, another boat arrived to rescue them. This act inspired more people in the village to try and rebel or escape, causing many unfortunate deaths. My grandfather was explicitly against any of his other children attempting to do anything similar despite his

frequent trips across the river. I guess he had a sort of, nobody can endanger my children but me mindset. A few years went by with nothing major happening in the village, though the conflict was still going strong. My dad was around 13 at this time, and my grandfather became increasingly abusive due to the lack of money and food around, which led him to do one of the worst things I have had the displeasure of hearing to this day. My father had been tending the fields and hurting Buffalo. During that time he had made his first real friend, a stray dog that he would often see on the edge of the village.

He began to feed the dog with the little scraps he was able to sneak away from home, and the dog began accompanying him to the fields every morning while he did his work. The way my father described this dog and their relationship made me understand how much it meant to him. The dog became his best friend. They did everything together, and my father was happy for the first time in his life. Then one day, an unspecified amount of time later. My father woke up and was not able to find his buddy, he went out to the fields and the dog

never came, he tended to the buffalo and the dog was nowhere to be seen. He finished his work and returned home to find the most horrifying thing a child could see. My grandfather had the top half of his dog strung up on a meat hook to try, while he sat and ate the other portion right in front of my father. My dad began to break down and cry asking him why he would do this, his father told him that he had seen him walking around the fields with this dog. He said that all animals are to him is meat and he was hungry, knowing that this was my father's only friend and that taking him away would break my father's heart.

This event is what would make my father start to truly hate his father. At this point, my dad had completely renounced any type of relationship he had with his father and decided that he would take revenge. My father spoke to his brothers and was able to convince a handful of them to help him take revenge for the beatings they'd all received and for the abuse of their mothers. Some time later they decided the time was right, they waited for their father to come home from a trip into town. When he did, they surrounded him, ready to take out all their frustrations on him.

It was at this point that a few of the brothers started to get scared and back down, but my father was so enraged that he rushed at his father with a farming tool and the intent to seriously harm him. Only my father was a thirteen-year-old boy, and his father was a grown man, strong from working the fields his entire life. My father proceeded to get the worst beating of his life, right there in front of his brothers. Everyone was too petrified to move and just let my father be beaten within an inch of his life. To this day my father still has resentment toward those brothers that he feels betrayed him that

day. From then forward, the mistreatment toward my father only got worse and finally reached a boiling point. My father realized that the only way he could get away from this abuse was to escape the country. This time he made sure only to tell the people he trusted. being just two friends from the village who were a few years older than him. There were only two problems, they had no canoe to cross the river, and my father knew his siblings and mother would be punished for him leaving. Despite this, they still decided to go through with their

plan. They spent the time they had after work going up and down the river scouting for the narrowest part of the river, and the parts with the weakest current so they could cross. The Mekong can be over a mile wide, or 1.5 kilometers in some areas. The soldiers also only patrolled the river at night, as during the day it was sort of a no-man's land, and people were allowed to continue fishing and working on the river. At the same time, they were slowly gathering supplies for their journey. At some point, my grandmother started to put together what they were up to and offered to help them. She pulled my father aside and told him that she knew what they were up to and told them where to cross the river, as well as when my grandfather would be away

and that they should steal his canoe and leave at that time. They had a long conversation about what would happen after they left. Much of this conversation my dad skimmed over when telling me. My grandmother assured my father that she would be okay and that this was his opportunity for a better life. She gave him what little money she could without anyone noticing, and a handful of jewelry she had been stashing. With that the plan was complete.

Sometime later my father and his friends decided that the time was right. They gathered the little belongings they could carry on their backs and said their goodbyes. They left for the river in the middle of the night while my grandfather was in the woods foraging for mushrooms. It was lightly raining, they made their way to the canoe and sat for a while to gather the courage to actually get in. Once they were in they were almost immediately spotted by a nearby patrol of communist soldiers. At this point, the fight or flight response kicked in, and they all chose flight. Knowing that turning around and surrendering would lead to being sent to a work camp or worse. So they all paddled as hard as they could away from the

low shore and toward the Thai shore. The soldiers made their way to the edge of the embankment and began firing their guns into the water. Sadly, one friend was struck in the back of the head and died instantly, falling into the water. They had no time to process what just happened and continued to paddle for their lives. That was until my father's other friend was also hit, it pierced his upper back and he was paralyzed. My father started to panic and dropped the paddle only to be shot in his right shoulder as well, but more soldiers were coming up the river in a boat and they had no time. Nearby Thai soldiers heard the gunfire and rushed to the shore on their side, returning fire to give my dad enough time to reach the shore. He touched the

soil and knew that he had made it. Once they touched Thai soil, the soldiers no longer pursued them as they did want to start an all-out battle with the Thai soldiers at this time. The Thai soldiers began to escort my father and carry his paralyzed friend inland, but my dad decided to stop for a moment to look back. He saw the communist soldiers picking his dead friend up out of the water and placing him in the boat. My father still suffers from survivors' guilt to this day, which is what led him to do what he did next. The Thai soldiers told them about a few large refugee camps on the border in Thailand, so my father decided to head towards one. On their way, they had to stop at an immigration center so my father could register as a refugee

and get some medical attention. Once completed, my dad, filled with anger, changed his mind and decided to head towards a group of Lao refugees he had heard about who had decided to form a resistance group to fight back against the communists. So my father said goodbye to his friend who had been paralyzed and started traveling to this camp alone. This camp was run by a Lao man who was previously in the Lao military until his entire unit was rounded up and sent to work camps or executed. This man was the only one to escape. When my dad arrived at this place there were many young Lao men just like him, around 100, and many of them my dad knew from around his village. After feeding my father the man in charge explained that he was forming a resistance group, funded by the time military secretly, to go back and reclaim their villages from the communists and that my father could either join or be on his way to the refugee camp.

At this time my father is around 14. My dad joined this camp and began his training as a child soldier of sorts. This is one of the things I only learned about my father very recently, so I don't have many details about this time of his life yet. My dad started by training with firearms and digging trenches around their base, should the communists ever come to the Thai side. Part of the schedule was patrols during the day and night, my dad was stationed on night patrol where he admitted to messing around with an M-16 accidentally firing off about 15 rounds into the night sky, which awoke the whole camp, who scolded him and nearly kicked him out. My dad was at this resistance camp for little more than six months, during this time they

orchestrated several surprise attacks against groups of communist soldiers, my dad detailed his feelings about what happened, saying that he always had severe anxiety every time they got into a boat to go back into Laos, probably due to the trauma he suffered crossing the river the day he escaped. He would close his eyes the entire boat ride and only open them once he knew they had made it across. Once back in the country, usually, groups of three men would sneak around small villages, looking for patrols they could follow back to the main camps to map out where all their bases were. When they had identified all the camps in a given area, they would leave and gather more men to come back and wait to ambush patrols in quieter, more secluded

areas, taking away a lot of manpower the communists had. Doing this allowed them to sneak people out of Laos much easier, and they were even able to rid a few small villages of soldiers altogether. Despite going on more than a few of these missions, my dad is not sure if he ever killed anyone. In the same way that he closed his eyes when he was in the boat, he closed his eyes as they shot into groups of enemy soldiers, probably trying to save himself from the trauma of knowing, or just from being scared. This all culminated when my dad was sent out on one of the scouting missions, only this time they were scouting his village and the surrounding area. They arrived on the Lao shore, and this time my father was more angry than anxious.

They entered the outskirts of the village and hid, having been here not long ago, my dad knew where a few of the enemy camps were nearby, and also where they usually patrolled. When they stepped foot in the village, my dad was filled with rage and hatred. For the first time since joining, he wanted to end someone's life. They continued further into the village until they were basically on my grandfather's property, which only pissed my dad off more. They ducked down into the bushes and waited. Eventually, a patrol came into view, and as they got closer, my dad started to lose his composure. This mission was intended to be a scouting mission as they were only a group of three, but my dad was so furious that he stood up and pointed his rifle at the

approaching soldiers, ready to end them. Just when he was about to start firing, his comrades pulled him down into the bushes, thankfully before they were spotted. My father fought for them to let go, but they held him down until the soldiers passed. They then explained to my dad that he wasn't thinking clearly. There was a nearby camp they already knew about, within distance to hear any commotion happening in the village, and that if my dad fired, they might have been able to kill the patrolling soldiers and get away uninjured, but there would soon be reinforcements coming and they would most likely slaughter my dad and his comrades, as well as the people of the village. Now coming to his senses, my dad agreed with them and they finished their scouting

and then returned to Thailand. On December 2nd, 1975 Laos had officially been seized by the communist Pathet Lao. Though it was over, the communists were still very hostile, making return to Laos for refugees impossible. My dad was distraught, the people in the resistance camp started to notice his reluctance to go out and fight, and he soon started to refuse. This was against the rules, as my dad had signed a contract to fight with them until they accomplished their goal, or died trying. My dad was on track to being punished when an older man who was in charge of some of the men approached him. My father had seen this man in camp several times and always thought he looked familiar. It turns out that this older man was a relative of my father's, he had married one of my dad's distant aunt some time ago and they moved to a village far away enough that they hardly ever saw each other, and after the conflict got close they weren't able to come back at all.

This older man told my father that he didn't recognize him either until he heard his name. They talked for a while and he proceeded to tell my dad that he knew fighting wasn't for him, he would surely die in vain and make the escape his mother created for him pointless. He offered to rip up the contract my dad signed and help him leave the resistance camp. After some thought my dad agreed to this and his days as a freedom fighter were over. Once he was out of the camp, the only option was to head to a refugee camp for shelter. When my dad got there, he said it was the most depressing environment he had been in. At least in the resistance camp, they had a purpose, a goal to strive for and keep them from

falling apart. Here, the people had nothing. No hope of ever returning to their villages, or seeing the families they left behind again. They woke up in the morning and lined up with the bulls the camp provided them, and cows with small trailers in tow were led into the camp hauling barrels of food mush. You handed your bowl to the person in charge and they would dish out your food for the whole day, you had to make that small bowl of food last for all three meals every day. At some point, my dad became tired of this monotonous life he was living and started looking for things to do, or ways to get more food. There was a bit of a trade market going on between the refugees, as some of them came with livestock or bundles of rice and different

vegetables. My dad quickly burned through the little money his mother had given him to buy extra food, and the jewelry was of no use, as no one would trade precious food for them. A few months passed like this and my dad started to make some friends, as well as reconnect with people he had known from home. His new friends were not the best influences, they inducted him into a sort of gang that would steal money and food from other refugees, as the Thai soldiers didn't care about what they did to each other. The word started to spread that my dad and his friends were bad news, and people stopped associating with them. The only other place they could go was a nearby Thai village, but the rules forbid anyone from leaving the camp without permission and a written pass.

There were a few problems with this system, one was that there was only a certain amount of passes to be given out each day, and there were thousands of refugees in the camp. You would need to sign up for a pass ahead of time and be put on a waiting list, but with the amount of people in the camp it could be months before you were able to get one. The other problem being that there were people who had befriended, or bribed the guards and got to skip the whole process to get a pass, making the waiting game take even longer for other people. My dad and his friends decided to go the faster route and tried befriending the guards, they started by buying alcohol for them and staying up late to hang out with them. At some point, one of the guards developed a crush on the little sister of one of the friends. They found this out and used it as leverage, telling the guard that they would for sure get her to go on a date with him, and he agreed to let them out whenever he was stationed at the entrance.

From their things became much easier for them, being able to go into town and get supplies as well as just having fun. Eventually, they found out about this Muay Thai fighting ring where they could earn some money. You had to have a sponsor or someone to vouch for you to be able to fight in these things, so my dad kept showing up and sparring with people hoping to get noticed, and eventually did. He made a deal with this guy who said he would get my dad fights, and if he won they would split the money, but if he lost, my dad would have to pay him. Shitty deal, but my dad took it.

He said he fought four times and won every time, which is very believable if you have ever actually met my father. Every time he fought, he was able to pay for at least one week's worth of food, two if he made it last. So it was worth it for him. After about a year of being in the refugee camp, word spread about a humanitarian aid organization called Compassion International. They had a sponsorship system in which a family from somewhere in the world would send money to kids and adults up to 22 years old in countries in need. They would send some for food, education, and necessities, and sometimes, in the case of people like my father, get the person out of the country.

My dad heard about this and signed up through the refugee camp. It took a while, but around 1978 my dad became sponsored by a family of five from France. They sent him money for all his daily needs and my dad began to do better. Not hanging out with the same friends anymore and beginning to go to church. He would be sponsored by this family until he was 20 when they offered to buy him a plane ticket to anywhere in the world. My dad chose to go to San Francisco. He packed up what little he had said.

his goodbyes, and left for the US. He arrived in 1980, and once there he had to go through a sort of vetting process to be eligible for immigrant status in the US. Fun fact, the immigration agent that processed his arrival was in charge of taking down all my dad's information and submitting the forms. When my dad told him our last name, the agent misspelled it, and when my dad tried to correct him, the agent just brushed him off. My dad never bothered to change it back so my last name is legally different than what it should be.

He stayed in San Francisco for two months until he was granted immigrant status and able to travel elsewhere in the United States. By this time he had already decided that he hated San Francisco and that it was not for him. After remembering his sister who escaped all those years before was also in the U.S., the same sister detailed earlier. He tracked her down to Utah and got in contact with her. She told him the story about how her family got to the U.S. after they escaped from Laos. My uncle being a pilot for the Lao military, knew some soldiers stationed at a

refugee camp near where they were and knew that they had a helicopter. My uncle, along with some of the soldiers he convinced to flee, stole the helicopter and took his family to a safer part of the country where they would then leave for the U.S. Once there, they would go through the same process my father did and end up in Utah. My aunt agreed to take him my dad for a while until he figured something out. He slept on her couch for a few weeks until he knew they couldn't afford to feed him anymore, as they were struggling to raise a child in a new country where they didn't know the language, and didn't have a proper education. Not to mention the racism toward Asians at the time immediately following the Vietnam and Lao's

wars. So my dad decided to go to Job Corps. While there he would learn enough English to get by and studied to be a machinist. Two years passed and he left Job Corps and became a full-time machinist. After getting a place to stay and saving up some money, my dad decided to buy a car. He went to a small dealership where he bought a car and drove it off the lot. Not even five minutes into his drive, the car broke down and my dad went back to the dealership. He tried to return the car, but the salesman took advantage of his poor English and told my father there was nothing he could do.

My dad didn't realize how things worked and couldn't read or write well enough to know that he was entitled to a refund if he wanted. So my dad took the loss and kept the car. He became angry not at the salesman, but at himself for not knowing the language well enough. My dad enrolled himself in ESL classes to bridge the gap and hopefully get some more respect. During this time my dad became intrigued by bodybuilders like Lou Farigno and Arnold, and he envied the respect they demanded with their presence. So he began lifting in his free time and soon became obsessed with it, spending an absurd amount of time at the gym.

He would meet a lot of people at the gym in the 80s, a few of them becoming lifelong friends. One of them was a man who was almost 20 years older than my dad. He was from Indonesia and shared a lot in common with my father so they bonded and he became a father figure to my dad. He also met a man about the same age as him who introduced him to the world of powerlifting. Over the course of 10 years, my father took a lot of steroids and got absolutely massive, around 220 pounds at 5 feet 8 inches in his early 30s with a PR5 plate bench press, or 495 pounds per 224 kilograms. He also met a woman and briefly married her to get his U.S. citizenship.

Not really marriage fraud, just a mutual agreement between them. Things just didn't work so they split up. At some point, my dad had figured out how to get in contact with his family back home and found out most of them were doing okay, though he didn't talk to anyone very often except his mother, and the only thing his father ever said to him was to send him money. In those ten years, my dad transitioned to working in real estate and owned a few houses and a couple of cars. He was finally prospering and doing better than he ever could have a man.

imagined he would all those years ago when he was a farmer in the war-torn jungle. It was now the 90s, my dad had a lot of friends, and things were looking good. My dad spent a lot of years partying and just enjoying his life. The man from Indonesia brought my dad in as a member of his family, so he would spend all holidays split between that family and his sister's family. My father decided to quit his job as a real estate agent and work with the man from Indonesia, who owned a successful auto recovery company, so my dad became a tow truck driver. I know, a crazy career change, but my dad ended up buying the company and turned it from just successful to thriving.

More years went by and through mutual friends, my dad befriended a woman who he would know for many more years as she went through a failed marriage and had two boys. My dad ended up helping her out as she was essentially homeless with two kids and nowhere to go. He gave her money to rent an apartment for the time being and she promised to pay him back eventually. Well, eventually turned into her moving in with my dad and them starting a relationship. She would become my mother, and my dad would become a stepdad and a father at the same time.

She found out she was pregnant with me and my dad bought a home for his new family in late 1999. By 2000 they were all settled in and I was born. Then my dad got a call from his mother letting him know his father had died. My dad got on a flight back to Laos to attend his funeral, and this would be the first time he had been back to Laos in 20 years. When he arrived, he immediately felt out of place, gone for so long not speaking his native time. he lost a lot of his vocabulary. He came back to Laos to see his family and help them with the expenses, but deep down he had some unfinished business with his father that he felt he couldn't resolve without returning to say goodbye. My dad spent only one short week there,

seeing all the family he left behind, attending the funeral ceremonies, and spending time with his mother. He found out that the friend who was paralyzed in the escape attempt was still alive and living in France with some family. After everything, my father felt there was nothing left there for him, and returned to the U.S. and his family. That concludes everything I know about my dad, other than the him that I knew growing up, and the parts he either left out, forgot, or just weren't important. Overall, I think that my dad had a very intense life growing up and that his story deserves to be told. If you made it this far, please tell me what you think about it, and whether this is something you would consider interesting enough to be adapted into

a larger, more detailed work. Thank you for reading. It was a sunny and warm school day in Logan County, Oklahoma. I was in grade 9 of high school, and everything was normal, at first. Sometime before the end of school, I decided to take a dump on the second floor boys' washroom, my classroom was located there too, and everything was normal. Then, I smelt it. There was a sweet yet addicting smell coming from the ground. It was my first year in that school, and I didn't know the ins and outs of this place yet, but I decided to investigate. My plan was to tell the principal about this as soon as I figured out what it was. After that, the bell rang. You could hear students run out of the building, doors opening, and teachers reminding their pupils about

homework. I went to my classroom, my teacher, Mrs. Punsfield had already left which was strange, considering she always said she stayed at school until 5.30, to get my backpack and phone and heading down the stairs. That's when the strangeness started. The school was awkwardly quiet. You couldn't hear anything, at least on the second floor. I headed downstairs to get out, but all the doors were locked. The worst thing was that my phone had died, and I had no way to contact the outside world, at least until the next school day. I checked for any open windows on the first. floor, but there were none. I decided to camp it out near my locker on the second floor, and that's when I remembered, I hadn't figured out what was causing the smell yet. It seemed to be getting stronger. And it kept making me want to have more of it, which was weird. I checked the clock in the nearby classroom about a few hours later. It was 6'10, and I was a bit hungry. I ate the granola bar in my backpack, and I decided to move near the heater as it was getting cold. I lost basically all hope and I decided to sleep through the night, hoping the night janitor

would find me. He didn't. In fact, there was no janitor at night. I didn't want to turn on any lights because it would cause suspicion. Then I saw it. There was a light coming from the first floor, there was a glass window where students on the second floor could see the lobby on the first floor. I headed there using the stairs and realized the light was coming from a door.

A sliver of it was open, and I decided to go in there. I eventually learned that I was inside the school storage room. It was quite dim, but I could clearly see a few crates. They seemed normal, and they looked like your average shipping crates. But one of them was open, and I couldn't believe what I saw. There were bottles and packages many different things. Most of them were your regular school supplies, paper, pencils, and whiteboard markers. But a few of the crates were filled with illegal performance-enhancing drugs that had the exact same strange smell.

So that's where the smell on the second floor came from. Was shocked about how the school was hoarding all of this up. Then, I heard two voices, one male and one female. They got louder and louder, and that's when the door opened. I thought I was being rescued, but it turns out I wasn't. It was the principal, and one of the lunch ladies. I hid behind one of the crates, the one with the drugs in particular, but both of them came straight to it and took some of the drugs.

That's when they saw me. I was doomed. What are you doing here, at this hour, behind this crate, the principal asks. I got locked inside the school, and I stayed here and I found this place. Ivy got half a mind to call the police. I said, I was bluffing about the police because my phone was dead. but he didn't have to know. You are in big trouble, boy.

You are not supposed to be here, and I will not let you go because you children love spreading stories like this. He said, but this isn't a story, I just want to know why all of these drugs are here. I told him. His explanation was quick, but unconvincing. He said that in a couple of weeks the standardized tests were happening, and the school could be demolished, and he could lose his job due to plummeting tests. test grades. Not only that, he said that the superintendent was coming that day, and he couldn't risk losing his job and facing embarrassment. He bought these drugs, he didn't specify where,

but I didn't want to know, and planned to put them in our lunch the day before the test, in the hopes of not losing his job. I'm just trying to give you free grades, you should be happy, the principal said. But unfortunately, I can't let you free now. You will blab about this to everybody else, he said. He pulled out a pistol from his pocket. My heart stopped for a second. I ran for my life, pushing the horrible principal and the lunch lady, past the door, heading towards the lobby. I hid behind a vending machine, and luckily they went upstairs, thinking I was there. That's when I saw it. The key to escape this nightmare. There was a phone booth on the other side of the lobby, near the school library. I sprinted there, and dialed 911. I figured I had

enough time to tell them about this, but I was unsure if I was going to make it out alive. 911, what's your emergency, said the operator. Hello, I am a student stuck inside Guthrie High School. The principal is crazy, there's crates full of illegal performance enhancing drugs in the storage room, and he's hunting me down with a pistol. This sounds a bit fake, considering there's still a few hours before the school opens, but I'll send a few patrols over. We'll come in about five minutes. The operator replied, I don't blame him for thinking this was not real. It did kind of sound fake. But then, I saw the principal on the stairs, and he saw me. I ran for my life. He shot his pistol at me.

Luckily, he missed. He shot it again, and missed, but was really close. I took cover behind one of the couches, and ran into the cafeteria. The principal followed me there. I thought I was safe, hiding behind the serving counter. But then, the lunch lady came, and she was holding a pot of boiling water. I kept running, and tried to escape through a window in the classroom, but it was locked. Even worse, my foolish past self closed the door, and I couldn't open it.

It was locked. I was finished. Then, I heard sirens. They were distant, but they seemed to be getting closer. I heard one of the doors bust open and a loud chatter. It was the police, I was saved. But then, the principal came towards the classroom I was hiding in. And I lost all hope.

I took a lid from the trash can and used it as cover. I ran towards the front entrance where the police. broke in. The principal fell for it. He was caught by the police. I was saved. The school was shut down for the day for a health inspection. A new principal took over, and later that night this incident was all over the news. I didn't know it at the time, but it would be forever known as the Oklahoma principal scandal. Two weeks later, the principal was arrested and imprisoned for life, and I never heard of him again. The lunch lady was also fired and fined a couple thousand dollars.

All seemed well, and business in the school was back to normal. The end, for context, I'm 23M, and my father is, 64. Only recently, as I'm an adult as he started to open up about his past and the things he went through. Never could I have imagined the hardships and things that happened to him. It has honestly blown my mind. So I started to write down his story. with his permission to share. Anyways, I will detail here what I know about him without revealing any names or specific locations.

This is a very long post, sorry for that. Please let me know if this is something worth pursuing, along with any tips you may have. My father grew up as one of 24 children in his family, born in Laos in 1959 during the civil war between communist Pathet Lao, who was backed by northern Vietnam, and the Royal Lao government. The U.S. backed the Royal Lao government and engaged in what is known as the Laos Secret War, and dropped more than 270 million cluster bombs on Laos in a nine-year period, making Laos the most bombed country per capita. During which my dad went to Catholic school in the morning and then to public school in the

afternoon. Many families sent their children to Catholic school so they could be fed due to the overwhelming poverty at the time. France had integrated Laos into French Indochina many decades prior, building many Catholic churches and schools. Thus converting a portion of the country from Buddhism to Catholicism. The school my father went to also taught the children Muay Thai as part of the curriculum for some reason. As my father studied and trained for a few years, the conflict was starting

to spread closer to his village and tension was building with the people there. My dad was around ten at this time, I should also mention that my grandfather was a horrifying and abusive man. He was short and stocky, covered in tattoos of the Naga from head to toe. The Naga is a demigod-se serpent that is worshipped in Lao culture, said to reside in the Mekong River. All 24 of the children were his but split between three wives, which was sort of the norm at the time in Laos. My grandfather was seen as a powerful man in the village because of his abundance of sons. At the time you could just go and claim land with manpower alone, so my grandfather and his sons would go and claim rice fields for themselves. If any of his children didn't obey his orders he would punish them very severely, as well as punished the respective child's mother.

Intense beatings were the norm. As well as being farmers, my family were wrong. renowned water buffalo tamers. People would come to buy water buffalo and their meat, it was profitable. Once the conflict grew closer, buyers for the rice and buffalo stopped coming. This led my grandfather to turn to crime, crossing the Mekong River to Thailand to sell his goods, where he also began selling opium. Which was all explicitly outlawed. He forced his older sons to accompany him in the cover of night, risking all their lives in the process due to the nearby communist camps that would patrol the river at night looking to execute

any who tried to escape across the river, and freedom fighters crossing into the country to fight the communists. During this time, my uncle, a pilot in the Lao military, decided to escape the country. He was about 15 years older than my father and was married to my aunt, who is my father's older sibling. Sorry if that was confusing, they had a two-year-old son and did not want to bring him up in the middle of this conflict. At the time my uncle was stationed in Thailand because the communists were gathering up all the stray Lao government officials and members of the military to send them to work camps. My uncle hatched a plan to sneak back into Laos across the river at night and retrieve his

wife and child. Initially, things went well and he was able to cross into the country without being spotted and retrieve his family, but by the time they returned to the river of the boat that was waiting for them was gone, chased away by communist soldiers. So my uncle waited while hiding in a bush with his wife and their small child for days until finally, another boat arrived to rescue them. This act inspired more people in the village to try and rebel or escape, causing many unfortunate deaths.

My grandfather was explicitly against any of his other children attempting to do anything similar despite his frequent trips across the river. I guess he had a sort of, nobody can endanger my children but me, mindset. A few years went by with nothing major happening in the village, though the conflict was still going strong. My dad was around 13 at this time, and my grandfather became increasingly abusive due to the lack of money and food around, which led him to do one of the worst things I have had the displeasure of hearing to this day. My father had been tending the fields and hurting Buffalo.

During that time he had made his first real friend, a stray dog that he would often see on the edge of the village. He began to feed the dog with the little scraps he was able to sneak away from home, and the dog began accompanying him to the fields every morning while he did his work. The way my father described this dog and their relationship made me understand how much it meant to him. The dog became his best friend. They did everything together, and my father was happy for the first time in his life. Then one day, an unspecified amount of time later. My father woke up and was not able to find his buddy, he went out to the fields and the dog never came, he tended to the buffalo and the dog was nowhere to be seen. He finished

his work and returned home to find the most horrifying thing a child could see. My grandfather had the top half of his dog strung up on a meat hook to dry, while he sat and ate the other portion right in front of my father. My dad began to break down and cry asking him why he would do this, his father told him that he had seen him walking around the fields with this dog. He said that all animals are to him is meat and he was hungry, knowing that this was my father's only friend and that taking him away would break my father's heart. This event is what would make my father start to truly hate his father. At this point, my dad had completely renounced any type of relationship he had with his father and decided that he would take revenge. My father spoke to

his brothers and was able to convince a handful of them to help him take revenge for the beatings they'd all received and for the abuse of their mothers. Some time later they decided the time was right, they waited for their father to come home from a trip into town. When he did, they surrounded him, ready to take out all their frustrations on him. It was at this point that a few of the brothers started to get scared and back down, but my father was so enraged that he rushed at his father with a farming tool and the intent to seriously harm him.

Only my father was a thirteen-year-old boy, and his father was a grown man, strong from working the fields his entire life. My father proceeded to get the worst beating of his life, right there in front of his brothers. Everyone was too petrified to move and just let my father be beaten within an inch of his life. To this day my father still has resentment toward those brothers that he feels betrayed him that day. From then forward, the mistreatment toward my father only got worse and finally reached a boiling point. My father realized that the only way he could get away from this abuse was to escape the country.

This time he made sure only to tell the people he trusted. That being just two friends from the village who were a few years older than him. There were only two problems, they had no canoe to cross the river, and my father knew his siblings and mother would be punished for him leaving. Despite this, they still decided to go through with their plan. They spent the time they had after work going up and down the river scouting for the narrowest part of the river, and the parts with the weakest current so they could cross. The Mekong can be over a mile wide, or 1.5 kilometers in some areas.

The soldiers also only patrolled the river at night, as during the day it was sort of a no-man's land, and people were allowed to continue fishing and working on the river. At the same time, they were slowly gathering supplies for their journey. At some point, my grandmother started to put together what they were up to and offered to help them. She pulled my father aside and told him that she knew what they were up to and told them where to cross the river, as well as when my grandfather would be away and that they should steal his canoe and leave at that time.

They had a long conversation about what would happen after they left. Much of this conversation my dad skimmed over when telling me. My grandmother assured my father that she would be okay and that this was his opportunity for a better life. She gave him what little money she could without anyone noticing, and a handful of jewelry she had been stashing. With that the plan was complete. Some time later my father and his friends decided that the time was right.

They gathered the little belongings they could carry on their backs and said their goodbyes. They left for the river in the middle of the night while my grandfather was in the woods foraging for mushrooms. It was lightly raining, they made their way to the canoe and sat for a while to gather the courage to actually get in. Once they were in they were almost immediately spotted by a nearby patrol of communist soldiers. At this point, the fight or flight response kicked in, and they all chose flight.

Knowing that turning around and surrendering would lead to being sent to a work camp worse. So they all paddled as hard as they could away from the Lao shore and toward the Thai shore. The soldiers made their way to the edge of the embankment and began firing their guns into the water. Sadly, one friend was struck in the back of the head and died instantly, falling into the water. They had no time to process what just happened and continued to paddle for their lives. That was until my father's other friend was also hit, it pierced his upper back and he was paralyzed. My father started to panic and dropped the paddle only to be shot in his right shoulder as well, but more soldiers were coming up the river in a boat and

they had no time. Nearby Thai soldiers heard the gunfire and rushed to the shore on their side, returning fire to give my dad enough time to reach the shore. He touched the soil and knew that he had made it. Once they touched Thai soil, the soldiers no longer pursued them as they did want to start an all-out battle with the Thai soldiers at this time. The Thai soldiers began to escort my father and carry his paralyzed friend inland, but my dad decided to stop for a moment to look back. He saw the communist soldiers picking his dead friend up out of the water and placing him in the boat. My father still suffers from survivors' guilt to this day, which is what led him to do what he did next. The Thai soldiers told them about a few large refugee camps on

the border in Thailand, so my father decided to head towards one. On their way, they had to stop at an immigration center so my father could register as a refugee and get some medical attention. Once completed, my dad, filled with anger, changed his mind and decided to head to head. towards a group of Lao refugees he had heard about who had decided to form a resistance group to fight back against the communists. So my father said goodbye to his friend who had been paralyzed and started traveling to this camp alone. This camp was run by a Lao man who was previously in the Lao military until his entire unit

was rounded up and sent to work camps or executed. This man was the only one to escape. When my dad arrived at this place there were many young Lao men just like him, around 100, and many of them my dad knew from around his village. After feeding my father the man in charge explained that he was forming a resistance group, funded by the time military secretly, to go back and reclaim their villages from the communists and that my father could either join or be on his way to the refugee camp. At this time my father is around 14. My dad joined this camp and began his training as a child soldier of sorts. This is one of the things I only learned about my father very recently, so I don't have many details about this time of his life yet. My dad started by training with firearms and digging trenches around their base, should the

communists ever come to the Thai side. Part of the schedule was patrols during the day and night, my dad was stationed on night patrol where he admitted to messing around with an M-16 accidentally firing off about 15 rounds into the night sky, which awoke the whole camp, who scolded him and nearly kicked him out. My dad was at this resistance camp for little more than six months, during this time they orchestrated several surprise attacks against groups of communist soldiers, my dad detailed his feelings about what happened, saying that he always had severe anxiety every time they got into a boat to go back into Laos, probably due to the trauma he suffered crossing the river the day he

escaped. He would close his eyes the entire boat ride and only opened them once he knew they had made it across. Once back in the country, usually, groups of three men would sneak around small villages, looking for patrols they could follow back to the main camps to map out where all their bases were. When they had identified all the camps in a given area, they would leave and gather more men to come back and wait to ambush patrols in quieter, more secluded areas, taking away a lot of manpower the communists had. Doing this allowed them to sneak people out of Laos much easier, and they were even able to rid a few small villages of soldiers altogether. Despite going on more than a few of these missions, my dad is not sure if he ever

killed anyone. In the same way that he closed his eyes when he was in the boat, he closed his eyes as they shot into groups of enemy soldiers, probably trying to save himself from the trauma of knowing, or just from being scared. This all culminated when my dad was sent out on one of the scouting missions, only this time they were scouting his village and the surrounding area. They arrived on the Laos shore, and this time my father was more angry than anxious. They entered the outskirts of the village and hid, having been here not long ago, my dad knew where a few of the enemy camps were nearby, and also where they usually patrolled. When they stepped foot in the village, my dad was filled with rage and hatred.

For the first time since joining, he wanted to end someone's life. They continued further into the village until they were basically on my grandfather's property, which only pissed my dad off more. They ducked down into the bushes and waited. Eventually, a patrol came into view, and as they got closer, my dad started to lose his composure. This mission was intended to be a scouting mission as they were only a group of three, but my dad was so furious that he stood up and pointed his rifle at the approaching soldiers, ready to end them. Just when he was about to start firing, his comrades pulled him down into the

bushes, thankfully before they were spotted. My father fought for them to let go, but they held him down until the soldiers passed. They then explained to my dad that he wasn't thinking clearly. There was a nearby camp they already knew about, within distance to hear any commotion happening in the village, and that if my dad fired, they might have been able to kill the patrolling soldiers and get away uninjured, but there would soon be reinforcements coming and they would most likely slaughter my dad and his comrades, as well as the people of the village. Now coming to his senses, my dad agreed with them and they finished their scouting and then returned to Thailand. On December 2nd, 1975 Laos had officially been seized by the communist

path at Lao. Though it was over, the communists were still very hostile, making return to Laos for refugees impossible. My dad was distraught, the people in the resistance camp started to notice his reluctance to go out and fight, and he soon started to refuse. This was against the rules, as my dad had signed a contract to fight with them until they accomplished their goal, or died trying. My dad was on track to being punished when an older man who was in charge of some of the men approached him. My father had seen this man in camp several times and always thought he looked familiar. It turns out that this older man was a relative of my father's, he had married one of my dad's distant aunt some time ago and they moved to a village far away

enough that they hardly ever saw each other, and after the conflict got close they weren't able to come back at all. This older man told my father that he didn't recognize him either until he heard his name. They talked for a while and he proceeded to tell my dad that he knew fighting wasn't for him, he would surely die in vain and make the escape his mother created for him pointless. He offered to rip up the contract my dad signed and help him leave the resistance camp. After some thought my dad agreed to this and his days as a freedom fighter were over. Once he was out of the camp, the only option was to head to a refugee camp for shelter. When my dad got there, he said it was the most depressing environment he had been in. At least in the resistance

camp, they had a purpose, a goal to strive for and keep them from falling apart. Here, the people had nothing. No hope of ever returning to their villages, or seeing the families they left behind again. They woke up in the morning and lined up with the bulls the camp provided them, and cows with small trailers in tow were led into the camp hauling barrels of food mush. You handed your bowl to the person in charge and they would dish out your food for the whole day, you had to make that small bowl of food last for all three meals every day. At some point, my dad became tired of this monotonous life he was living and started looking for things to do, or ways to get more food.

There was a bit of a trade market going on between the refugees, as some of them came with livestock or bundles of rice and different vegetables. My dad quickly burned through the little money his mother had given him to buy extra food, and the jewelry was of no use, as no one would trade precious food for them. A few months passed like this and my dad started to make some friends, as well as reconnect with people he had known from home. His new friends were not the best influences, they inducted him into a sort of gang that would steal money and food from other refugees, as the Thai soldiers didn't care about what they did to each other. The word started to spread that my dad and his friends

were bad news, and people stopped associating with them. The only other place they could go was a nearby Thai village, but the rules forbid anyone from leaving the camp without permission and a written pass. There were a few problems with this system, one was that there was only a certain amount of passes to be given out each day, and there were thousands of refugees in the camp. You would need to sign up for a pass ahead of time and be put on a waiting list, but with the amount of people in the camp it could be months before you were able to get one. The other problem being that there were people who had befrived the guards and got to skip the whole process to get a pass, making the waiting game take even longer for other people.

My dad and his friends decided to go the faster route and tried befriending the guards, they started by buying alcohol for them and staying up late to hang out with them. At some point, one of the guards developed a crush on the little sister of one of the friends. They found this out and used it as leverage, telling the guard that they would for sure get her to go on a date with him, and he agreed to let them out whenever he was stationed at the entrance. From their things became much easier for them, being able to go into town and get supplies as well as just how having fun. Eventually, they found out about this Muay Thai fighting ring where they could earn some money. You had to have a sponsor or someone to vouch for you to be able to fight in

these things, so my dad kept showing up and sparring with people hoping to get noticed, and eventually did. He made a deal with this guy who said he would get my dad fights, and if he won they would split the money, but if he lost, my dad would have to pay him. Shitty deal, but my dad took it. He said he fought four times and won every time, which is very believable if you have ever actually met my father. Every time he fought, he was able to pay for at least one week's worth of food, two if he made it last. So it was worth it for him. After about a year of being in the refugee camp, word spread about a humanitarian aid organization

called Compassion International. They had a sponsorship system in which a family from somewhere in the world would send money to kids and adults up to 22 years old in countries in need. They would send some for food, education, and necessities, and sometimes, in the case of people, like my father, get the person out of the country." My dad heard about this and signed up through the refugee camp. It took a while but around 1978 my dad became sponsored by a family of five from France. They sent him money for all his daily needs and my dad began to do better.

Not hanging out with the same friends anymore and beginning to go to church. He would be sponsored by this family until he was 20 when they offered to buy him a plane ticket to anywhere in the world. My dad chose to go to San Francisco. He packed up what little he had said his goodbyes, and left for the US. He arrived in 1980, and once there he had to go through a sort of vetting process to be eligible for immigrant status in the US. Fun fact, the immigration agent that processed his arrival was in charge of taking down

all my dad's information and submitting the forms. When my dad told him our last name, the agent misspelled it, and when my dad tried to correct him, the agent just brushed him off. My dad never bothered to change it back so my last name is legally different than what it should be. He stayed in San Francisco for two months until he was granted immigrant status and able to travel elsewhere in the United States. By this time he had already decided that he hated San Francisco and that it was not for him. After remembering his sister who escaped all those years before was also in the U.S., the same sister detailed earlier. He tracked her down to Utah and got in contact with her.

She told him the story about how her family got to the U.S. after they escaped from Laos. My uncle being a pilot for the Lao military, knew some soldiers stationed at a refugee camp near where they were and knew that they had a helicopter. My uncle, along with some of the soldiers he convinced to flee, stole the helicopter and took his family to a safer part of the country where they would then leave for the U.S. Once there, they would go through the same process my father did and end up in Utah. My aunt agreed to take him my dad for a while until he figured something out. He slept on her couch for a few weeks until he knew they couldn't afford to feed him anymore,

as they were struggling to raise a child in a new country where they didn't know the language, and didn't have a proper education. Not to mention the racism toward Asians at the time immediately following the Vietnam and Lao's wars. So my dad decided to go to Job Corps. While there he would learn enough English to get by and studied to be a machinist. Two years passed and he left Job Corps and became a full-time machinist. After getting a place to stay and saving up some money, my dad decided to buy a car.

He went to a small dealership where he bought a car and drove it off the lot. Not even five minutes into his drive, the car broke down and my dad went back to the dealership. He tried to return the car but the salesman took advantage of his poor English and told my father there was nothing he could do. My dad didn't realize how things worked and couldn't read or write well enough to know that he was entitled to a refund if he wanted. So my dad took the loss and kept the car. He became angry not at the salesman, but at himself for not knowing the language well enough.

My dad enrolled himself in ESL classes to bridge the gap and hopefully get some more respect. During this time my dad became intrigued by bodybuilders like Lou Farigno and Arnold, and he envied the respect they demanded with their presence. So he began lifting in his free time and soon became obsessed with it, spending an absurd amount of time at the gym. He would meet a lot of people at the gym in the 80s, a few of them becoming lifelong friends. One of them was a man who was almost 20 years older than my dad. He was from Indonesia and shared a lot in common with my father so they bonded and he became

a father figure to my dad. He also met a man about the same age as him who introduced him to the world of powerlifting. Over the course of 10 years, my father took a lot of steroids and got absolutely massive, around 220 pounds at 5 feet 8 inches in his early 30s with a PR 5 plate bench press, or 495 pounds per 224 kilograms. He also met a woman and briefly married her to get his U.S. citizenship. Not really marriage fraud, just a mutual agreement between them. Things just didn't work so they split up.

At some point, my dad had figured out how to get in contact with his family back home and found out most of them were doing okay, though he didn't talk to anyone very often except his mother, and the only thing his father ever said to him was to send him money. In those ten years, my dad transitioned to working in real estate and owned a few houses and a couple of cars. He was finally prospering and doing better than he ever could have imagined he would all those years ago when he was a farmer in the war-torn jungle. It was now the 90s, my dad had a lot of friends, and things were looking good. My dad spent a lot of years partying and just enjoying his

life. The man from Indonesia brought my dad in as a member of his family, so he would spend all holidays split between that family and his sister's family. My father decided to quit his job as a real estate agent and work with the man from Indonesia, who owned a successful auto recovery company, so my dad became a tow truck driver. I know, a crazy person. I know, a crazy career change, but my dad ended up buying the company and turned it from just successful to thriving. More years went by and through mutual friends, my dad befriended a woman who he would know for many more years as she went through a failed marriage and had two boys. My dad ended up helping her out as she was essentially homeless with two kids and nowhere to go. He gave

her money to rent an apartment for the time being and she promised to pay him back eventually. Well, eventually turned into her moving in with my dad and them starting a relationship. She would become my mother, and my dad would become a stepdad and a father at the same time. She found out she was pregnant with me and my dad bought a home for his new family in late 1999. By 2000 they were all settled in and I was born. Then my dad got a call from his mother letting him know his father had died. My dad got on a flight back to Laos to attend his funeral, and this would be the first time he had been back to Laos in 20 years. When he arrived, he immediately felt out of place, gone for so long not speaking his native time.

tongue, he lost a lot of his vocabulary. He came back to Laos to see his family and help them with the expenses, but deep down he had some unfinished business with his father that he felt he couldn't resolve without returning to say goodbye. My dad spent only one short week there, seeing all the family he left behind, attending the funeral ceremonies, and spending time with his mother. He found out that the friend who was paralyzed in the escape attempt was still alive and living in France with some family. After everything, my father felt there was nothing left there for him, and returned to the U.S. and his family. That concludes everything I know about my dad, other than the hymn that I knew growing up, and the parts he either left out,

forgot, or just weren't important. Overall, I think that my dad had a very intense life growing up and that his story deserves to be told. If you made it this far, please tell me what you think about it, and whether this is something you would consider interesting enough to be adapted into a larger, more detailed work. Thank you for reading. Hi, guys, this is, like my first story so please if you may give constructive criticism after you completely read the story in joy. Once upon a time, there was a daughter.

Who thought that she was neglected, after her mother died, her father had started to take care of her? She absolutely hated him and would refuse to respect him. She would act nonchalantly when addressing him it was her way of saying, that she doesn't know him nor does she recognize him as her parent. She despised him so much, so just to get away from him she studied and studied to finally leave him and live her life, once she became a young adult at the age of 18 years. Her father worked as a bartender at a bar.

One day after her mother had died and about five months had passed, he came home drunk and brought home a woman from the bar saying she was his co-worker. Her heart sank, the thought that her father had already gotten over the death of her mother even though she died because of her father's mistake, disgusted her. The woman was trying to talk to her the whole time she was there, bringing up any conversation starter she could think of to talk to the little girl. Her father had gone ahead and passed out drunk in a separate room later once it was late at night the woman left after preparing food for the kid.

She tried to call her grandparents, Mom sighed. They told her that they couldn't talk to her now as they were out to travel the country on a pilgrimage she was only seven at the time. About a year later her father remarried to the woman, the daughter did not like this. One day when the woman was trying to help the girl change clothes, the girl accidentally pushed the woman and the woman had a hot pot that she was cooking fall on her. She was immediately hospitalized and was all okay but, that was the last she saw of the woman. About two years later, she realized what had happened properly and that the woman had divorced

her father then. But he girl was weirdly happy as she thought that it serves her father right for trying to replace her kind mother with some nobody. Later when the girl was in high school one of her friends asked her whether her father will be coming for her graduation ceremony, she doesn't reply any. ignores her friend for saying that. At that point the person she hated most wasn't some school bully of some scary teacher like most high schoolers. It was a person that had been at home her very own father, but it was justified as after all, he was the one that caused her grief.

At the day of the graduation, her day was going fairly well for her until her father showed up saying he heard from a guest that today was her graduation. He was wearing some shabby casual clothes for someone coming for a graduation. Her friends later kept teasing her about the clothes her father war at her graduation even the teachers reprimanded her about it. Later the girl got a law degree and became a famous lawyer by the young age of only 25 she was known as a genius lawyer that could win any case. After fixing her life with saving money up, she found someone he was what many would call a corporate slave working overtime for months and working hard. He was working in a well-known company as a head so he had a sense of responsibility for his work. He met her in a bus

returning from a water park on Sunday they sat in the same row and got to know each other and they kept contact for about a month and decided to start dating after dating. The kept dating had quarrels broke up, got back together and repeat for three years after they decided to get married, they booked a nice banquet hall. Over the years the girl's father had tried to keep contact with her, but she wouldn't pick up any calls made by him. She did not like even the sight of him, both her and her husband to be new of his wrongdoings, and they decided to not to invite him to their wedding, as it was their day and they didn't want anyone unpleasant there, but they invited her grandparents to the wedding. On the day of the wedding the girl's father showed

up with her grandparents when the couple saw him trying to enter saying that he wanted to meet his daughter. They went up to him and before he could say a thing they told him to leave the place as he wasn't invited to the wedding after a minute of silence he tried to say something but saw his daughter's look of utter disappointment and left when he got to the road his daughter shouted at him that he ruined her childhood and now her wedding and that she hated him very much and that she suffered so much because of him. He stopped and looked back and was about to say something when. I'm sore dash, thud, a truck with a sleeping driver rammed over him, everyone was in shock. Someone called the ambulance and he was immediately hospitalized,

the doctors did the best they could and saved his life, but due to damage to his brain he fell into a deep slumber, a coma. His daughter visited him once to see how he was, but she just couldn't forgive him after all her dear mother passed away because of him she had lost her and her childhood was ruined all because of him she just could not feel any sadness for his accident. The doctor came to her for asking for blood as she had O-plus. She thought that her father was now paying the costs of everything he made her go through. Later that evening she went to her grandparents to talk to them about caring for, the guy in coma, but.

Then her grandparents decided that this couldn't go on any longer, and first told her to care for her father herself, but she quickly refused, then they asked her why she hates her father so much. Then suddenly she received a call from the hospital and dropped her phone in shock and with an expressionless face asked her grandparents who was her father and that she received the call from the hospital that said that the DNA reports don't match. Then her face contorted in anger as she angrily asked them, to tell her with tears in her eyes and thoughts of why she suffered.

Then her grandparents said you, You're the one that suffered. And she suddenly hit a realization that her kind loving mother had to suffer that man, so she replied, No mom suffered more than me marrying that my dash. The grandparents cut her off as they say, that man, is the one that suffered the most, with your mother being the reason. The daughter shouted and said that there was no way that what they said was true and that he was the reason for their child's death so they avoided him as well, she said. Then the grandparents

replied that they couldn't bear it how much he was suffering because of their daughter's faults, but still not once did he make you repay him for what your mother did to him, he loved you dearly when you pushed him away, they told her. She said that at the graduation ceremony. Then they replied to her, that she said it herself that he had to come in a hurry because she didn't inform him. And that he was just a worried father and she was the one at fault. Then in denial she said, what about the death of her mother? How was that not his fault then? Then the grandparents started. To explain this to you let's go 28 years back before you were born. Your mother had confessed to your father one day, but he was already in a relationship and he was

happy, so of course he rejected her but due to that the we came into contact with him for the first time. Then one day suddenly our daughter, story is from parents' perspective, came home and told us that she was pregnant and that she couldn't abort it anymore as the date for that had passed and saved to why she didn't say anything before. She was just scared of our reactions, and what we would do. We, of course, yelled at her and said a lot of stuff, we locked the house and installed a tracking app on her phone just in case, she in the middle of the night left a note, saying that she couldn't bear it anymore

and that someone rejected her and now she was pregnant and her parents didn't support her, at all. They called the boy that was proposed to as she was at a bridge near his house, probably about to jump. They called him and he ran there as fast as he could even injuring his leg in the process. and when he saw her he stopped her from jumping and by racking his brain he got the idea of stalling her by talking to her. She surprisingly calm replied to him that she would come down to him, only, only if he said that he loved her and proposed to her. In shock, thinking about the unborn baby he decided,

then he let go of his happiness his friends just to stop her from falling to save not one but two lives that, the woman had put in mortal danger. Later in the hospital it turned out that one of the babies had died. She was going to have twins. Because of the mental state of the mother the baby boy had passed away without a sight of day but miraculously the daughter survived. Then while her parents and the boy were talking, the woman had set the boy as the father of her child without informing anyone and after that.

The boy's world truly was destroyed he tried to maintain friendships, but his girlfriend had told everyone that he was unfaithful and now he was even a father for some random girl's child they of course didn't know he wasn't the father and broke all contact with him. He was sad but just then he couldn't pursue further studies as he wanted to be a good father to his child so he started working as a bartender and slowly climbed up the ranks he had actually wanted to be a writer so he was good at storytelling and became famous as bard off the bar then suddenly the married daughter of listening to the grandparents story exclaimed that her mother died because she the grandparents shut her up and continued the story with a pale expression they said that she

died when she went scuba diving with someone not your father but your father thought about how much you liked your mother and decided not to tell you that your mother wasn't faithful and was cheating on him with some rich scum. She accidentally let go of the rope she was holding onto while going over a cliff face she didn't even know how to swim, so she just went down and down and down. Later the people actually found her within the time period where she should still have plenty of air to spare, but she had decided to pull the plug herself thinking she didn't want to suffer. Then the grandparents told their granddaughter to leave and to never return to their house nor was she welcome to visit her father, she deserved that

after all, she was the reason he was in a coma. All his pain, but he still loved her to the end. She was outed from their family. Then someone had come for a visit. The next day the news of the father waking up got to the grandparents and they went to see him, but, upon seeing him he had lot his memories and not any memories but memories of the last 28 years with close to no chance of recovering it. There was this one time, it's burned into my brain, when I was revising for my mock exams. My dad had just gotten back from one of his endless business trips and was watching TV downstairs.

The only place I had left to study was my tiny bedroom. I'd been at it for hours, locked in my own little world, trying to focus. Then my sister decided, out of nowhere, that she absolutely had to iron her clothes. And, of course, she had to do it right then, right there. Now, our room is small, so when she set up the ironing board, it took up almost all the free space. At first, I ignored her. She's always been a hassle, and I wasn't about to get into it. But after a while, I needed a drink.

The only way to get out was for her to move aside. Simple, right? Yeah, not for her. She refused, because why not? She thrives on making things difficult. I tried to reason with her, but she just kept arguing. I had no choice but to lift the ironing board to make a path. That's when all hell broke loose.

She grabbed onto it, pulling it back, fighting me for it like her life depended on it. Then came the threats, she actually threatened to burn me with the iron. I could feel the heat dangerously close to my skin. She clawed at my hand so aggressively that I still have the scars to this day. I screamed, trying to get her off, and that's when my brother rushed in. He saw what was happening and ran to get my mom. My mom took her sweet time getting there, almost three whole minutes. And when she did, she didn't yell at my sister, didn't even seem shocked.

Nope. She blamed me. She looked right at me and said, you know how she is. As if that was supposed to justify everything. As if I was the idiot for thinking I could just exist without being attacked. She told me to show my dad the marks. dismissive, like it was just another inconvenience in her day. My dad, for once, actually seemed like he might do something.

He took my sister's phone away and said he'd be taking it with him on his next business trip for a month. A whole month without her phone, that was supposed to be her punishment. But guess what? My mom, ever the enabler, couldn't even let that stand. She kept the phone herself and, surprise, my sister got it back. way before the month was up. Classic. Because when my birthday rolled around, I wanted to have a sleepover with my best friends. But I had to second guess it. Why? Because what if my sister attacked me again? What if she ruined the whole night? My birthday was already off to a rough

start, but I still went through with the sleepover. And, of course, nearly got punished for it. Because apparently, me trying to have fun is a crime. My mom has absolutely no control over her own daughter. It's pathetic. There was another incident, just as bad, if not worse. This time, my sister actually cut me. And not even out of rage, which would have at least made some twisted kind of sense. No, she did it with some weak excuse that I don't even remember anymore.

The kicker. She didn't even get punished for that one. Not even a slap on the wrist. My mom always says she relies on me. What she really means is, give your sister whatever she wants, because I can't deal with her. It's so messed up. If I ever push back, even a little, I get treated like the worst person alive. Meanwhile, my sister can scream at my mom, curse her out, say the vilest things, and all she gets is a

half-hearted scolding. But the second I so much has talked back. My mom makes my life a living hell. I've tried, over and over, to get my mom to change the way she disciplines my sister. I've suggested actual solutions, things that might work. She always nods along, says, that sounds like a great idea, but never follows through. It's all empty promises. My sister doesn't just dislike me, she hates me. She's told me, to my face, that I should just go ahead and una live myself. She's even done these creepy rituals, full-on curses, trying to make sure me and my brother die. I don't know where she gets this stuff from, but it's terrifying.

I've told my mom, again and again, and every single time, she just laughs. Like it's some joke. Like it's funny that I have to sleep in the same room as someone who actively wants me dead. I'm old enough to apply for a council house, but I don't have any money. I've applied for jobs, dozens, maybe even hundreds, but I can't land a single one. Meanwhile, my sister keeps doing these dangerous things, like leaving the front door wide open when she leaves the house. She knows I'm inside alone.

She knows my mom has always warned us about the dangers of unlocked doors. She knows it's a serious risk. But she does it anyway. And I can't help but think, what if someone broke in? What if I got hurt? What if I got killed? Would she even care? Would my mom?

All right, so this whole thing started when I was 15. Back then, I was just a regular teenager, edgy, dramatic, with all the usual teenage angst. But somewhere between May and June, everything changed. Everything spiraled into something darker, something that still lingers with me today. I guess you could call that the beginning of it all. I remember my first real breakdown like it just happened yesterday. It wasn't something that built up gradually, it just exploded out of nowhere, catching me off guard. It all started with a fight between my mom and my grandma.

That wasn't anything new, they argued all the time. But this one... This one was different. It escalated so fast that it felt like someone had pressed fast forward on a horror movie. One second, it was just a regular argument, voices raised, words thrown back and forth like knives. The next, my mom completely lost it. She started screaming, yelling so loud that it echoed through the whole apartment. It wasn't just anger, it was pure, raw, uncontrolled rage.

I could feel it in the air, vibrating through the walls, wrapping around me like a thick fog. My body tensed up before my mind even had time to process what was happening. It was like an alarm went off inside me, screaming that something was about to go terribly wrong. And that's when the thought started, the irrational, terrifying thoughts that refused to let me go. I thought she was going to hit someone. I thought it was going to get physical, and before I knew it, my mind was. running wild, picturing scenarios straight out of a nightmare. I could see it happening, could hear it, even though it hadn't happened yet.

My breath hitched, my hands shook, and my heart felt like it was trying to break free from my chest. It was like something had hijacked my brain, forcing me to imagine the worst. I wanted to hide, but I also needed to know what was happening. So after what felt like forever, I slowly cracked my bedroom door open, just enough to peek outside. And that's when I saw her. My mom, standing there, her eyes locking onto mine.

And the way she looked at me, God, that look, it was like she could see every single fear inside me, every thought that had been tormenting me, and she hated me for it. I panicked. Slanned the door shut, locked it as fast as I could, and backed into the corner like a terrified animal. My breathing was ragged, my chest tight, and before I even realized it, I was sobbing. Not the quiet, gentle kind of crying, this was full on, body shaking, gut-wrenching. I didn't want her to see me like that. I didn't want anyone to see me like that. When I heard the doorknob turn, I lost it even more, yelling for them to leave me alone. I just needed to disappear. Eventually,

things calmed down. My mom apologized. I said I forgave her. But I didn't, not really. Something inside me refused to let it go. My brain wouldn't let me believe that it was just a one-time thing. No, it whispered to me that it was going to happen again, that I needed to be prepared for it. And that's when things really started to change. A few months later, I started noticing weird things about myself, things that didn't make sense. I became terrified of loud noises. Not just startled, not just uncomfortable, full on terrified. Even the smallest sudden sound would send a shiver through my body, like my whole nervous system was on high alert, waiting for danger that wasn't there. And being alone in my room? That used to be my safe space, my escape. But now,

Now I couldn't even relax. I was always on edge, always staring at the door like I was expecting someone, or something, to burst through it. Sleep became a joke. I barely got any. And when I did sleep, it was filled with nightmares. Not the kind that fade away when you wake up, but the kind that stick with you, that cling to your skin like sweat. Blood, violence, fear, I saw it all, over and over again. Sometimes I woke up crying.

Other times, I woke up gasping for air, my heart hammering like I'd just run a marathon. As time passed, it only got worse. My anxiety became this monstrous thing that followed me everywhere. It got to the point where intrusive thoughts invaded my head constantly. I couldn't step into the underground without my brain whispering that someone was going to fall onto the tracks. Every time someone called my name, my first thought was that they were about to yell at me, or worse, hit me.

And because of all this, I started changing in ways I never expected. I became aggressive. Me. The person who used to avoid conflict at all costs. But now, I could snap in an instant. One second, I'd be fine, and the next, I'd be lashing out. And the worst part? The second after I exploded, I'd collapse into tears.

It was like I had no control over myself anymore. I didn't let anyone touch me. Even the idea of someone's hand on my shoulder made my skin crawl. And the one time my mom did touch me, completely out of nowhere. I lost it. I broke down so badly that she literally stepped away from me like I was something dangerous. Like I was broken. maybe I was. That moment made me realize something was really, really wrong with me. My relationships

with my family started to crumble. I loved them, I really did. But something inside me kept whispering that loving them wasn't enough, that no matter what, things were only going to get worse. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want to be the reason things fell apart. But I could feel it happening. And it was killing me. Guilt became my constant companion. Every time I lashed out, every time I cried, every time I pushed someone away, I felt like the worst person in the world. But no matter how much I tried to control it, I couldn't. I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, just completely drained. And the worst part? I started losing hope. Hope that things would ever go back to the way they were. Hope that I could ever feel normal again. I'm still scared

of loud noises. Still scared of being surrounded by too many people, of feeling trapped, of not being able to escape. I tell myself to stay calm, to be strong, but deep down, I know I'm not. My mind is a battlefield, filled with endless what-ifs, worst-case scenarios, fears that refuse to let go. My hands shake almost constantly now. I try to ignore it, but it gets to me. But there is one good thing in all of this, I'm getting help. I'm in therapy now. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I think I might actually be getting better.

I know I still have a long way to go. I know that healing isn't a straight path, that there will be setbacks and bad days. But at least now, I have something I didn't before, the knowledge that I don't have to go through this alone. So yeah, that's my story. If you have any questions, I'll try my best to answer them. I know this isn't something people talk about much, but if my experience can help someone else feel less alone, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth writing it all down.

On June 17, 2009, two British tourists, Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne had gone missing while vacationing on the east coast of South Africa. The two young men had come to the country to watch the British and Irish Lions Rugby Team play the world champions, South Africa. Although their last known whereabouts were in the city of Durban, according to their families in the UK, the boys were last known to be on their way to the center of the Quasulunatal province, 260 kilometers away, to explore the abandoned tourist site of the Battle of Rorke's Drift. When authorities carried out a full investigation into the Rorke's Drift area, they would eventually find evidence of the boys' disappearance.

Near the banks of a tributary river, a torn whale's rugby shirt, belonging to Reese Williams was located. Two kilometers away, nestled in the brush by the side of a backroad, searchers would then find a damaged video camera, only for forensics to later confirm DNA belonging to both Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne. Although the video camera was badly damaged, authorities were still able to salvage footage from the device. Footage that showed the whereabouts of both Reese and Bradley on the June 17th, the day they were thought to go missing. This is the story of what happened to them, prior to their disappearance. Located in the center of the Quasulu-Natal province,

the famous battle site of Rourke's Drift is better known to South Africans as an abandoned and supposedly haunted tourist attraction. The area of the battle saw much bloodshed in the year 1879, in which less than 200 British soldiers, garrisoned at a small outpost, fought off an army of 4,000 fierce Zulu warriors. In the late 90s, to commemorate this battle, the grounds of the old outpost were turned into a museum and tourist center. Accompanying this, a hotel lodge had begun construction four kilometers away. But during the building of the hotel, several construction workers on the site would mysteriously go missing. Over a three-month period, five construction workers in total had vanished.

When authorities searched the area, only two of the original five missing workers were found. What was found were their remains? Located only a kilometer or so apart, these remains appeared to have been scavenged by wild animals. A few weeks after the finding of the bodies, construction on the hotel continued. Two more workers would soon disappear, only to be found, again scavenged by wild animals. Because of these deaths and disappearances, investors brought a permanent halt to the hotel's construction, as well as to the opening of the nearby Rorke's Drift Museum. To this day, both the Rorke's Drift Tourist Center and Hotel Lodge remain abandoned. On June 17, 2009,

Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne had driven nearly four hours from Durban to the Wharck's Drift area. They were now driving on a long, narrow dirt road, which cut through the wide grass plains. The scenery around these plains appears very barren, dispersed only by thin, solitary trees and onlooked from the distance by faraway hills. Further down the road, the pair passed several isolated shandy farms and traditional thatchedroof huts. Although people clearly resided here, as along this route, they had already passed two

small fields containing cattle, they saw no inhabitants whatsoever. Ten minutes later, up the bending road, they finally reached the entrance of the abandoned tourist center. Getting out of their Jeep for hire, they make their way through the entrance towards the museum building, nestled on the base of a large hill. Approaching the abandoned center, what they see is an old stone building exposed by weathered white paint, and a red, rusty-den roof supported by old wooden pillars. Entering the porch of the building, they find that the walls to each side of the door are displayed with five wooden tribal masks, each depicting a predatory animal-like face. At first glance, both Reese and Bradley believe this

to have originally been part of the tourist center. But as Reese further inspects the masks the masks, he realizes the wood there made from appears far younger, speculating that they were put here only recently. Upon trying to enter, they quickly realized the door to the museum is locked. Handing over the video camera to Reese, Bradley approaches the door to try and kick it open. Although Reese is heard shouting at him to stop, after several attempts, Bradley successfully manages to break open the door. Furious at Bradley for committing forced entry, Reese reluctantly joins him inside the museum. The boys enter inside of a large and very dark room. Now holding the video camera, Bradley follows behind Reese, leading the way with a flashlight.

Exploring the room, they come across numerous things. Along the walls, they find a print of an old 19th century painting of the Rourke's Drift Battle, a poster for the 1964 film, Zulu, and an inauthentic Isolangu War shield. In the center of the room, on top of a long table, they stand over a miniature of the Rourke's Drift battle, in which small figurines of Zulu warriors besieged the outpost, defended by a handful of British soldiers. Heading towards the back of the room, the boys are suddenly startled. Shining the flashlight against the back wall, the light reveals three mannequins dressed in

redcoat uniforms, worn by the British soldiers at Rourke's Drift. It is apparent from the footage that both Reese and Bradley are made uncomfortable by these mannequins, the faces of which appear ghostly in their stiffness. Feeling as though they have seen enough, the boys then decide to exit the museum. Back outside the porch, the boys make their way down towards a tall, white stone structure. Upon reaching it, the structure is revealed to be a memorial for the soldiers who died during the battle. Reese, seemingly interested in the memorial, studies down the list of names. Taking the video camera from Bradley, Reese films up close to one name in particular. The name he finds reads, Williams.

J., from what we hear of the boys' conversation, Private John Williams was apparently Reese four-time great-grandfather. Leaving a wreath of red poppies down by the memorial, the boys then make their way back to the Jeep, before heading down the road from which they came. Twenty minutes later down a dirt trail, they stop outside the abandoned grounds of the Rourke's Drift Hotel Lodge. Located at the base of Sinkindi Mountain, the hotel consists of three circular orange buildings, topped with thatched roofs. Now walking among the grounds of the hotel, the cracked pavement

has given way to vegetation. The windows of the three buildings have been bordered up, and the thatched roofs have already begun to fall apart. Now approaching the larger of the three buildings, the pair are alerted by something the footage cannot see. From the unsteady footage, the silhouette of a young boy, no older than ten, can now be seen hiding amongst the shade. Realizing they're not alone on these grounds, Reese calls out, hello, to the boy. Seemingly frightened, the young boy comes out of hiding, only to run away behind the curve of the building. Although they originally planned on exploring the hotel's interior, it appears this young boy's presence was enough for the two to call it a day. Heading back towards their Jeep, the sound of Reese's voice can then be heard bellowing, as he runs over to one of the vehicle's front tires.

Bradley soon joins him, camera in hand, to find that every one of the Jeep's tires has been emptied of air, and upon further inspection, the boys find multiple stab holes in each of them. Realizing someone must have slashed their tires while they explored the hotel grounds, the pair searched frantically around the Jeep for evidence. What they find is a trail of small bare footprints leading away into the brush, footprints appearing to belong to a young child, no older than the boy they had just seen on the grounds. Initially believing this boy to be the culprit, they soon realized this wasn't possible, as the boy would have had to be in two places at once.

Further theorizing the scene, they concluded that the young boy they saw may well have been acting as a decoy, while another carried out the act before disappearing into the brush, now leaving the two of them stranded. With no phone signal in the area to call for help, Reese and Bradley were left panicking over what they should do. Without any other options, the pair realized they had to walk on foot back up the trail and try to find help from one of the shanty farms. However, the day had already turned to evening, and Bradley refused to be outside this area after dark. Arguing over what they were going to do, the boys decide they would sleep in the jeep overnight, and by morning, they would walk to one of the shanty farms and find help. As the day drew closer to midnight, the boys had been inside their Jeep for hours. The outside night was so dark by now that they couldn't see a single shred of scenery, accompanied only by dead silence. To distract themselves from how anxious they both felt, Reese and Bradley talk about numerous subjects, from their lives back home in the UK, to who they thought would win the upcoming rugby game,

that they were now probably going to miss. Later on, the footage quickly resumes, and among the darkness inside the Jeep, a pair of bright vehicle headlights are now shining through the windows. Unsure to who this is, the boys ask each other what they should do. Trying to stay hidden out of fear, they then hear someone get out of the vehicle and shut the door. Whoever this unseen individual is,

they are now shouting in the direction of the boy's jeep. Hearing footsteps approach, Reese quickly tells Bradley to turn off the camera. Again, the footage is turned back on, and the pair appear to be inside of the very vehicle that had pulled up behind them. Although it is too dark to see much of anything, the vehicle is clearly moving. Rees is heard up front in the passenger seat, talking to whoever is driving. This unknown driver speaks in English, with a very strong South African accent.

From the sound of his voice, the driver appears to be a Caucasian male, ranging anywhere from his late 50s to mid-60s. Although they have a hard time understanding him, the boys tell the man they're in South Africa for the British and Irish Lions Tour, and that they came to Rourke's Drift so Reese could pay respects to his four-time great-grandfather. Later on in the conversation, Bradley asks the driver if the stories about the hotel's missing construction workers are true. The driver appears to scoff at this, saying it is just a made-up story.

According to the driver, the seven workers had died in a freak accident while the hotel was being built, and their families had sued the investors into bankruptcy. From the way the voice is sound, Bradley is hiding the camera very discreetly. Although hard to hear over the noise of the moving vehicle, Rees asks the driver if they are far from the next town, in which the driver responds that it won't be too long now. After some moments of silence, the driver asks the boys if either of them wants to pull over to relieve themselves. Both of the boys say they can wait.

But rather suspiciously, the driver keeps on insisting that they should pull over now. Then, almost suddenly, the driver appears to pull to a screeching halt. Startled by this, the boys ask the driver what is wrong, before the sound of their own yelling is loudly heard. Amongst the boys panicked yells, the driver shouts at them to get out of the vehicle. Although the audio after this is very distorted, one of the boys can be heard shouting the words, don't shoot us. After further rummaging of the camera in Bradley's possession, the boys exit the vehicle to the sound of the night air and closing of vehicle doors. As soon as they're outside, the unidentified man drives away, leaving Reese and Bradley's

Bradley by the side of a dirt trail. The pair shout after him, begging him not to leave them in the middle of nowhere, but amongst the outside darkness, all the footage shows are the taillights of the vehicle slowly fading away into the distance. When the footage is eventually turned back on, we can hear Reese at Bradley walking through the darkness. All we see are the feet and bottom legs of Reese along the dirt trail, visible only by his flashlight. From the tone of the boy's voices, they are clearly terrified, having no idea where they are or

even what direction they're heading in. Sometimes seems to pass, and the boys are still walking along the dirt trail through the darkness. Still working the camera, Bradley is audibly exhausted. The boys keep talking to each other, hoping to soon find any shred of civilization, when suddenly, Reese tells Bradley to be quiet. In the silence of the dark, quiet night air, a distant noise is only just audible. Both of the boys hear it, and sounds to be rummaging of some kind. In a quiet tone, Reese tells Bradley that something is moving out in the brush on the right-hand side of the trail. Believing this to be wild animals, and hoping they're not predatory, the boys continue concernedly along the trail. However, as they

keep walking, the sound eventually comes back, and is now audibly closer. Whatever the sound is, it is clearly coming from more than one animal. Unaware what wild animals even roam this area, the boys start moving at a faster pace. But the sound seems to follow them, and can clearly be heard moving closer. Picking up the pace even more, the sound of rummaging through the brush transitions into something else. What is heard, alongside the heavy breathes and footsteps of the boys, is the sound of animalistic whining and cackling. The audio becomes distorted for around a minute, before the boys seemingly come to a halt. By each other's side, the audio comes back to normal, and Reese, barely visible by his flashlight, frantically

yells at Bradley that they're no longer on the trail. Searching the ground drastically, the boys in to panic. But the sound of rummaging soon returns around them, alongside the wines and cackles. Again, the footage distorts, but through the darkness of the surrounding night, more than a dozen small lights are picked up, seemingly from all directions. Twenty or so meters away, it does not take long for the boys to realize that these lights are actually eyes, eyes belonging to a pack of clearly predatory animals. All we see now from the footage are the many blinking eyes staring towards the two boys. The wines continue frantically, audibly excited, and as the seconds pass, the sound of these

animals becomes ever louder, gaining towards them. The continued wines and cackles become so loud that the footage again becomes distorted, before cutting out for a final time. To this day, more than a decade later, the remains of both Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne have yet to be found. From the evidence described in the footage, authorities came to the conclusion that whatever these animals were, they have been responsible for both of the boy's disappearances. But why the bodies of the boys have yet to be found, still remains a mystery.

Zoologists who reviewed the footage determined that the wines and cackles could only have come from one species known to South Africa. African wild dogs. What further supports this assessment, is that when the remains of the construction workers were autopsied back in the 90s, teeth marks left by the scavengers were also identified as belonging to African wild dogs. However, this only leaves more questions than answers. Although there are African wild dogs in the Quasulu-Natal province, particularly at the Shluslaue-Imfalozies game reserve, no populations whatsoever of African wild dogs have been known to roam around the Warx Drift area. In fact, there are no more than 650 wild dogs left in South Africa.

So how a pack of these animals have managed to roam undetected around the Rorke's drift area for two decades, has only baffled zoologists and experts alike. As for the mysterious driver who left the boys to their fate, a full investigation was carried out to find him. Upon interviewing several farmers and residents around the area, authorities could not find a single person who matched what they knew of the driver's description, confirmed by Reese and Bradley in the footage, a late-50-to-mid-60-year-old Caucasian male. When these residents were asked if they knew a man of this description, every one of them gave the same answer. There were no white men known to live in or around the Rourke's drift area.

Upon releasing details of the footage to the public, many theories have been acquired over the years, both plausible and extravagant. The most plausible theory is that whoever this mystery driver was, he had helped the local residents of Rourke's drift in abducting the seven construction workers, before leaving their bodies to the scavengers. If this theory is to be believed, then the purpose of this crime may have been to bring a halt

to any plans for tourism in the area. When it comes to Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne, two British tourists, it's believed the same operation was carried out on them, leaving the boys to die in the wilderness and later disposing of the bodies. Although this may be the most plausible theory, several ends are still left untied. If the bodies were disposed of, why did they leave Reese Rugby shirt?

More importantly, why did they leave the video camera with the footage? If the unknown driver, or the Rorke's Drift residents were responsible for the boys' disappearances, surely they wouldn't have left any clear evidence of the crime. One of the more outlandish theories, and one particularly intriguing to paranormal communities, is that Rorke's Drift is haunted by the spirits of the Zulu warriors who died in the battle. Spirits that take on the form of wild animals, forever trying to rid their enemies from their land. In order to appease these spirits, theorists have suggested that the residents may have abducted outsiders, only to leave them to the fate of the spirits. Others have

suggested that the residents are themselves shapeshifters, and when outsiders come and disturb their way of life, they transform into predatory animals and kill them. Despite the many theories as to what happened to Reese Williams and Bradley Cawthorne, the circumstances of their deaths and disappearances remain a mystery to this day. The culprits involved are yet to be identified, whether that be human, animal, or something else. We may never know what really happened to these boys, and just like the many dark mysteries of the world, we may never know what evil still lies inside of Rourke's Drift, South Africa. The time was ticking forward, and Tracy Roberts began appearing everywhere. She was on the radio, the TV, in magazines, and newspapers.

Practically everyone saw her as a hero. Here was a mother. of three who had found strength in the most desperate of situations to save her children's lives. A mother willing to pick up a gun and shoot a man who likely intended to harm her kids. But the police? They weren't so sure. This story, the one that captivated the nation, had some puzzling parts that just didn't add up. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the beginning of the incident. It all started on the evening of December 13, 2001, in Iowa, USA. For the Roberts family, that evening seemed like it would be just another ordinary day. Michael Roberts, the father, was away on a business trip.

Tracy, his wife, was at home with their three kids, Bert, aged 11, Noah, three, and Baby May, just one year old. Around 6 p.m., Tracy and the kids went upstairs. Bert and Noah settled into a room to watch cartoons, while Tracy carried May to the bathroom for a bath. About half an hour later, Tracy heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. At first, she thought it was Michael back early from his trip. She called his name, once, twice, but there was no answer.

The footsteps, however, continued. That's when a cold realization hit her, these footsteps didn't sound like Michaels. Could it be an intruder? Acting swiftly, Tracy dried off May and bolted down the hall to Bert and Noah's room. She placed May on the bed and instructed Bert to lock the door and not open it no matter what he heard. What happened next would spark one of the most controversial stories in recent American history. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the attack. As soon as Bert locked the door, Tracy was attacked from behind by a stranger. She never saw his face, only felt his grip as he dragged

her down the hallway. Thinking quickly, she used her body weight to slam him repeatedly against the wall. After several hard hits, he released her. But in the struggle, Tracy lost her glasses, leaving her vision blurry. Desperate, she bent down to retrieve them, only to feel a pair of stockings being wrapped tightly around her neck. The man was strangling her with all his strength. Everything went black. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the fight for survival. Tracy doesn't remember how long she was unconscious. When she came to, she was greeted by the sound of heavy pounding, three loud bangs followed by silence. She followed the noise and discovered two men, one taller than the other, attempting to break into the room where her children were.

Their intentions were clear, and Tracy knew she had to act fast. Running to the master bedroom, she opened the safe. But this wasn't for money, the Roberts family didn't store cash there. Inside were two guns. If Tracy could get to them, she might be able to save her kids. Her first attempt at opening the safe failed. So did her second. On the third try, she managed to unlock it.

But before she could grab a gun, the same man wrapped stockings around her neck again, attempting to strangle her once more. In a moment of panic and desperation, Tracy flailed her arms, reaching into the safe. She grabbed one of the pistols, placed it over her shoulder, and fired three shots. Her attacker dropped to the floor, gravely wounded. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the aftermath. Shaking with fear, Tracy dragged herself to a wall and sat with her back against it. She then witnessed two critical moments. First, the second intruder, whom she described as tall and wearing a specific outfit, ran

past her down the stairs. She couldn't see his face but was convinced he was the man who had tried to break into the children's room. Second, the first attacker, who was still alive, began to move. Consumed by terror, Tracy reached back into the safe, retrieved the second gun, and fired one more shot, killing him instantly. When the police arrived, the house was in chaos. Tracy's story painted her as a brave mother defending her children, but certain details didn't

align with the evidence. Hashtag hashtag-hastag inconsistencies begin to surface. The police found no signs of forced entry, no broken windows or damaged doors. And nothing in the house appeared to be stolen. This didn't look like a robbery but rather an intentional attack. When asked if she knew anyone who wanted her dead, Tracy didn't hesitate. Yes, she said. John Pittman, my ex-husband, according to Tracy, John had been fighting for custody of their

son Bert for years. She claimed he would stop at nothing to win. Michael Roberts, upon returning from his business trip, was also questioned. Surprisingly, he gave the police a completely different name, Dr. Joseph Lasbeza, a former employer of Tracy's and a man with a troubling history. Hashtag hashtag the ex-husband and the former employer, Dr. Joseph Lasbeza was a dentist in Chicago, where Tracy had once worked. According to Tracy, their professional relationship turned dark when she underwent a cosmetic dental procedure in his clinic.

She claimed that when she awoke from anesthesia, Lasbeza was touching himself while staring at her. Tracy sued him, and on December 10, 2001, just three days before the attack, Lasbeza lost his license and was ordered to pay Tracy $6,500 in damages. The timing made him a plausible suspect. Meanwhile, John Pittman, Tracy's ex-husband, had his own reasons to be viewed suspiciously. Tracy had accused him of abusing their son Bert and fought relentlessly for sole custody. She had even requested $5,000 a month in child support.

Hashtag hashtag hashtag the neighbor. As the investigation progressed, another shocking discovery came to light. The man Tracy had killed wasn't a stranger. He was Dustin Weed, the Robert's 20-year-old neighbor. Dustin had a learning disability and a troubled past. He had been bullied throughout his life, had few friends, and often retreated to his basement to play computer games. His mother, Mona Weed, worked for the Roberts family and had a close relationship with

Tracy and Michael. But Tracy didn't trust Dustin. She claimed Mona had once confided that Dustin was unstable and could be dangerous. Tracy even forbade Michael from spending time with him. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the diary. The night of the attack, the police discovered a pink notebook in Dustin's car. Inside was a diary entry detailing a sinister plot. John Pittman had allegedly hired Dustin to kill Tracy and her son Bert.

The entry outlined specific plans and motives, seemingly providing the missing link in the case. But something about the diary didn't sit right with investigators. The handwriting didn't match Dustin's, and his mother insisted he didn't write much because of his learning disability. Could the diary have been planted? Hashtag hashtag hashtag a closer look at Tracy, as suspicions around Tracy grew, her past was scrutinized. Born in 1966, Tracy had married John Pittman at a young age. According to John, their marriage was tumultuous. He claimed Tracy drained their bank accounts and once threatened him with a gun during an argument.

Tracy, however, painted herself as the victim, alleging that she was only suicidal, not homicidal. After divorcing John, Tracy married Michael Roberts, whom she met online. Their marriage seemed solid at first, but cracks began to show. Neighbors described Tracy as volatile, with frequent screaming matches echoing from their home. Michael even spent a night in jail after Tracy accused him of domestic violence, only for her to later drop the charges. Hashtag hashtag hashtag the truth unfolds. In 2008, the case landed on the desk of Special Agent Trent Valletta, part of the cold case unit. The letter found numerous inconsistencies in Tracy's story.

For one, forensic evidence showed that Dustin had been shot nine times, not four as Tracy claimed. The bullet trajectories suggested he had been shot while lying on the ground, defenseless. The letter also investigated the infamous diary. Handwriting experts concluded it wasn't written by Dustin. The entire plot seemed fabricated. Hashtag hashtag-h-h-h-tag conclusion, the evidence painted a chilling picture, Tracy had likely orchestrated the attack to frame her enemies and paint herself as a heroic mother. In 2011, she was convicted of first-degree murder for the death of dust and weed and

sentenced to life in prison without parole. Today, Tracy Roberts remains a divisive figure. To some, she's a mother who did what she had to do. To others, she's a master manipulator who went to horrifying lengths to maintain control. Hey everyone. Today, I'm bringing you a video that's probably one of the most requested topics ever on this channel, the true story behind the Blair Witch. But before we dive into the spooky details, I want to give you a quick heads up. First, if you notice anything strange around here, don't freak out, it's just Shadow's feet, yes, my cat's little feet playing with Clash Royale. No creepy dolls moving by themselves, no paranormal entities. Also, if I seem a bit tense or on edge, it's because something pretty

surreal happened to me recently. I'm still processing it and am a little in shock. There's actually a scar on my finger that, honestly, I have no idea how it even happened. You'll hear the full story in a future paranormal vlog, but let's just say it's wild, and yeah, I'm still in shock. All right, no more stalling. Let's dive into it. So, back in 1999, the Blair which project hit theaters and quickly became a massive hit. It was an independent psychological horror film with a simple but terrifying plot. The story follows three young people who set out into the creepy Black Hills forest

to find out if the Blair which legend is real or just a myth. They want answers, but, well, we all know how that goes. Despite many people brushing it off as fiction, it turns out there's a real Blair which legend. And today, I'll be giving you the backstory. This macab tale actually began in February 1785, in a small town called Blair,

located just two hours from Washington, D.C. According to some historical accounts, Blair was a deeply religious town, a tiny place where everyone knew each other. It was a community of farmers, villagers, and people who mostly just wanted a peaceful life and to see the town prosper. But there was one outsider, a woman everyone shunned, despised, and feared. Her name was Ellie Kedward. Now, Ellie was known to be very strange, with an unfriendly, almost sinister presence.

She was old, lived alone, and had no family, no siblings, husband, or children. She existed entirely on her own, practically an outcast. Whenever she appeared at social gatherings, it was almost like an omen. After her arrival, something horrible would follow, a suicide, a murder, a disappearance, or even ruined crops and dying livestock. Ellie was basically considered a bringer of bad luck, and everyone avoided her. But even with all the fear and resentment, the townspeople didn't there confront her. They wouldn't throw rocks at her house, insult her, or try to get rid of her. No one wanted to be the one to anger her, fearing her, curse would befall them.

So, she was left to her own devices, until children began disappearing. At first, they'd vanish for a few hours, but over time, they'd be gone for days, sometimes weeks. And when they eventually returned, they were different. They seemed empty, like hollow shells, silent and withdrawn. Their parents asked them repeatedly what had happened, where they had been, but no one would talk. That is, until one little girl finally spoke up. She told her parents that she had been locked up in Ellie Kedward's basement, where the woman

drew her blood once or twice a day to make strange potions, supposedly to make herself young again. This girl's testimony encouraged other children to come forward, each one confirming Ellie's role in their traumatic disappearances. They described bruises, scratches, and marks on their bodies, as well as having their blood taken. The townspeople were horrified and quickly held a trial for Ellie, charging her with kidnapping, practicing witchcraft, and, oddly, with being Catholic in a Protestant town.

It was the first case of witchcraft Blair had ever seen, and rather than hanging her, as they did in Salem, they decided on a different punishment. They tied her to a cart and took her deep into the Black Hills forest, abandoning her at night in the coldest part of winter. The strongest men dragged the cart to a spot rumored to be close to Wolf Denz. They read Bible verses aloud, hoping her soul, even if undeserving, might find peace. that, they went home, celebrating the end of Ellie Kedward's curse, assuming she wouldn't survive the night. For an entire year, Blair experienced an unusual calm, a peace and prosperity

they hadn't known before. But by November 1786, their relief was shattered. The children who had once accused Ellie of witchcraft began to disappear again. On the first snowy night, the daughter of the magistrate who had sentenced Ellie vanished without a trace. A week later, the magistrate himself went missing. And from that point on, every child who had spoken out against Ellie vanished one by one, seemingly swallowed by the Black Hills Forest. The town's people began to suspect the witch had somehow returned from the dead. Fearing her vengeance, they started to abandon their homes, leaving Blair until it was entirely

deserted. The town's name wouldn't resurface until November 1809, when a book called the Blair Witch Colt was published. This book told the story of a cursed town haunted by the ghost of an evil witch. But the ending was completely fictionalized, according to the book, the townspeople had ultimately burned the witch at the stake, supposedly putting an end to her terror. As the years passed, the real events of Blair faded from memory, and by January 1824, a new settlement called Bucketsville was established on the land once known as Blair.

The town's founders were clueless about the old legends. But soon enough, the stories would return. In 1825, residents started claiming they'd seen a ghostly, skeletal hand reaching up from the water at Tapie East Creek. Each person saw the hand differently, some were frightened, others felt a strange sense of peace, but none could find who it belonged to, though they swore it had been there. Shortly after these eerie sightings, a ten-year-old girl named Eileen Treacle went missing. People last saw her near the creek, and though they searched, she was never found.

her disappearance, the creek water became foul, the fields that relied on it withered, and the locals started to fear a curse had fallen over their town. Now, fast forward to 1866. An eight-year-old girl from Buckettsville disappeared into the Black Hills while chasing butterflies. It's the kind of disappearance you'd see in a movie, a young, innocent girl wandering into danger without a clue. Rescue teams searched day and night for weeks. Strangely enough, she eventually returned by herself but had no memory of her time in the forest. She thought only a few hours had passed, while in reality, she'd been gone for weeks. To her, the townspeople's desperate search was confusing and shocking. While she returned, one of the search parties did not. More rescue teams

were sent, and eventually, they discovered the first group's remains at a place known as Coffin Rock. The bodies were tied hand and foot, laid out in a Pentagon shape, and had been brutally mutilated. Panic said in once more, and with it, the dark legends of Blair resurfaced. Parents warned their children to stay away from the forest, and mentioning the woods became a sort of unspoken taboo. After a long period of calm, Bucatsville was rocked again at the end of 1940 and beginning of 1941, when seven children from the town went missing. In March 1941, Rustin Parr, a local hermit, arrived in town shouting, I'm finally done. I've finished. Authorities questioned him, and when

When they searched his secluded cabin near the Black Hills, they found seven freshly dug graves in his backyard, each containing the body of a child. During his trial, Rustin claimed a voice in his head had instructed him to commit the murders, a voice that promised to leave him in peace if he obeyed. Rustin explained that a few years earlier, he had begun to notice a strange figure in the depths of the forest during his long walks. Whenever he called out, the figure never turned, only coming closer each time. As time passed, he realized it was a woman dressed in dark, flowing clothes, with long black hair.

Rustin sensed she was curious about him but would disappear whenever he approached her. Then, one winter, he began hearing a voice, a whisper at first, barely there. The voice grew louder, transforming into full sentences and eventually demands. Rustin described it as the voice of an old woman, speaking strange languages at times, and often repeating the same word over and over, echoing in his mind. Soon after, Rustin lost his sanity. The voice dominated his thoughts, ordering him to sleep in his basement for a week, go without food, steal things from the town.

Then in November 1940, the voice commanded him to kidnap two children from Bucketsville, and he felt an inexplicable desire to obey. Over time, he kidnapped and killed a total of seven children, sparing only one, Kyle Brody. Kyle was forced to stand in a corner of the basement, witnessing each murder without being able to help. After killing the seventh child, Rustin woke to find the woman from the forest standing at the foot of his bed. He couldn't see her face clearly, but he knew it was her, the woman he'd seen in the woods,

the woman whose voice he'd heard. She told him his work was almost done but that he needed to release Kyle, return to town, and confess. She promised that if he did this, she would finally leave him alone. The next day, Rustin marched into town and surrendered. Kyle Brody, the sole survivor, was traumatized and would spend the rest of his life in and out of psychiatric institutions, tormented by visions, nightmares, and the sound of a woman's laughter echoing in his mind. The tragic story of Rustin Parr revived the eerie legends surrounding

Bucketsville. But these tales were thought to be just that, tales, until a group of college students, obsessed with proving the Blair which legend ventured into the Black Hills forest. The group was led by three film students, Heather, Josh, and Mike. They'd heard whispers, local stories, and accounts of eerie experiences from Butkittsville residents, but none were truly prepared for what they would encounter. They disappeared, leaving behind only their footage, which would later become the Blair Witch Project. Though their film sparked a global sensation, locals still argue the truth of the Blair Witch. But if history tells us anything, it's that this story is far from over. I work at home for a call center, I usually answer calls and help customers navigate the

product and I resolve their issues. I have been doing this for a year and I like it. it. Recently, I have been pulled to help train the new agents coming on board and at first I liked it. I felt like my work had been noticed plus I could take phone calls after the class ends so I could get overtime pay. I, and another agent, let's call her Brooklyn was called in at the 1st of December to help another trainer. We will call her Megan and everything was good until it wasn't. One day the trainer just disappeared and me and Brooklyn were left to train the class. 32 adults and one of them was very disruptive, let's call him Dave. I am not sure what Brooklyn was doing, but I know that I tried to get in touch with Megan to let her know what was

going on. Anyway, nothing was done and one day the class erupted like a volcano. I was messaged by some of the agents telling me that the trainer said she would drop me from her class because Dave said I was rude to him. Other agents were threatening to quit because they felt like Dave was hindering their learning. Megan decided not to do anything but said that she would be present in her class. Another week goes by and she messages me and told me that she would be training another class and wants me to take over, which I appreciated because I never had a chance like this before in my life. I took it as a chance to show the others that this job can be fun. I stayed up Thursday and came up with a pretty decent lesson plan and was excited to show

them. Let's just say, it did not go well. Because the other agents did not want to participate, I had to use Dave as an example. Him playing the role as a customer and the other agent playing the role as an agent. We use role playing to coach the agents on things like their closing statements and guiding them through the tools needed for the job. While role playing, I would coach the agent on where she needed to go and Dave, wanting to be the center of attention, disrupted the class. Brooklyn, upset was trying to get him to be quiet and before an argument started,

I pulled Dave into a breakout room and spoke with him about his actions. I did call the trainer and DM her, but I got no response. I went on to continue for the most part and I was pulled into a breakout with the trainer, someone from HR and Brooklyn. Brooklyn was upset because she was told

she was getting dropped from the class, but I was to stay but I would only be helping one agent and that someone else was going to take over. I don't only blame myself for what happened. I mostly blamed the trainer because she was not doing her job and did not do her due diligence when it came to Dave. I also noticed how she put that mess in my lap and I led her, and when it was all over, I lost the confidence to hold that position

and also I lost someone who could have became something close to a friend. Also, I did go to HR and make a complaint about the trainer and what happened Friday. I'm going to ramble so this is for people who like to read. I'll provide some bulleted contexts as consideration. Last January 26th, his father died. So today, he flew from the U.S. to the Philippines for the funeral rights, etc. Even at the reunion and during our more than an hour-long conversation, he kept, humbly, downplaying his job there, unless he wasn't being truthful. But I knew that he finished his engineering program there and now works as an engineer, but he always said he works there as a janitor, a prideful job.

regardless, so I didn't understand why he kept using this as an example as his job. While I was biking, a car stopped me and told me that I dropped something in front of the lady traffic enforcer after I gave her some bread for Marienda, a random act of kindness on my part, I'm not a good person, trust me. So I turned around and I saw him there, walking. We immediately recognized each other. Automatically, I offered him my sincerest condolences and shook each other's hands, and he asked about what the man in the car told me then we walked together back to the traffic enforcer to get my thing. I thought I dropped my money, turned out it was my wireless earphone. I thanked the lady, and since he said he was just

going for a walk which I understood, probably to be alone with his thoughts, unwind his mind and see how things changed in a place where we grew up. I offered him company because he lives alone in the U.S. so I thought he could use a company for a change even though I'm probably the last person on earth he wants to be within a moment of grief. And also, I know what it's like to lose a parent, and when I lost mine, I didn't have someone with me to process what happened. So in that moment, we were sharing a space with the same pain losing a parent and despite having different experiences in life, in that moment in space, we were the same. So we walked. We walked and I offered him a place where they make Takoyaki. I said I'd treat

him. He didn't vocally agree but yeah. So we walked. In terms of social status, he was always on the wealthier side. His family has two houses. His mom, who became my science teacher, in seventh grade is a master teacher. They own a car. And he, together with the rest of his seven siblings are all professionals now. As for me, my college life, 2018, was cut off because I got incarcerated during the second semester of my sophomore year due to bad decisions. I'm almost 30 now and I hadn't planned on continuing or finishing my degree. All my life, I have always dreamt of becoming a teacher. An educator. But, not anymore. When we were deployed to schools for demo teaching and stood in front of a room full of kids, I literally felt that dream

leave me. I couldn't feel it anymore. It's like I lost a soul. I was literally and figuratively crashing there. It's like going through an existential crisis in broad daylight. I lost my dream. I've spent a lifetime trying to get an inch of opportunity to be able to pursue it and now I don't want it anymore. It was painful to experience that in front of pupils who just wanted to learn about verbs and even though I wanted to cry so bad and walk out, I chose to be a professional and finished the lesson. I was like, you have no right to feel things like this. You have no parents and have no money as a safety net. Existential crises like this is a luxury that you can't afford. But I'm only human. So now, I'm almost 30. And I'm still not a professional

just like him. Just like almost everyone from our batch. I thought I've already made peace with the fact that I have my own timeline. And that I can always go back to finishing or taking a new course whenever I want to, in my own time and pace. That I do not have anyone to impress. That even before Binnie came up with Buhei I. D. Cara. Slash life is not a race. I have long abandoned the rat race and not a part of it anymore. But when he learned what I do for a living, I'm a virtual assistant, VA, and sporadically do tutorials on kids, while we were waiting for our Takoyaki, he started asking me if I was really happy. If I'm not planning on finishing my academic degree, I am the listener type.

The therapist, of those close to me. And it's been a long time since I spoke to someone who actually wanted to listen to me. Someone who is willing to wait for my answer and hear what I have to say, without interrupting me. Someone who seems genuinely interested. So even if I was the one who offered him company, I slowly became the major subject of our accidental meetup. I gave in because I wanted to feel hurt and he had this quiet aura similar to mine

however as hours passed by after we interacted, why do I feel like he interrogated me more than he tried to reconnect with me as his high school classmate? That I didn't like that after being a sole observer in conversations for so long, I suddenly became the focus of the spotlight. And now I can't stop freaking out that I suddenly got pulled into the picture. am I being unreasonable? Am I just being overly self-aware? Because while waiting for our Takoyaki, I paid for it, it's just less than 200 pHP slash dollar two, he suddenly offered that I become his scholar. He called it an offer. He offered to pay for

my education. He said Kasi Sion Ka, which I tried so hard to decode as him saying, you had slash have so much potential and it be with such a shame to let it go to waste. But I took quite a slight offense even though he didn't mean it like, you're a failure. I didn't answer anything final to his offer. But he told me to think about it. I was torn between being afraid of letting go of a potential opportunity and being conflicted by the fact that after all these years, he still sees me as that, poor, loud gay kid who was annoyingly competitive, in high school. Because I was so far removed from that person now. So far removed from who I was in high school. And so far, far removed from the adult he met two years ago at our reunion. That

the disparity and disconnect from those past versions of me is so huge now. That I didn't know I was gay before. I was just feminine. That I am asexual now. That I don't like sex when he asks what it's about. That when he told me he finds it hard to believe I wasn't gay because I have long curly hair, wearing a mustard yellow beanie and a beige sweater similar to what Chris Evans wore in knives out, I failed to tell him a man can wear all of these and not be gay. That all these things he's saying were stereotypes. That I am no longer that loud person anymore because I discovered that I actually am an introverted person. That I just wanted to fit in so badly.

Even though I haven't finished college and have no degree yet, I am happy with my life. That I am happy but not content yet which I think is fair. That even without a diploma, I have managed to build a house of my own after working as a BPO employee for years without financial aid from anyone. That I have my own room now. That I can actually book a flight now and go to Japan or Baggio if I want to. That I can go to the cinema now. That I can buy anything I want as long as I can afford and need it.

That even though I am not successful yet by society's standards, I'm doing pretty well for myself after my incarceration. That I am not as helpless as he thinks I am. But I wasn't able to voice out all of these because it would be too much for a random interaction with a person who just lost his dad, and of course, it's okay to live a life others don't understand. After all, I was the one who offered him company. My goal was to make him feel less alone. But at one point, I couldn't help but tell him even though living in a small town can get pretty lonely and could feel like being imprisoned, sometimes, I enjoy having a slow life.

That a place like Manila where everything is fast-paced is not for me. I have a feeling he probably didn't like that input because he lives a fast-paced life in the U.S. And even though he agreed for me to treat him to Takayaki place, he probably just wanted to put me in my place, and remind me that he doesn't need someone paying for his food. So he offered to pay for my education to let me know that between us, he's the one glowing financially which doesn't matter to me at all. The feeling was there.

It was just subtle, but I felt it. The problem is if I'm just overreacting or being overly self-aware. That because I'm not used to people showing me kindness, I took his genuine concern for my well-being as a weapon. That all the sympathy coming from him in those moments were knives. And I felt like an open wound. Am I the only one who has experienced something like this? After not seeing your classmate in so long, you bump into each other then have a conversation about this section of life.

I want to hear your thoughts. I heard a man say once there are no mysteries anymore, and I would say he's right, not about the world, but about humanities knowing of it. These days we believe everything can be understood, explained. Maybe not by us, but by someone. As long as we find the right expert, we believe, it'll all make sense in the end. A comforting thought, I'll give it that. I used to be a cop. I'm not one anymore, and the story I'm about to tell is the reason why.

There just wasn't any more used to it. When you've seen what I saw, and pondered over it, you can't but come to the conclusion that the world is an unimaginable place, and no experts going to make a lick of difference. The only two things experts sell are opium and snake oil. It started with a supposed murder. Victim in his thirties, no rape, body intact save for his tongue cut off. Found in a swamp. I remember the night I got called out there because I was about to sit down to a warm supper when the phone rang.

Well, supper was cold by the time I got back home, not that I had the stomach for it anyway. I slid it off my plate into the garbage and watched the mess glide slowly down the side of the black plastic bag like a man's innerts, if he got them pushed out his body. I saw that too once, down in Mexico, and the whole time I kept thinking about the dead man's eyes. They looked like they'd seen God right before it ended for him, and the image stayed. It stayed so that when we looked we ourselves had to look away because it was too bright and too black, too bright and too black at the same time, the distorted reflection of some shining blinding void. It was only a missing tongue, gruesome, but we'd all seen worse, yet there was an anvil gloom to it, a nether fog hanging over the swamp

in whose every drop of moisture was potential of a word suspended, a putrid word none of us could understand, but even so we knew, that if these words were ever spoken it would be the end of all. I couldn't sleep that night. The peace had been broken. Not the peace of a comfortable life in good country, nor my inner peace, but the existential peace of a million years passed down generation to generation, the peace of covenants making possible the hope of human progress. What are we without that, as a species?

Rodents running in wheels, powering the unknown. How long had we been fooled into thinking this road we travel lead straightly somewhere, when in fact it is a loop, leading nowhere. But when one takes instead a cosmic perspective, that's when the line of the horizon becomes the wide and subtle curve of a planet and our understanding shifts. I gasped, doubting it was murder at all. I think the man had cut off his own tongue and drowned himself, because what if whatever it was he'd seen had got it into his mind to say the words that cannot be said.

I'd have drowned myself too, I imagine, for it's better to be filled with some. swamp water than non-existence. What shook me finally for my ponderous tossing and turning was a sound, of rattling, followed by a wet scrape. I grabbed a flashlight for my night table, turned it on and let the beam of light guide me down the hall, empty, undisturbed, and stairs, stepping carefully, quietly, as the sound grew ever louder and the fear in my chest became a pounding, until I had crept into the kitchen and saw, rendered by the harsh light, a cat with glowing eyes lapping greedily at the cold, dead supper in my trash with its pink and hideous tongue. For a while I let it feast then clapped my hands and watched it scurry out the open

window through which it had no doubt come. Although we didn't talk about it, it was clear to me that the dead man in the swamp had affected us. We skulked about in the weeks that followed, skittish as wounded animals that had for the first time realized their place in the world and were naturally terrified, except our wounds were not physical but spiritual. Physical wounds kill you or heal, spiritual ones fester, draining your essence until madness sets you free. It was midsummer and on the thermometer the temperature read high, but the days felt cold. The world felt cold. About three months later we got a call about a disturbance at the local mausoleum.

This happened from time to time, the usual cause being wildlife where kids trying to prove themselves by spending the night, but from the moment we got there, my partner, Schoonmaker, and I knew this was different. The mausoleum doors had been assaulted but had apparently withstood because they remained locked, and instead a nearby window had been shattered and the glass mostly cleaned out. Mostly, because a few pieces were still attached to the frame, jagged and pointed inward, these were coated in drying blood. We radio dispatch, announced ourselves, the words echoed within the mausoleum,

but no answer came, and entered. The interior was dusky, its sole illumination being stray moonlight filtered through unclean windows that painted the darkness in variations of gray, but even in this dismal light we saw that the tombs had been ransacked. Schoonmaker went first, I followed. Every few steps, I called out into the deepening silence. amidst the desecrations on either side of us. Bodies in various stages of decay had been pulled on to the floor,

the entire limbs of some becoming detached in the process. Cracked bones jutted out. The inhuman faces of the dead gazed at us as if in awe at their own disintegrating brittleness. When I paused to look at one, I noticed that its tongue was missing. Just then, a deafening sound, bang! Schoonmaker and I took cover. More banging.

Slowly and without exchange of words we moved forward to, toward the source, communicating by gestures and the panic on our faces until we came upon him, human but frenzied, wielding a heavy sledgehammer and wrecking crypts with it. We trained our weapons on him. Bang! Thundered the sledgehammer. Something cracked. I yelled at him to stop, to lay down his hammer and put his hands behind his head, but

he didn't obey. It seemed as if he didn't hear or didn't care. Schoonmaker screamed at him. No response. I screamed at him. Still nothing but the methodical rising and falling of the hammer. Bang. Bang, crack.

Bang. Bang, crack. Finally Schoonmaker stood up, arms unsteady in front, gun-ready, and approached. Police. Stop, he yelled so loudly his faltering voice filled the entirety of the mausoleum. Bang. Bang, crack. I fired a warning shot into the ceiling.

that got his attention, or perhaps it was mere coincidence, but he lifted his face then, caked with dry human slime, and stared at us, the heavy sledgehammer held in both his hands and his chest heaving. Put it down, Schoonmaker said. He dropped the hammer and darted, at Schoonmaker. I fired. The bullet caught him in the shoulder, pushed him backwards but only temporarily. He growled, gargled bubbles rising in his throat, escaping his dark lips, and came at us again.

My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I fired and missed, but Schoonmaker got him in the chest and this time he fell backwards, hissing as he tried to scuttle away on his backside but Schoonmaker was on him, humbling him, smashing his face with the gun. I was frozen to the spot. It was so dreadfully cold, so impossibly cold. I thought Schoonmaker would kill him.

Stop! I yelled, at Schoonmaker, at him, at the both of them fighting on the mausoleum floor, when it happened, He grabbed Schoonmaker somehow by the head and pulled Schoonmaker's face close to his own, ear to mouth, and after I strained to hear just the faintest trace of something said, Schoonmaker's body stiffened, he scrambled backwards, lifted his gun and shot himself in the head. Screaming, I unloaded. Then, silence. Broken only by the gentle pattering of brains dripping from Schoonmaker's exploded skull.

I lurched forward to look at the man, the thing, lying before me, vomited, wiped my mouth, and kicked at it to make sure it was dead. Its chest no longer heaved. No bubbles escaped its lips. Killed, it looked like any other man, but I noted two particular details, its tongue was missing, and stuffed into its ears were bits of rotting human flesh. Next I kneeled beside Schoonmaker. One of his eyes had been projected from his head.

Although still attached to him by some vein or sinew, it rested peacefully on the floor, gazing with the same black brightness as had the eyes of the dead man in the swamp. I don't remember much of the immediate aftermath. Flashing lights, a trip to the hospital, interviews and debriefs, being told to take my time and explain exactly what happened. Well, I couldn't. That's when I understood that what they wanted wasn't an explanation at all but a sequence of events. No one was after the truth.

They were after the facts, and once those had been compiled they brought in an expert, a clinical psychologist, who made a series of post-mortem diagnoses that added up to an illusion of comprehension. They also identified the dead man. He was an academic, and found among his papers was a series of notes, written in erratic handwriting, in which he made mention of, speaking in tongues, of being in communion with dead language and of belonging to a cult whose goal was the destruction of the ankloglossiacs. He was also in possession of an ancient tome on the topic of elinguation, removal of the tongue.

I was placed promptly on paid leave, apparently because I was recovering, I had, after all, killed a man and see my partner kill himself, but also, I believe, because it was obviously I would not adhere to the official story. When I returned to the force, the only officers who spoke to me were those who'd been with me in the swamp and seen for themselves the dead man's eyes. With them I maintained cordiality,

for we were mutually haunted. Everybody else kept their distance, and I gained the reputation of being mentally damaged goods, a cook, a suicide waiting to happen. It happened one night maybe six months later, dead of winter, that I got a telephone call from a farmer who lived outside of town,

a woman by the name of Cat Wilhelm. She'd called me, not the police, and was frantically pleading for help. Someone had broken into her barn, she said, and sliced the tongues off her cattle. She said she remembered the incident at the mausoleum. When I assured her I'd get a couple of officers over to her, she nearly shrieked that she didn't want them, she wanted me, because it wasn't the slicing that had gotten her spooked, she said, her voice breaking up as I listened, but what she had seen after that, the tums themselves scrambling about her property.

Some of them single-like, but others having joined up together, into a, in. The line hadn't gone dead. Her voice had ended, as if dispersed into sudden nothingness. Hiss. Then back, no, no, can you hear them? They're talking to me. No, no. They're talking and I can't stand it.

I can't stand it. The things they're saying. I cannot. Do you understand? Get away. Do you understand? stand. Away, now I dropped the receiver and ran outside to my truck. It was snowing. The engine turned, and I roared out my driveway towards the Wilhelm farm. Arrived, I got out,

noted the silhouette of the barn through the falling snow, and headed for the farmhouse, where the downstairs lights were on. The front door was locked, but a kick got it down, and together with the blizzard I entered. Looked left, stillness, right, the muted flicker of a television. At the stairway I heard no sounds coming from the upper floor. I crossed into the kitchen and saw Cat Wilhelm dead, fall into the floor, the telephone receiver lying beside her in a flow of blood running along the uneven floorboards from where she'd stabbed a screwdriver into her ear to where alone, severed human tongue was lapping it up. Her tongue. I tried to stomp it, but to no avail. It scampered away. I was about to follow,

when through the kitchen window I caught a flash of movement. Something big. Bigger than a tongue. Back to the front door, where the blowing snow was already accumulating like so much static, and out, into the winter night and through, in the direction of the barn. No call for backup. No second thought. Just fear, and the human desire for knowledge. I remembered the swamp, the mausoleum.

I remembered the moment schoonmaker detonated his own head. But was it the bullet that did it, was it the bullet or was it what the thing had spoken into him? And what about the swamp man's eyes? What if the black brightness continued in them not because he'd experienced, but because he continued to experience? What if death was no end? Straight roads terminate.

Loops infinitize. My boots crunched in the snow, like walking upon a field of bones. Here I was, my body shedding sweat. My mind expelling itself, it was upon me. From the dark sky it had fallen, from a snow-covered tree branch, draping me. How hideously warm it was! Covering my body like a blanket, heavy in squirming, in sliming me in its excretions, which ran into my eyes, burning them, and passed my lips and down my throat, tasting of unfathomable saliva. I punched. My god, how I punched its inner

side. It felt like punching a tenderized slab of meat. But the worst, the worst were the sounds, the utterations and disarticulations, spoken in a universe of voices, foreign, inhuman, some terrible, imploding my sense of self, my implicit point of reference, but others sublime and beautiful, imploring me to stop and sit and listen to their unworldly harmony forever, comforted by this steaming cloak of lingual flesh in the coldness of the enveloping snowstorm. What else is there but to listen? What point to act, to be? Why even am I? What should I have ever been? I opened my mouth, willingly, and licked it, tasting of its moistures. In response it purred, and its multitude of tongues fluttered in excited unison, massaging me, guiding me as down

a cosmic gullet. Licking, I became a descending bliss. Walls of organic velvet, I rubbed myself against them. How they caressed me, welcoming me, their docile pre, it gagged, an image into my mind, infernality from which there could be no escape, why? The symphonic melody ruptured into a continuous screech of broken strings and I felt that while I was sinking the tip of my tongue remained secured atop unnaturally extended and itself now vibrating, adding to the cacophony I tried to will to cease lest I go mad. Now upwards I shot, propelled from within the cavity, along the same oozing orifice through which I'd fallen and, melting of snowflakes on my cheek. The whirl of frigid wind. I was free. I was, consciousness, speeding toward

its focal point, my human body, gasping for air just outside the Wilhelm Barn, an impact, A self-returned to its physicality in space-time, I became reoriented, and perceived before me the familiar perspective of everything, including the lingual beast itself, like a twirling, inverted cone of writhing tongues, upon which I saw also my savior, a common cat, screeching as it clawed at the abysmal despicability. The beast was perhaps fifteen feet tall, rendered violently pink in the sweeping snow drifts, and the cat rode it, ripping at its tongue limbs. The beast reverberated, a living, or more, waveform in three, or more, dimensions,

and yet this cat, was it, I wondered, the same cat who so long ago had lapped greedily at my garbage, did battle with it. My gun lay on the white ground. I picked it up and fired. The bullets hit the beast with dull thuds, but nothing more. Unaffected, it began instead to gyrate so that its rose upon rows of tongues flared outward like the ruffles on a spinning flamenco dancer's dress, ejecting the brave cat and spraying the surroundings with sticky strains of vile saliva, which turned varicolored as they dissolved. The cats scampered off. The beast stilled. Unspun, it stood. Only it and I were left, facing each other, if one can ever face a thing that has none. There was no expert in the world who could have explained this

to me, only those who would dismiss it as the fiction of a troubled mind, yet I swear to you it was true. Everything I've told you has been the truth. I have presented it chronologically and in detail, the way your Encologlossiac mind prefers. Then like the cat the beast scampered off, although perhaps glided would be the more accurate term. Like a mess down the side of a black garbage bag, into the woods, into nighttime it went, and mercifully I was left alone, collapsed in a cold accumulation of snow and mystery, frightened, cowering like a primitive animal in the fragmentary presence of a god. I quit the police force after that. Like I said, there wasn't any more used to it after what I'd seen. Every child one day walks away from the sandbox.

Officially, it was one unsolved murder, a mentally ill academic shot by the cops and two suicides, all unconnected. Everyone put stock in what the clinical psychologist said. No one took at face value the academics' writings or my own experience. My life since has been quiet. I moved into a cabin in the woods and keep generally to myself. I try to keep my sleep shallow. Whenever I fall too deeply into dream, it comes back to me, the bliss, the terror, the language and the sounds, bursting as bubbles above the decaying surface of reality. I wake then with my hands covering my mouth. Because they're in me, these words. I have heard too much. I struggle to suppress them. When I look at my reflection, I see the beginning of a bright blackness in my

eyes. I keep a knife on me at all times, as should you. Don't be afraid. When the time comes you'll know what to do. Let the experts die forever knowing finally they know nothing. Let the expert suffer. I was just 15 years old when I learned monsters were real. That day, a Tuesday, I recall, I was a little later than usual coming home from school on account of joining the Science Club. I just recently watched Donnie Darko for the first time, and had become enthralled with the idea of time travel. As I walked home, backpack weighing me down, I realized I was going to miss the start of my favorite documentary series, and had to do something drastic if I intended to change that. There was a shortcut that ran through one of the yards in the

neighborhood, but I rarely used it for fear of being caught. The old man who lived there was generally belligerent, and if he caught anyone cutting through his property he'd yell and chase them away, threatening to get his gun. No one had actually seen his gun, mind you, but no one wanted to either. Perhaps I was feeling brave, or the thought of of missing my favorite show was too much, but that day I decided the time I'd save was worth the risk. After jumping the old fence, I made my way along the side of the house and into the backyard. I cursed myself for wearing my Triforce hat and orange vest, as high visibility and outfit as one could find. I was about halfway across the yard when I heard a loud splash

behind me, like someone jumping off a highboard. I vaguely remembered the old man having an above-ground pool which he likely never used, letting the water fester and bloom. The idea of old man Williams splashing around in that fetid water was both ridiculous and disgusting. And yet, something was in the pool. I watched the dirty water royal and churn, waves of it flowing over the sides. It looked as if an animal were drowning, and I stood frozen to the spot, not knowing whether I should run away from a place I shouldn't have been in the first place or run forward and help it. Time seemed to be rushing forward anxiously, the late-day sun arcing toward the horizon. The sight of the writhing thing that clawed its way out of the pool changed me forever.

One look at its twisted formation of limbs and bones and organ, familiar things twisted into new designs, murdered my innocence in an instant. Its grotesque face, with bloodshot eyes nearly popping out of its broken skull, fixed on me in one, chilling instant. And then it was chasing me, bones popping and cracking, shuffling and rearranging its hideous form. And it screamed, too, screamed a single sound at me, a word like, nah. The voice bloody and raw, the word sounding as if it had been turned inside out. My legs, heavy with the flow of cortisol and adrenaline, forgot how to work properly. I only ran a few feet before I got tangled in myself, tripping and falling to the cold ground,

dirt and grass catching me, backpack crushing me as time seemed to slow down. I fumbled for my stomach and flipped over onto my back to see the monster bearing down on me, a maneuver that felt as if it took a month to achieve in the new flow of time. I prayed for the monster to be gone, a prayer that went unanswered. The creature was still stumbling and crunching after me, each moment twisting it into new and increasingly painful configurations. Each anguished step it took slowed down the seconds even further, until it was nearly on top of me and I swore time was going to stop altogether. It only gave me more time to stare at its disgusting form, to take in the tragic details of its painful existence. And then, it was gone. Like a blanket

vanished from above me, nothing left but a wisp of black ash carried off by the breeze. It took me a minute to gather myself and stand, but when I did I noticed the sun was lower, moving toward the damp chill of night. Hey. Someone shouted, and I jumped, afraid the monster was back. But it was old man Williams, standing in the back door of his house. I ran from that place so fast I didn't even hear his threats. I was so happy to be alive, I took my punishment for coming home late with a hidden smile.

It took two years to see another monster. So much had changed in that time, from the divorce of my parents' to the loss of most of my friends. I've been politely asked to drop out of the science club, following my third attempt to recruit my fellow students in risky experiments. One of them, involving lasers and a gas-powered generator, nearly blinded my former friend Paul in one eye. Over time my experiments became one-person jobs,

either because no one wanted to risk getting hurt by being around me, or because their parents forbade it. High school graduation was a strangely emotional time for my first. fellow students, a reaction I never quite understood. They were either sad to be leaving each other or excited to be moving on, and sometimes both at the same time. I saw it for the necessary step it was. I'd been accepted to Stanford, and other than looking forward to using its state-of-the-art laboratory for advanced materials, I knew that one place was the same as any other. The only brief sadness I allowed myself that day was when I learned my father wouldn't be

attending the ceremony. My mother assured me it had to do with a delayed flight on his return from a business trip, but a quick search of his flight information told me the truth. The plane had arrived on time. He simply didn't want to attend. As I sat through the valedictorian's mind-numbing speech, the afternoon sun baking us in our dark red graduation gowns, I recalled the principal's speech to me as we sat in her office, explaining why I hadn't been chosen to be valedictorian despite my higher grade average. She nervously explained the other students' various accomplishments, including everything from event planning to community outreach, and I sat patiently through it all. She was relieved when I told her it meant nothing to me, that my parents

either didn't know or didn't care. After the ceremony it took me 15 minutes to find my mother in the crowd. She was wrapped up in a conversation with one of the gym teachers, and she seemed surprised to see me, as if she'd forgotten why she'd come in the first place. I told her I needed to use the bathroom. She wasted no time returning to her conversation with a man who hadn't said three words to me in four years. Only a few people were walking around inside the school, mainly teachers gathering their things, or janitors preparing the building for summer break. The boy's bathroom was empty, which I very much appreciated on account of my shy bladder. I picked out urinal at the far end, hiked up my graduation gown, and prepared to unzip my dress pants.

My hair stood on end before I got the chance. Time slowed to a crawl as the toilet stall behind me came alive with the noise of something struggling inside, something with popping bones and twisting flesh. Tie, it screamed in agony. Before I knew it I was running again, running from the things that haunted me. With each step time moved faster and faster until it felt like. a blur, a gushing river carrying me out of the bathroom and down the half-empty hallway, back to the beating sunlight, where the river slowed and returned to normal.

The crowd was gone. All my fellow students and their families, everyone had left and gone home, including, as I soon found out, my mother. I walked the 12 blocks home looking over my shoulder, checking every shadow, every corner and swimming pool for twisting, deforming shapes. My mother and I didn't speak about my disappearance, or much else for that matter. Each time I encountered one of the creatures, I became more sure of their effect on time. The closer they were to me, the slower time progressed.

The further I ran, the more distance I put between them and myself, the faster the seconds moved, until eventually they returned to normal. This wasn't some subjective experience based on my fear response, but a legitimate phenomenon, corroborated by the time on my watch. As if time itself were bending around the creatures. For years I thought about nothing but the creatures and their strange influence on time. I became convinced they were either from another time or existed outside of it. And so I learned everything I could about time and one's potential traversing of it. Black holes, wormholes, curved space-time, infinite cylinders, I left nothing untouched.

When most teenagers were in a parking lot drinking beer, I was in my room reading Carl Sagan. When they were arguing about whose football team was better, I was arguing about the Novikov self-consistency principle, or the Blinovich limitation effect. I breathed Einstein and devoured Hawking. Time spent in anyone else's company was time wasted. In Stanford, I had my first breakthrough with a rudimentary tachianic anti-telephone, though the machine melted before I could reproduce. the results. The resulting fire got me expelled from the university outright, no matter how much I argued and pleaded for the sake of the research. It wasn't the first time I'd been kicked out of an organization, and it wouldn't be the last. By the time I transferred to Caltech my father

had died, leaving me a substantial college fund, which was helpful since my mother no longer wanted me at the house. I ended up staying in one of the dorm houses, not the best environment for study, though it did offer the advantage of being a five-minute walk from the math and physics hall. My roommate, I didn't catch his first name but everyone called him Akins, was an environmental engineering student with an interest in both oceanography and watching horror movies at high volumes late at night. One particular night, as he was blasting a Spanish-language movie about a man with bloody bandages around his face, he told me I would probably like the movie if I paid attention to anything

other than textbooks. He practically had to shout for me to hear what he was saying over the film. I looked up from my textbook to tell him there was nothing worth knowing a movie could teach me, especially a horror movie. But just as I did, as I opened my mouth to speak, a face appeared inches in front of my own. It wasn't just mutated, but in fact still mutating. Like a puzzle box it shifted and snapped, the mouth contorted into an impossible angle, an angle that let out a single sound. A pained, gurgling, Nret, I screamed, and the sound slowed down in pitch and length until I could hear and feel each reverberation of my vocal cords. A moment later the disfiguring face disappeared. Blinked out of existence, like it had never been

there. My scream modulated back to normal pitch, and I found myself screaming directly at my horrified roommate. Aiken stared at me. What the hell is your problem, he asked. My heart thundered adrenaline through my veins. Eyes dilated and sweat beating on my face, I stared back at him. I don't think it's a problem, I replied after a moment. I think it's a puzzle. Just before I was kicked out of my third and final university, this time from MIT for disruptive outbursts, a classmate stopped me after class and told me she'd very much enjoyed my argument with our particle physics professor. He doesn't know what he's talking about, I told her flatly. I think he knows what he's talking about, she said, but not as much

as you do. She smiled, and suddenly I realized she was very pretty. Beautiful, even. I offered to walk her to her next class, which she accepted. She told me her name was Yvette, and as we walked we discussed some light quantum theory, at her suggestion. Energy disperses, objects equilibrate, she said, because of how elementary particles become intertwined when they interact. Entanglement, I replied, exactly. When two particles interact they can no longer be described by their own pure states. They almost become as one, like two people talking, I pointed out. Or even kissing, as suddenly as I'd realized she was beautiful, that was how quickly I realized what she'd done.

She'd baited me into speaking about entanglement so she could flirt with me. She was clever and cunning, and I knew in that moment, as we stood smiling at each other in front of the library, that she would be the one I would marry. I asked her for her phone number, the way I'd heard people do. To my surprise she took out a pen and paper, wrote the number down and handed it to me. I glanced at her hand as she did, and noticed a bit of string. looped around her finger. What's that?

I asked her. She glanced down, then back. Oh, that. Just a reminder about something I have to do later. You've never tied a string around yourself before. Her word struck me hard, like an apple falling on my head. In that moment an idea was born in my mind, fully formed and raging to be free. An idea that would push me toward the brink of discovery.

It was an idea, so electrifying, in fact, that I almost didn't notice the mass of bloody limbs running toward us. The humanoid creature stumbling and slipping across the great lawn that stretched out in front of the university library. Screaming in the daylight, the seconds racing by like a panic attack. I didn't look this time. Didn't want to see it. Tahn, it screamed, the voice slightly more human sounding than before, yet no less anguished. Do you see it? asked Yvette, my voice tight in my throat. She looked, scanning the lawn with a concerned expression. See what? I grabbed her arm, to pull her with me, to take her away from the danger lurching across the

grass. She stiffened, the fear pooled in her eyes. By the time I looked at the great lawn, scared to see how close the creature had gotten, it was already gone. The seconds returned to normal, but the air had changed. Yvette looked at me differently now. She waited for an explanation, waiting to give me the benefit of the doubt, but all I could do was leave. I'm sorry, I said, running off to the university lab. A future with Yvette had become an impossibility, but something greater was waiting for me ahead. The idea that was born in my mind that day became the new focus of my life, brought about by something as simple and elegant as a string tied around a beautiful girl's finger. A reminder from her past self to her future self.

A bridge between them. Cosmic Strings Narrow tubes of energy left over from the formation of the cosmos. They contained huge amounts of mass, and therefore could warp space-time around them. I'd tried them before, looking to the stars for double images of background quasars, knowing I'd find a cosmic string joining them. If I could just accelerate atoms fast enough to outrun a light beam around a cosmic string, the theory went, I could outrun time.

The problem was, no one had found one yet. They existed only in the realm of theory. But I had a new theory for where I might find one. A different kind of cosmic string, located slightly closer than 8 billion light years away. And so, I started building my machine. It went through so many versions I stopped numbering them. Variation after variation after variation. I borrowed and spent every dollar I could get my hands on,

using up my inheritance and my credit in the process. I secured funding from the kind of people you don't make the mistake of not paying back. If I was successful, I told myself, I would have more than enough money to pay them back. And if I wasn't successful, nothing would matter anyway. When the machine was finally done, I found the scrap of paper I'd been saving in a drawer and dialed the number written on it. Yvette? I asked. Yes, who's this? It's Alex. Alex from particle physics. There was a pause on the line, then, hey. How have you been, working? And you? Are you still at the university? Another pause. Alex, I graduated two years ago, right. Right, of course. Time had gotten away from me. If she'd graduated two years early,

earlier, how many had it been since I'd seen her? 3. 4. Did you switch schools? I lost track of you after, her voice faded out. I'm on my own now. I couldn't stand having to answer to people who didn't understand the work. She laughed softly. Yeah, that sounds like you. You're too smart for your own good, you know, I'd never been a skilled conversationalist,

nor was I one for indirectness. Since I didn't know what the decorum was for this sort of situation, if the situation had ever come up before, I decided to be as blunt as possible. I need you, I said. Your help, I mean. With an experiment, asking her for help was a long shot, but she was a fellow scientist, a seeker of truth, and we'd shared a connection once. That made her my best choice even if it was my only choice. What kind of experiment, she asked, sounding curious. I'd rather talk about it in person.

Are you still in Massachusetts? Can you come tonight? I'm only an hour or two south. But Alex, it's two o'clock in the morning. Time. It had a way of getting away from me. After we finished our conversation, I sat in the dark for some time, going over the calculations again and again. Just as I turned off the computer, ready to find my mattress and get some sleep, I felt the hairs on my arms and neck stand up. I didn't look.

I closed my eyes as the creature materialized behind me. I didn't have to see it reaching out for me, I could feel the dilation of time as it did, seconds becoming minutes becoming hours as it cried out in its inside-out language I'd come to know so well. Cried out a painful and haunted syllable. A bloody, choking, oud, my eyes opened. They had to see it. The reflection in the darkened computer monitor, it looked almost human, a twisting silhouette of wet, snapping bone reaching out in the dark, reaching out with rearranging fingers.

And then, it was gone. I worked through the night, preparing the machine. Human beings moved through time like an arrow. I believe that, as we do so, we gather time-space energy about us, not unlike a static charge gathered from carpeting. In doing so we form a string through time that should, for all intents and purposes, act exactly like a cosmic string loop. I turned to face my guest and added, I call it a time string. Evette stood in front of the machine, admiring its simple design as I explained how it detected topological defects. I appreciated not having to simplify the science

or be too succinct, as she had a firm grasp on the subject, and in fact asked all the right questions. But do you really think you can find an anomaly as small as a proton, she asked. Not to mention, once a loop is formed it's essentially doomed. It oscillates, radiates gravitationally, shrinks, and eventually, evaporates, yes. But if my theory is correct, they should behave more like Fortens, she pondered at a moment. A stabilized loop, correct, she looked from me to the machine. It looks pretty cramped in there. It looks pretty cramped in there. she said with sudden finality. I hope you're not claustrophobic.

There's no room for phobias in science, I replied. I built the machine to my exact dimensions. Nothing other than my physical body can be allowed inside. I paused. Not even clothing, she nodded, understanding my meaning. I guess there's no room for modesty in science either, she said with a smile. I showed her how the operating program worked, taking the time to explain every command and function as we sat in front of the computer.

I told her what to do in case of an emergency, however unlikely. As I did so, I tried not to think of the reflection in the monitor the night before. Then I undressed completely, laid my clothes carefully on the floor, and ducked inside the machine. Seeing it that way, about to be powered up with me standing inside, made me see the machine as if for the first time. A hundred dark panels were aimed directly at me, each one containing a thousand sensors running a hundred million scans. The machine was like the child of an MRI machine and a deep space telescope, though a masochistic one, as an electric current was required to hyper-excite the energy field.

I attached the adhesive patches to my body as Yvette watched from behind the computer. Maybe after this we can revisit the conversation about entanglement, she said. There's going to be an enormous amount of data to process, I replied. Then, realizing what she meant, added, but yes. I'd like that. I talked her through the startup sequence once more, then told her to close the machine door. There was no room in the design for an interior handle. She walked over, gave me another smile, and gently shut the door.

I gave her a thumbs up through the observation window. Then, a few seconds later, the sequence began. The only sound I could hear was the hum of the generator as the sensor panels powered up to full. A chill moved through my body. I thought it might be the unexpected effect of an oscillating magnetic field coursing through my nervous system, though I was aware that the much simpler explanation was nervousness. The fear response was an unwelcome though nevertheless predictable factor in self-expermentation. As I stood shivering inside the cramped machine, waiting for the current of electricity

to be introduced to my body, I was overcome with the strangest sensation. The dark panels surrounding my body suddenly felt like a hundred eyes staring back at me. Pitch black irises of an unimaginable being, passing judgment on me. Naked, shivering, I was laid bare under its intense, unblinking gaze. I pushed the thought aside, ascribing it to the effects of the illicit. electromagnetic field, a fear cage stimulating my mind, then prepared for what came next. The generator was pushed to its limits as the next phase of the sequence began. An energy transfer of nearly one and a half gigawatts per second course through the machine's energy

cells, drip feeding the current down the wires and into my skin, a carefully measured, non-lethal shock meant to act like time space tracer ink. My system was with flooded with electricity for just a few seconds, but it was enough to send me into agony. Every muscle tensed at once. My jaw locked shut and my body stiffened. Knuckles and knees popped from the intensity of the squeeze. And then it was gone and I could breathe again. My head swam and my eyes closed. I felt a rising ball of flame in my gut and then a sensation like fire ants crawling through my veins. I became aware of distant screaming, and I considered whether it might be my own cries until I realized it was a woman's voice.

I thought then of Yvette. Why she should be screaming, when it was me disoriented and riddled with pain, made no sense. I opened my eyes. Opened them to utter darkness. Had the fuses blown? Was the machine and the lab beyond it experiencing a power failure? It was a confusing development. The generators had fail safes in place to avoid such interruptions from occurring, so what other explanations were left? Had I gone blind? Lost all sense of sight. Had I done to myself what I'd nearly done to that childhood friend so many years earlier? But then I became aware of a shape in the darkness just ahead of me, blocking a source of light. There shouldn't have been anything there except a wall of sensors. Then the shape moved, letting me see the light source. It was a computer screen.

My computer screen I glanced around and realized with no lack of confusion that I was standing on the other side of my lap The shape in front of me, sitting at the computer, was at Yvette As I reached out to touch it, the skin on my fingers peeled back as if they were being punished for moving closer to the shape It felt like dipping my hands in flames Then my arms began to peel back too, the fire spreading across my body

as the flesh curled and tore away. I tried to scream, but the sound lodged in my throat. Then the screen went dark, and I saw the image in it. The reflection of the shape in front of me. My own face. Terrified of the sight of me. Locking eyes with myself. I was back.

Back in the night before. In one terrible moment I realized the truth, the explanation for the monsters that had been visiting me throughout my life. I knew what they were. I had to warn myself away. Stop the experiment. Tell me what was waiting the next day. I gathered my breath and opened my bloodied lips, already feeling the teeth shift and the jaw dislocate.

Do, blinding light attacked me. I stumbled forward, slipping on grass, my feet wet with my own blood. I was in front of the University Library at MIT. Across the Great Lawn, Yvette was talking to me. Me of a few years earlier. Not. I screamed out in the daylight, though I could see by the look of terror on my face that I wasn't going to look. A moment later the sunlight cut out, and I was looking into my own, younger face, sitting on my college dorm bed with a book in my hands.

I felt my body mutating, reconfiguring, like a puzzle box shifting and snapping into new, unrecognized. angles. With my mouth contorting, I struggled to keep speaking, to warn myself. I let out a gurgling, turn, as my younger self screamed back at me. Then he was gone, replaced by a dirty, metal wall. Locked inside a toilet stall, my arms and legs were crushed and reshaped like crumpled paper, an origami animal of popping bones and twisting flesh, and I knew, knew I was out there, my younger self, wearing a graduation gown and a look of terror. It, I screamed in agony, my insides erupting out of me. And then suddenly I was choking on dirty water.

Drowning in it. I thrashed to be free, fighting to reach air. I burst free of the rancid water and clawed my way out as best I could with my new, twisted configuration of limbs and bones. With bleeding eyes I stared out at myself, a boy of 15 standing across the yard in an orange vest, scared for his life. I had to finish it. Finish the warning. I ran after him, me, the boy, my bones popping and cracking, shuffling and rearranging my form every nerve alive with pain, and I screamed, screamed a single sound at him. On. He, me,

the boy, fell to the ground, backpack on top of him. I took the last few steps, barely able to move anymore, as he fumbled from his stomach and flipped over onto his back to look at me, to see the monster bearing down on him. The terrified boy prayed for me to be gone as I stumbled and crunched toward him, toward me, each step a new torture on my broken body. Then I was nearly on top of him. I looked down on his young, innocent face, taking in the tragic details of the painful existence that waited for him. Then I felt it. Felt my body erasing, an error corrected, the covering up of a path not meant to be taken. The pain was gone first, then any feeling at all. Sites and sounds drifted away, back to the void, the nothingness, the never-ending darkness.

The day my sister saved my life, this event lasted less than five minutes, but it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. When I was around nine years old, my aunt and uncle, both addicts, moved into our house. Although I admired my aunt a lot, I always felt uncomfortable around my uncle. He was, to put it kindly, the embodiment of everything negative one could imagine, extremely thin from drug abuse, with a shaved head, poorly done vulgar and racist tattoos, and rotten or missing teeth. He was always high or drunk and clearly not fit to be around children.

One night, my mother went out with my aunt, leaving my uncle at the house. Although he usually wasn't the one to watch us, my twin sister Cass and I were already used to taking care of ourselves and our younger brother, so we didn't think much of the situation. Cass and I were in the living room while our brother slept in his room. Suddenly, my uncle stumbled out of his room, which was right next to the living room. He looked at us with a confused expression, as if he didn't recognize us. Although we weren't afraid of him, we weren't about to obey him either. He tried to kick us out of the living room, but since we didn't have a TV in our room, I probably said something that made him angry, likely that we didn't have to listen

to him and that he already had his own TV in his room. He went back to his room, and I thought that was the end of it. But he came back with a pillow in his hand. Before I could understand what was happening, he crossed the room with determined steps and pushed me onto the couch, pressing the pillow over my face. Even now, as I write this, I can feel my heart pounding and I struggled to catch my breath. I couldn't breathe. I remember waving my hands frantically trying to pull his hands away, but I had no nails because I used to bite them as a kid.

I felt like I was running out of air and losing consciousness when I heard my sister scream, just before I passed out, the pressure eased, and I managed to push the pillow away, gasping like a fish out of water. Cass had jumped on my uncle's back, and he threw her off with a sharp motion. He looked at us with a cold expression as he staggered backward, then walked out of the house cursing. She and I quickly locked the sliding glass back door. We hugged each other and cried, sitting in the middle of the living room. We fell asleep there, wrapped around each other, and woke up when we heard the front door open a few hours later.

We ran to meet our mom and aunt, but they were both drunk, laughing and stumbling as they came in. We knew they wouldn't be much help, but Cass explained. what had happened. My mom, who was strangely affectionate when drunk, hugged us and started crying, saying how much she loved us, something very uncommon for her. That night, they stayed with us watching a horror movie. Surprisingly, they gave us a sip of liquor. I know it may sound absurd, but at only nine years old, we weren't going to say no. At 4 a.m., my uncle came back and started banging on the sliding glass door. My aunt, still staggering, went to the door and yelled at him to go sleep outside. That night, he didn't come back for three days. When he

finally did, he acted like nothing had happened and avoided us completely. So please, never trust someone to take care of your children just because their family, especially if your family is like mine. You never know what someone is capable of, especially in a moment of rage. While this may not seem terrifying to some, to me it remains one of the scariest experiences of my life. If my sister hadn't stepped in, I'm convinced my uncle could have killed me. More than ten years later, I still wake up sometimes gasping, feeling like it could be my last breath. The day we survived a devastating tornado, this happened when I was 17. I'm 22 now, and it still haunts me.

It was a Friday night, and I was home alone because my mom was out of my mom was out of town visiting some friends, so I had the house to myself for the whole weekend. That night, I invited my friend Dan over to hang out, and we decided to watch a horror movie. We prepared some snacks and sodas and put on my favorite horror movie, Drag Me to Hell. It's the story of a lone officer who denies an elderly woman's extension request and ends up cursed, with only three days to break the spell before literally being dragged to hell. About an hour into the movie, Dan and I were having fun and laughing at some of the absurd parts of the plot. I paused the movie because I needed to use the bathroom, and when I went in, I noticed the sky had a strange green color.

I knew a storm was coming, but I didn't think much of it. I did my business, washed my hands, and went back to continue the movie. When we finished watching, we both got an alert on our phones. There was a tornado warning until 7.45 p.m. We were told to seek shelter in immediately due to the extreme level of threat. We ran out of the house to the storm shelter in the trailer park where we lived. Just as we reached the shelter, the siren started blaring and the wind turned violent. The park owner unlocked the shelter, and all the neighbors rushed in. We headed to the basement and huddled together. About 10 minutes later, the power went out. We could hear the wind growing louder, like the roar of a freight train, and the entire building

began to shake. It was so violent I thought the shelter was going to collapse. I started crying, convinced we were going to die. Dan and the other started to panic too. Outside, we heard five loud crashes, like something slamming into the ground. The roar of the wind continued for about ten more minutes, and then suddenly everything went silent. We got the signal that it was safe to come out. When we exited the shelter, I couldn't believe what I saw. saw. The damage was incredible. Several cars were flipped over, trees uprooted, and three houses were severely damaged. Two were completely destroyed, and another had a car embedded in its structure. Dan and I hugged each other, crying with relief that we were alive. It took us about 15 minutes to

calm down before we returned to my house. Luckily, my house only had some minor damage on one side. Dan lived in the same trailer park, and his mom and sister discovered that the roof of their house was damaged. I invited him to stay at my place that night, and he accepted. His family agreed, considering how scared he was. I know this isn't your typical stalker or paranormal story, but it was a terrifying experience I'll never forget. The burglary that uncovered a hidden horror, I'm from Nashville, Tennessee. Before I go on, I want to clarify that I deeply regret the things I did when I was younger, and I do not condone breaking the law or the actions I committed back then. When I was about 13, I used to sneak into other people's homes or

garages to steal whatever I could, food, money, or anything I wanted. I lived in a very dangerous part of Nashville and spent weekends with my grandparents, who had custody of my older brother. One particular weekend, I was snooping through backyards looking for unlocked cars or garages when I noticed a back door was slightly ajar, about four inches, and there were no lights on downstairs. Being a 13-year-old kid, I decided to go into the house. As I tiptoed around looking for things like TVs, game consoles, or computers, I heard a high-pitched scream, but it was muffled.

That froze me in place. Then I heard what sounded like a slap, followed by someone saying, don't bother screaming, no one can hear you down here. Fear gripped me, but I followed the sound. I found a door slightly ajar leading to the basement, where I saw a light on. I lay on the floor and looked down the stairs. From there, I saw a man and a woman tied to chairs, both gagged. The man's head was slumped over, and there was blood all over his chest.

He didn't seem to be breathing. The scene terrified me, and I ran out, making noise. I was sure the intruder heard me because he started chasing me. I ran to the front door, burst through it without bothering to unlock the screen door, and sprinted to a neighbor's house, a man I knew was a firefighter. I banged on his door, yelling for help and saying someone was trying to kill me because they'd already killed the neighbors. I think he died instantly because he made no sound after that.

The firefighter called the police and went to the neighbor's house. He found the woman barely alive, but the man had already died. Later, it was discovered that the attacker had lost his wife in a car accident caused by the man who lived in that house. This had driven him into a state of madness, consumed by alcohol and drugs, until he decided to take revenge. That night, the intruder tortured the couple for hours, killed the man, and left the woman

severely injured, until I interrupted. Fortunately, the paramedics managed to save the woman's life. so kids don't break into other people's homes you might stumble upon something you can't escape the end the shadow in the crops it happened the night i was the designated driver among my group of friends after a party my friends were michael edie and daniella we live in the countryside so whenever we wanted to go to bars or parties we had to travel long distances that's why it was always a big deal for one of us to be sober enough to drive We were driving along Route 513, a highway with no lighting, dotted with houses here and there but mostly surrounded by forest. The road leads to the town where most of the bars are. This story takes place on the way back from town. Daniela started crying because she really needed to use the bathroom. I told her she would have to wait a little longer, but I won't lie, I also started to feel the urge.

That, combined with the fact that Daniela was screaming. in her drunken state, made me think, why not pull over and pee in the woods? Daniela got out first and disappeared into the crops on one side. I went to the opposite side of the road, a little into the woods, because I'm the kind of person who can't pee with people watching. I finished first and went back to the car. Eddie and Michael were singing with the music blasting while I just sat silently, impatient. My two drunk friends didn't seem to find it strange that she had been gone for five minutes. So I got out again to call for her.

Michael has a much louder voice than I do, so when he shouted her name, it would be impossible not to hear it. But still, there was no response. I didn't want to go into those crops, but I felt I had to, she was my friend, and I was the most aware of the situation at that moment.

I had Michael come with me because I was too afraid to go alone. Eddie stayed in a car, he was too drunk. With the flashlight from my glove box, Michael and I ventured into the thick crops, walking in the only direction we could think of, away from the car. Michael kept calling out Daniela's name while laughing hysterically. I understood why he found it funny, given his state, but I just wanted to make sure she was okay and get home. Above the sound of our footsteps pushing through the crops and Michael's laughter, I heard something else, closer.

I placed my arm on Michael's chest to stop him. Now the only thing we could hear was the night breeze blowing through the crops. What's that? I whispered. Shoo, I replied. Michael shouted Daniela's name again. I joined in, thinking it was just her trying to scare us. And again, the footsteps stopped. We walked a bit farther into the crops.

That's when we reached a small narrow clearing. I don't know much about crops or agriculture, but it looked like a small path. where people could walk, probably as wide as two people, just enough to pass through. I looked to the left as far as the light allowed, then to the right. I heard three footsteps and then crops being pushed outward until something came into view. At first, it only lit up the legs, so I assumed it was Michael. But the light revealed it wasn't him, but a man, a stranger I had never seen before. His facial features weren't clear enough to give a good description, but he didn't seem friendly.

I ran in the only direction I remembered, back to the car. I guess I ran so fast it only took me about ten seconds to reach the car. Eddie was already asleep in the car, so I didn't try to ask for help. I started hunking, hoping to get Michael's attention and, hopefully, Danielas. That man's presence had unsettled me. I didn't know if he was the owner of the land or not. I kept hunking until finally Michael came out of the crops dragging Daniela, who, looked unconscious. I got out of the car to help him get her in and place her on the seat.

Michael pointed to the wound on her forehead, as if she had been hit with something heavy and sharp. Michael seemed to be sobering up quickly due to the situation. He suggested I drive to the nearest hospital, which was ten minutes away. The ride there was anything but pleasant, filled with panic and screams. We took Daniela to get her wound treated as quickly as possible. That's when Michael explained, to the nurses, not to me, that he had seen a man dragging her collapsed, unconscious body before running off into the crops once he noticed Michael had seen him. He had never mentioned that in the car, but now it all made sense. That man in the crops that night had done this. Daniela woke up after getting stitches and didn't remember

anything from the night, from the moment we arrived at the party to the moment she was hit on the head. The shadow in the darkness, I was driving back home from my night shift at the pharmacy. It was around 12-17, according to the green dashboard clock in my car. The light shone brightly, I still remember that number. Driving that road at that time is dangerous. No lights, usually no other cars, and deer often come out onto the road. You wouldn't notice them until it's too late if they crossed right in front of you. That's why I always drive slowly, at a max of 50 kilometers per hour. When the road curved left, a clear line of reflective lights appeared on the horizon. I quickly realized it was a line of traffic cones with reflective

tape and a flashing blue light. In the distance, it looked like the reflective material of a safety vest. I was so confused trying to understand what was happening that I didn't realize I should have braked until it was almost too late. The car stopped with a screech, and the man in the reflective vest started walking toward my car with his arms outstretched, apparently signaling me not to move the car. As the man approached, I could see what looked like a police uniform under the vest. He tapped my window with the tip of his index finger, I understood I should roll it down. I did, and I could see his face more clearly to give a good description. He was a black man, about 1.80m tall, slim, with slight facial hair and an earring in his left ear.

He looked young, maybe about 25. He spoke in a low, non-authoritative voice, especially for a cop. He asked for my license and registration. I stayed quiet for a moment and asked if I had done anything wrong because I definitely wasn't speeding. He also paused, looked slightly to his left, and then back at me. Sir, this is a sobriety checkpoint, he said in the same low voice. I asked why he needed my ID and registration in.

if he hadn't accused me of anything. He stepped away from my car and asked me to step out of the vehicle to begin the test. I opened the door and got out. I immediately noticed the cop was taller than me. He pulled a roll of tape from his pocket and laid it on the ground, stretching it out. He asked me to step on the end of the tape and extend my arms while walking a straight line on the tape. I did it without issue, while the cop walked right behind me, uncomfortably close. When I reached the end of the tape, I could see the flashing blue light more clearly. It wasn't on a police car, it was on a small, old sedan. I looked back and asked him to show me his badge. He just stared at me with a blank look. That's when I started to realize, I could literally

feel my heart sink. This guy wasn't a cop. He said something I couldn't make out at first, but as he approached his car, I guessed he said, I'm going to get it. He was bent over inside his car looking for something. While he was distracted, I ran back to my car. When he looked at me and raised a gun, I didn't hesitate, I floored it. The car surged forward, smashing through the traffic cones. I saw the headlights of the man's car turn on as I was already several hundred feet away, but by that point I was going over 100 kilometers per hour, there was no way he could catch

I took the next exit and when I saw street lights, I turned off my headlights to avoid attention. When I got home, I only regretted not having a camera in the car to record it. I swear it would have made the news. The shadow on the road, I was driving from Mina, New York, northbound to spend the week with my family. I left right after work around 5.30, so I didn't expect to arrive until after 1 a.m. I had the top off my Jeep Wrangler to enjoy the warm weather. I was somewhere in Vermont past midnight when the fuel light came on and the car started beeping. Unfortunately, the gas gauge was broken, so I had no way of knowing how much fuel I had left.

My brother, who had driven the car the day before, told me he had filled the tank. But clearly, he was wrong or lied, because I hadn't used even half a tank. I saw a service sign with a gas station symbol, so I took the exit onto a deserted road that surely led to some sort of civilization. But I wouldn't find out soon, the car started acting strange, making weird noises. Seconds later, acceleration stopped, and the car completely shut down. I couldn't believe it, I had run out of gas. I got out and called AAA to give them my exact location. They told me someone would be there in 20 minutes, which I appreciated.

But at the same time, I was annoyed that I'd have to wait so long. For about 15 minutes, I walked around my car, looking at the same. at my phone, messaging my friends about the situation, and checking social media. Everything was so quiet, no traffic, no cars passing, just the sound of crickets and other nocturnal animals in the woods. Then I heard something walking in the forest. The footsteps were heavy, so I thought it might be a deer or something similar, but the possibility of a bear wasn't far-fetched since the area was known for them. I walked to the passenger side of the car, toward where the sounds came from, hoping to see a deer or some other harmless animal. Suddenly, I heard two claps,

like someone clapping. I stepped closer to hear better, this time it was three claps. I called into the forest, hoping someone would respond, but after that, the clapping stopped. I stood there waiting, but there was only silence. I went back to the car and kept waiting. Then I heard footsteps again, this time approaching me, but suddenly they stopped. I looked outside and saw a head peeking out from behind a tree. It was like the head was completely still, the eyes looked empty. I couldn't tell if it was looking at me or not. I was so focused on those details that I didn't even think to scream, which horrifies me now.

I quickly rolled up the windows on both sides and turned off the car lights. But hiding inside didn't give me much safety, the top of the car was completely open. Without the lights, I was in complete darkness, I couldn't see even two centimeters in front of me, but I was surrounded by the forest's nighttime noises. I crouched under the dashboard with the doors locked, still completely exposed to the outside, praying I wouldn't hear a sudden sound like footsteps. My stomach sank when I heard someone grab the car door handle. I tried not to move or make a sound, hoping no one would start banging on the window or try to

open the door. I was so exposed it wasn't even funny. Then I felt a hand grabbing me aggressively from behind. I lost control, I screamed at the top of my lungs. But suddenly the hand let go, and like magic, light started to fill the area, and the sound of a truck approaching on the road was music to my ears. I sat up and looked back to see the headlights of a triple A truck. But the person who had touched me was already gone. I ran out of the car to greet the man who got out of the truck, a big guy in his 40s. I basically cried to him, explaining what had just happened, taking big breaths between each sentence. Something about his personality and presence calmed me down and made me feel safe. He filled up my car with gas and we both

went on our way. But the memory of that night still haunts me, the image of that lifeless head peeking out from behind the tree is burned into my mind. And that's how these three stories end, each with its own mystery and darkness, each in its own way making us wonder about what might be lurking out there in the night. The end. Hello everyone, I can't believe I am here telling this story. But I feel like I need to. This all came to a head early last year after the birth of my twins. We are still trying to deal with it all. But progress is being made. So, let's start from the beginning. I, 27F, Ashley, met my husband, 28M, Sam while we were both in college. We actually met at the Chicago O'Hare Airport on our way back from winter break.

I got to my gate, sat down and started reading my book. About an hour later a man came up and sat down next to me. He pointed out that we were both reading the same series. I was two books ahead of him, but that didn't stop us from chatting about everything we loved, hated and wanted to come from the series. We boarded the plane, he was in first class and I was in coach. But about 30 minutes into the flight he walked up and offered to switch seats with the person sitting next to me. She gladly accepted and he sat down.

He was very handsome and charming. I was definitely blushing at this point. He said he really enjoyed talking to me, and wanted to continue. During this conversation we learned that not only did we go to the same college, but we actually grew up only an hour away from each other. He was going to school for computer science and I was going for education. Throughout the whole flight our conversation just flowed so smoothly. I had never been able to converse with someone like this before. I was immediately taken with him.

We arrived at our destination, he accompanied me to the luggage claim. It was here that he asked for my number, and I gave it to him. We got our luggage, parted ways, and he promised to contact me soon. It wasn't long after this we started dating. We had so much in common and even introduced each other to new interests and hobbies. I was really into astronomy and got him into it as well. We used to drive out of the city with my telescope and go stargazing. He got me into online gaming.

He even helped me pay for and assemble my first gaming rig. It didn't take long before we said we loved each other. That first year just flew by. Before we knew it was winter break again, and it was four weeks long. We were heading back to our homes and since we lived, lived so close to each other we had made a plan. The first week we would go to our own home separately. I would visit my mom and Sam, his parents. The second week he would come to me and meet my mom, and he would stay with us for the week. The third week I would go and meet his

family and stay the week with them. And that last week we would just head back to school and relax. Growing up it was just me and my mom, Merrill. I never had a dad. I guess my mom had a drunken fling one night in a bar and ended up getting pregnant. Sam's parents, Bill and Tammy, were a bit more traditional. But he always spoke very highly of them saying they were always very loving and supportive. Sam also had an older sister, Laura. I guess she was a little standoffish, but once you got on her good side, she was a sweetheart. So the first week was nice. It was great getting to catch up with my mom. She was my best friend and I absolutely adored her. She made a lot of sacrifices for me to make sure that I had a comfortable

upbringing with it just being the two of us. We weren't well off, but we were comfortable. Sam came from a bit more wealth. Bill and Tammy were high school sweethearts. Bill owned his own IT company and Tammy was a stay-at-home mom who had recently taken up painting. The second week Sam came and met my mom. When he first walked and I noticed a strange look on my mom's face, but it quickly faded and she just gave him a big hug. As usual, my mom was very welcoming, and they got along great. She didn't even protest us sharing my bed. Sadly Sam said we would have to sleep in separate rooms at his parents' house.

The third week we went to Sam's. We walked into the house and made our way to the living room where his parents were. His mom embraced me with a big hug and said how happy she was to meet me. His dad also gave me a hug, but when he pulled back and really looked at me, he just started giving me the strangest look. He said it was nice to meet me, but with hesitation in his voice. Laura arrived the next day. Just as Sam said, she immediately had a wall up with me.

She asked me a lot of personal questions. She was just trying to look out for her little brother, so I couldn't blame her or be upset with her. So I happily answered every question she had. By the end of the week, Laura had lightened up a bit, but was still keeping me at arm's length. Sam's dad, though, he was being almost hostile. He was always looking at me, and most of the time with a scowl. He wouldn't converse with me or really show me any kind of warmth at all. He seemed so friendly when we walked in, and his actions seemed contrary to how Sam described

him. So what had I done? And his hostility was not lost on everyone else. During our last day there Sam finally confronted his dad in his home office. From what I was told, his dad basically told him that he needed to end things with me immediately. That I was not right for him and he was better off without me. They ended up getting into a huge argument. It ended with us packing and leaving. We just stayed the night at a hotel by the airport. Once we were back at school, Sam and his dad spoke very

little. And when they did they just argued. Tammy couldn't seem to get a straight answer from Bill about why he didn't like me. He would just say I wasn't right for Sam. That our relationship was bound to fail. Things went on like this for the rest of the time we were in school. So for six years Sam and Bill had a pretty rocky relationship. We still went and visited our families on breaks, but we decided it was best to just keep to our own families for now. Bill obviously did not want me in his house, and frankly, I didn't want to be around him. Every once and a while though we would still manage to get a lunch or dinner in. Bill was never in attendance. Once we were out of school Sam proposed. I was elated and said,

said yes immediately. My mom, Tammy, and even Laura were all so happy for us. Sam's dad, on the other hand, was furious. He said he refused to contribute to the wedding at all and wouldn't even come. Luckily, Tammy had her own savings and she contributed despite Bill's protests. Come our wedding day, as promised, Bill did not attend. Tammy begged and pleaded with him to come, but he refused. Saying he does not consent to this, and refuses to accept our marriage as valid. Even Laura tried, but just more of the same. Sam and his dad's relationship became non-existent after this. Sam was hurt that his dad couldn't put his pride away on the happiest day of his life. At this point, they were basically strangers. Sam and I had

decided that we wanted to make sure we were stable before we had kids. We needed a house, good jobs, and to have a comfortable cushion in case of emergencies. We managed to achieve this in two years. Mostly due to Sam's family. While Bill was still keeping no contact, and still refused to support us financially in any way, Tammy being the sweet soul she is, made sure that we were taken care of and helped us in any way she could. We did end up moving across the country to San Diego, which is also where Laura lived. Laura was a real estate agent and helped us find a wonderful home. I got a job as a teacher at a private school, and Sam took on a job as an IT specialist. While he and his father no longer saw eye to eye, Sam and Bill always did share a love

of computers. At this point, we were both very stable and working towards our future. We tried to be as frugal as possible those first couple years. So two years and we started trying for kids. And in three months I was pregnant. Again, the whole family was excited for us, especially when we learned we were having twins. But I guess Bill became very depressed to hear this. According to Tammy he had started to get distant and short with them. He was neglecting work and just seemed to always be in a days. This went on throughout my entire pregnancy. Nine months later came Jacob and Tilly. They were just the most beautiful little babies. The family actually flew out to California to see the babies. Tammy even paid for my mom's ticket. But again, no bill. I had accepted

early on that bill didn't like me, which was disappointing seeing as I never had a father myself. Having Sam defend me and stand by my side made this easier, though. But now I was offended that he couldn't even bother to come see his grandbabies. Who cares how he felt about me? These were his son's kids. Once I was out of the hospital I actually gave him a call. I was just so mad at this point and was finally just going to confront him and find out what his problem with me was.

But he didn't answer, which I guess is to be expected. I even tried a few more times over the week, but he never picked up. At the end of the week everyone went home and we transitioned into being parents. It was a month later when everything changed. We were in the kids' room. I was nursing Jacob while Sam was holding Tilly. His phone rang and he saw it was from his sister. He picked up with a smile, but almost immediately went to panic.

Laura was freaking out about something. He put Tilly in her crib and walked out of the room. I was obviously worried, but it seemed like they needed to talk in private. But ten minutes later Sam came back and his eyes were red. It looked like he had been crying. I put Jacob in the crib next to Tilly, then gave Sam a hug and asked him what was wrong. He told me Bill had committed suicide. I couldn't believe it.

This wasn't like Bill at all, and even I knew that. He was more of an old-school man that I thought never believed in suicide. It was just so unexpected, and Sam was obviously distraught. We both called into work and explained we had a family tragedy and needed to to leave town for the rest of the week. We got some bags packed, got the babies ready, and left for the airport. When we arrived Laura was already there. She greeted us at the door, but for some reason she was acting strange.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something was off. She could barely look at the both of us. I attributed it to her morning, though. Tammy had been crying for days. But I guess after finding Bill's suicide note, she just become even more distraught. after we arrived, she collected herself enough to meet us in the living room. Still sniffling and shedding tears. So it was the whole family sitting in the living room, quietly. No one knew how to start this conversation. It was just so tense. Laura broke the silence. She said

that they had found Bill's suicide note. Tammy just started to cry harder at this. Laura told us that it was shocking, and that it was really important that we read it. Now this note, this damn note. Sam and I stared at it for so long that its words are etched into our memories forever. I have made an unforgivable mistake. And now I have allowed things to go too far. All because I could not own up to my failings as a man. Shortly after Sam was born, I went to visit my brother to celebrate. We went to a bar that night. At the bar I met a woman. We drank, we flirted, and we had sex. I cheated on my wife. And even worse, that woman had gotten pregnant, but I refused to participate in a child's life or support her in any way. I had

forgotten about that night, until Sam brought Ashley into our home. I could see she was the spitting image of her mother. There was no doubting it, she was the result of my infidelity. She was my daughter, and Sam's half-sister. And now, because of my inability to come clean and take responsibility for my actions, I have allowed two of my children to perform an unforgivable act. I can no longer live with the guilt of knowing what I have allowed to happen. Knowing the pain this news will bring to my family. Knowing that I am responsible for all of this. I love you all, and hope you can find it in your heart to not hate me one day.

Ashley and Sam, I am so sorry. Sam and I could not wrap our heads around what we were reading. We asked if this was a joke. We said this was not funny. In our shock, we both lashed out. We couldn't accept what we had just read. This news was just too much to take. to think that the bond we shared may have been due to some sort of sibling-type connection.

To realize I had been sleeping with my own brother all this time. Needless to say, that night, Sam and I slept in different rooms. And it stayed that way until the end of the trip. By the next day we had calmed down, but not much. We both were still feeling very overwhelmed with what we had learned. We had a family meeting about what this meant. How we planned to handle this moving forward. There were a lot of emotions.

But this was new territory for all of us, and we didn't even begin to know how to navigate it. We were still processing. While we weren't sleeping in the same bed right at the moment, Sam and I had still been talking. Long talks on the phone at night from our separate rooms. Awkward conversations during the day around Tammy and Laura. We were very confused, but we were still trying to support each other through all of it. By the final day we agreed that our love was not just a familial thing.

We never even knew the other existed until that day at the airport. So why should it be any different now? We knew it was weird and in a lot of ways wrong, but we had children now, and that needed to be considered. On that last day we sat everyone down. Even my mom drove up and joined us. She had already been informed of the situation. Bill and her never met after that night at the bar.

Since Bill refused to come to any get-together. And they only talked on the phone once about the pregnancy, but Bill cut contact with her immediately. Tammy and Mom had always gotten along great before at our joint outings, but now there was attention in the room. My mom decided to speak first and apologize to Tammy. That night she had no idea he was married. She said that she doesn't remember ever seeing him wearing a wedding ring. And that it had always been a habit of hers to check. And he never mentioned it when they spoke about the pregnancy. She never wanted to be the other woman. It was at this moment I remembered the look on my mom's face when she met Sam.

and realized that she must have felt like Sam reminded her of someone, but couldn't tell who. It must have been Bill. Tammy just sat and listened, and once Mom was finished, she spoke. Merrill, I do not blame you for this. I loved Bill, but this is on him. There was still tension, but at least not all the bridges were burning anymore. After Sam and I informed the family we made a decision. We told the family that we had been talking seriously about our situation and that we had done some research. Surprisingly, this is not the first time something like this has happened. While not every case involved kids, most of these couples stayed together even after finding out they were half-siblings. And if they could make it work, so could

we. We told them we would definitely be attending counseling, but we wanted to give it a try. While we could tell the family was not exactly thrilled about this decision, they chose to accept it. They knew that it was better for the kids. And they knew that we really did love each other, despite all of this. They agreed that therapy was a good idea, and Tammy even offered to pay. So that's where we are now. We sold our house in California and moved back to Illinois. We found a place that was equidistant to both of our families. San took over his dad's company, and with that I decided to take some time off and focus on our babies. We did get a DNA test and it did confirm Bill's claims. We have been in regular counseling since we found out,

but things are going well. We are dedicated to not letting this be a roadblock in our family's future. We obviously decided to keep this a public secret. We haven't decided, though, if we are ever going to tell the kids. I want to, but Sam is on the fence about it. All I know is since I am now a stay-at-home mom, I would prefer to homeschool them, just to be safe. But all and all we couldn't be happier.

Sorry if this makes anyone uncomfortable, but this is just our reality. We just have to accept it and make it. the most of it. This happened a few weeks ago, now that I'm fully sitting down to write it all out. As of writing this I've turned 18. Happy birthday to me. I really don't know where to begin. I guess at the start. I used to live somewhere in Maine, with my parents. But they weren't the best, and I couldn't live there anymore. It wasn't living at that point, it was surviving. So one afternoon when my mom passed out, needle in her arm, I stole her keys, packed my things, then stole her car. I only had $36 that I had taken with the keys.

But I didn't care, I wanted to leave. After a few hours, I needed gas, and so I stopped at a gas station next to a truck stop. I was hungry, so I bought snacks, peanut butter MNMS, and I forgot what else, then I filled my car up. I sat and ate the other stuff I bought, still can't remember, when I saw how dirty this trucker's truck was. It gave me an idea. I walked over to the trucker's and told him I was needing gas money, that I had lost my wallet going home, then offered to clean his truck for $30. Thankfully he agreed, saying, good-looking out boy, I was planning on a trina hook a few lizards tonight. Hell if you get it good I may give you a nice tip. I wasn't sure what he meant, but I quickly followed him to his truck. He said something else, then patted my

back. I got to cleaning. It wasn't that nasty, or dirty. Just a lot of empty containers. It took 30 minutes, and he was gone for an hour. But when he came back, he was excited about how clean it was. Damn boy, I haven't seen it this clean in years. You know what? Take it all. The trucker said to me, then handed me two $100 bills out of a stack as thick as my arm. I went to my car happy, and decided I wouldn't stop again until I needed gas. To save the money. The trip was decent, but boring. It all looked the same, until I hit West Virginia. I decided to take a more scenic route through the mountains that my GPS offered. There had also been a sign for gas and food.

So I took the exit. After 15 minutes down a road full of curves and surrounded by thick forest I had made it to what once could have been called a town. It had a gas station that had pumps that were out of order, and three busted up buildings with more busted houses deeper into town. I needed gas, so I stopped, not knowing the pumps don't work, I pulled into the gas station and parked right outside of the doors. As I went into the store, I could feel the cashier staring at me. I thought nothing of it, I have main tags in West Virginia. When I entered I went straight to the counter. Then asked for $40 on whichever pump worked.

Ain't any of them work. The cashier said, with a thick southern drawl. Where is the next gas station that has gas? I asked, kind of frustrated. Well, if you take a right when you leave here, then go on down the road for ten minutes, take a left, then continue for another 20 minutes you'll be in the town next over. The cashier explained, chewing tobacco. All right, sounds good.

I said, hoping I'd have enough gas to get there. You better get going, it ain't safe out here at dark for tourists. The cashier said, kind of harshly. Now I know he was just trying to scare me back towards the highway. Why is that? I asked, smugly. These animals out here ain't like what you have up north. Nothing like it.

Just take my advice. Maybe go back the way you came, but, the cashier said, spitting tobacco after his sentence. I think I will be fine, thanks anyways. I said, leaving the store. I wish I would have listened. I took his directions, unknowingly I took the wrong left, and that turn took me on what seemed like an endless road, covered in forest. After 20 minutes of driving I took out my paper map, but according to the map I wasn't on a road,

I was in the middle of nowhere. Same with my car's GPS device. After another 20 minutes I was almost out of gas, and decided to turn around. Hoping I'd have enough to get back to the rundown gas station. Ten minutes after I turned around, I was out of gas, and stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I either walked back, or waited for someone to drive by. It was also starting to get dark, and I had no flashlight. So I decided to stay in the car, and hope someone drives by.

Once it got dark, I turned the car on to listen to music. Not like the battery dying would make my situation worse. After 30 minutes since the sunset, I started to hear things. Nothing that would cause too much panic if I was in a different situation. There was a distant howl, from something I have never heard before or since. Leaves and sticks falling from the trees above onto my car, like something was jumping from branch to branch. After an hour the howls had stopped, but heavy footsteps off and on from the edge of the woods kept me. from dozing off.

I assumed it was a bear, or a curious deer. Regardless, I wasn't checking. Once the noises stopped being as frequent, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I started to doze off. I fell asleep for what felt like thirty seconds when I heard the scrape of nails against my car window, jolting awake, to see three long scratches next to where my head was. I jumped into the passenger seat, and screamed. Like a bitch, I'll admit it.

But I thought it was a bear, but I was wrong. So wrong. So wrong. After a minute of silence, I heard heavy breathing behind me, and whipped around to see some creature drooling, and breathing at the window where my head was again. It was not a bear, I am not sure what it was. I can describe it. It looked like a giant squirrel, which now might make this story less believable.

But I wish I was lying. The head was covered in blood, dried and fresh. Teeth yellow, and rotting. is blacker than anything I have ever seen. I screamed again, of course, and jumped into the back seat, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. I eventually found an umbrella. But before I could even think what I could use it for, glass shattered and the creature

was in the car. I opened the door, and jumped out of the car, running into the road. The creature was digging through my car, looking for something. After a minute it had found it, my peanut butter MNMS. It ate the package hole, then coughed and choked a little. I was frozen, what could I do? It had my car, and I was in his territory. But by some sick luck, headlights began to shine from afar, and the creature retreated into

the woods. The cashier from the gas station pulled up, yelling for me, but I was still frozen. Get the fuck in the car, that thing won't stop till the morning. You can stay with me. The cashier said, ushering me into his car. a second I came back, and hurried into his car. He started to speak again, but I was still dazed. Before he could take the car out of park, his window busted, and he was ripped from the car.

All I could hear was his body being violently ripped to pieces, then I jumped in the driver's seat and began to drive. I felt a bump as I drove away, knowing for sure it was that cashier. With no time to be upset, I started to drive as fast as I could. While stupidly staring in the mirror to see if the creature was following. It was faster than I predicted, then I crashed into a ditch because I was more focused on what was behind me than in front of me. I tried to move the car, hoping it wasn't too deep. But I had no luck, and then I heard a thud on the roof above me.

I quickly scanned the car, for anything to protect myself. When I opened the glove box, a handgun fell out. I grabbed it and checked to see if it was loaded. It was. So I fired two shots into the roof. As soon as the second bullet pierced the roof, the gun fell. creature let out a horrible scream, the only thing I can think of that is close to the sound it made is an Aztec death whistle. After the scream, it was silent. The sun was just starting

to peek over the trees, and I decided it was now or never. I quickly scanned the trees, seeing movement far ahead of me. I decided to go for it. I let off three more shots in the direction of the creature. Another scream, then a loud thud, like it had fallen from the trees. I quickly checked the trunk of the cashier's car, hoping maybe for gas, or food. I found gas, a full five-gallon tank. I quickly made my way back to my car, filled it up, and jumped into the driver's seat. Then drove away. It has been three weeks since this happened, I haven't seen anything on the news regarding the cashier, or a giant squirrel creature being found dead. I made my way to Illinois, far from any mountains. Just how I want it to be until I die. If anyone has any explanation on what

attacked me, please let me know. I can't find anything online. Maybe it's a worse squirrel. Can't believe I'm updating after all this chaos. I thought I would put it all behind me, just not the way my sperm donor wanted, but alas, they would never learn to let go for their own sakes. I looked through every one of your advice and blocked my sperm donor and Martha for my social media. I also went with my grandparents to the police station to have a restraining order placed against sperm donor and Martha as well as their family with the messages they had sent me as evidence. They understood their assignment and said that the courts would grant me one very soon. Grandpa sent a warning message to sperm donor and Martha that if they tried to come near me again,

he'd make them regret it. You think all this will stop them? Fuck no. You see, in one of my classes, a classmate named Blair, 27F, comes from a family where she has very strong values and beliefs about being there for your family, no matter what happens and all that. Believe me, I appreciate her worry, but sometimes, some boundaries do not need to be crossed. When she asked me about my family during a greet-and-meat when I first got into college, I only told her that my father, though still alive, abandoned me and that my grandparents are my only family now. She did not like that answer and started to badger me to reconnect with my sperm donor and find peace. I told her firmly to drop it, and that, along with a few instructors, got her to stop. I thought that would be

the end of it, but boy, was I wrong? For the next few weeks, I thought I saw a familiar looking car a few blocks down from the buildings where I take my classes, they can switch between online and in person, I forgot to correct that in my last post, down at the local grocery store my grandparents and I go to, even at the public library. Everywhere I go, I see that car, and I know for sure that sperm donor's car. I could tell by the color and the model of that. Before class online started, the instructor asked me in private if I was all right. I was in early, so I told him about what was happening, and he told me he would get to the bottom of this. Before the lecture ended, he explained to the class what I told him and pressed for someone to speak up and answer now.

I noticed Blair trying to act calm during all this and asked her if she had something to do with it, which got the instructor and the whole class's attention. She tried to deny it, but eventually, after being pressed by the instructor, she broke down and admitted she told sperm donor and Martha the location of the college I go to as well as where I usually go on certain days and at certain times. When I angrily asked her how she got in contact with them, she tearfully answered that she found them in the face of books. She would not stop defending herself and saying she wanted me to have a happy family again. I was honestly disgusted and panicking at the thought of sperm donor or Martha, or maybe both snatching me in the open and taking me back by force because someone would not mind their own business.

The instructor was quick to dismiss everyone for the day but not before sternly telling Blair that they were going to have a serious talk. Later on, he sent an email to me and my grandparents regarding the incident. He explained that Blair's actions would lead her to be expelled since breaching someone's privacy and putting them in complete danger without even considering the consequences are considered serious crimes. He ended the email by apologizing for what I had gone through and told me he was proud of me for stepping forward. My nana and grandpa were furious, not at me, but at Blair and sperm don't earn Martha for going too far and overstepping boundaries. I was able to get a hold of the college

office to not let sperm don't earn Martha in under any circumstances and that they are a danger to my well-being. I'm grateful they took this seriously and made sure they were blacklisted from entering the building. Can't leave out Nicole as well, better safe than sorry. Good God, I hope this ends here. If not, I will update as soon as possible. For the sake of background, I, 20F, was 15, nearly 16, when the incident happened, so this was five years ago. I will be using fake names for privacy protection. My step-sister, who I will call Nicole, was 17, so now she's 22, my twin stepbrothers, Kyle and Chase, were both 14, now 19. I was around 5 when my birth mother passed away. She was sick for a while now. She died 10 days after my fifth

birthday. Now you're all wondering where my father was during all this. He had been out and about cheating on my mother with his mistress now wife, who I will call Martha, not even caring how scared his young daughter was and that his beloved wife was dying slowly from a sickness I had no idea about at the time. It wasn't a few months after my mom died that my sperm donor married Martha, and that's when my life went down to hell. The second my stepfamily moved in, it was as if my mother never existed, to begin with. The things that reminded my father of her existence were luckily put in storage by my paternal grandparents' insistence near the town they lived in. Nicole and her brothers had instantly my father wrapped around their fingers, even from the moment

he started cheating on my mom. You see, he wanted an obedient daughter and sons to keep his family name going. I was not an exception to his desires. For ten years, I was left on the sidelines, trapped in the shadows, while my step-siblings received all of my father's attention and love, things I never got to have as a kid. When they had competitions, hobbies, or educational pursuits, he was there. But when I had mine, he wasn't there. If any of my step-siblings made one tiny mistake, it was meant.

with, it's fine, it's all good." Me? I was instantly punished and yelled at. Achievements? My step-siblings received pride and praise for my father and stepmother, I never heard a simple, good job, or even an acknowledgement. Nicole and her brothers soaked up all the attention and love from their parents, and they took pleasure in seeing me treated poorly just for existing.

Thinking this was fun, they chose to make my life a living hell. From elementary school through high school, they ensured I felt isolated. alienated, and hated by everyone, except for a few friends I managed to keep, by spreading rumors and bullying me to the point where I had to change schools to avoid being in the same classes as them. When I was 15, things went from bad to worse. I was busy doing homework from one of my classes when Martha suddenly burst into my room, screaming like a banshee. Before I could even ask what was going on, she was instantly hitting me in the face, slapping me in leaving scratch marks on my cheeks and near my eyes, which could have blinded me. I was able to get her

off me just when my father stormed in with Nicole secretly smirking beside him. Seeing that smirk on her face told me she had come up with something dark, and when I was confronted, I was right. My father and Martha were yelling at me, saying how I was such a disgusting thief and that they did not raise a, harlot, to steal from this family. Some of these things didn't make sense to me, but I knew what they were talking about. My father kept the family money in a safe in his office and only used the money for real purposes. He even had this safe locked up and had a pin only he knew and that I never asked for, so I had no idea where they got that idea from, aside from Nicole, who was still

smirking. When I finally got the chance to ask them what gave them that idea, they had claimed that Nicole said she had seen me sneaking into the office and taking some of the money while they were out of town a few days ago and had hard proof that it happened. As a student studying in art class, I could tell her evidence was all edited to make it seem like I did it and all bullshit. No matter how many times I tried to tell them I never did that, my father and Martha would not listen to me, trapped in anger at my supposed sins. One day later, I was kicked out with my things, essentials, and clothes forcibly packed in my duffel bag and a couple of suitcases and warned to never come back if I didn't want to get arrested for financial

theft. I was heartbroken, lost, and confused. I had to take the bus to head to my grandparents' place in their town, which is like a one, journey. The second my nana saw my face covered in dried, bloodied scratches and bruises, she was horrified, but not as horrified and disgusted as my grandpa when I told them how I ended up like this. The next thing I knew, my grandpa was calling for a family lawyer to have me put in their custody while my nana comforted me as I cried. The legal process didn't take long, since my father had me legally disowned from his family and wanted me gone and out of his hands. To be fair, the fact that my father had never been there for me or my mom when

she died was painful, but the fact that he had refused to listen to me when I had been telling the truth and never even wanted to hear me out hurt me the most, even today. For the next five years, my grandparents helped me get ready for the next stages of my life while guiding me and healing from the unforgiving hurt I've gone through. They paid for my education, which they helped me transfer from the school in my former town to another better school, and for my therapy. My grandpa even helped me find my own car for my sweet 16 birthday, which is used but still works. I was so grateful to them, given how I was scared of how they would react if I told them what had happened to me, but I was desperate and looking for another

option. You're our granddaughter, will always love you and hear you out, they'd tell me every time I'd thank them for how they helped me. Now five years later, I'm already in college classes, studying for an art major, still living with my grandparents since they are getting old and need help with everything. Because they had been there for me every step of the way, I figured I'd return the favor. Now here's where everything falls into place. My father and Martha came over one day after five years of no contact, wanting to speak with me. At first, my grandpa was hesitant to let them in and was ready to call the police on them, but I told him to at least hear them out on what they wanted before doing anything. It took some pressing,

but they explained what they were really here for, Nicole had made all of the story about me stealing money from the family office safe up to get me out of the picture, just as I had suspected. It was revealed that a party she and her brothers were having at my old home while they were out of town. A classmate I was not exactly close with had managed to record the moment when Nicole was laughing with a friend of hers when she was asked about me. She had boasted that she made up that story to, teach me a lesson for being a snobby bitch, and that she was doing her father a favor by being rid of her for good. That classmate uploaded the video to the internet, exposing Nicole and her lies soon crumbled down. Upon realizing what they

had done, my father and Martha decided to send Nicole away to try and save face, but that pushed her over the edge even further. Not even the night before they were going to send her way, Nicole broke into the family safe and took half of the money before fleeing town. My father then begged me to come back home so that we could put this all behind us and be a happy family again. I suddenly burst into laughter at the mere thought of that. My father had me thrown out with no way to prove my innocence, cut me off, leaving my heart into several pieces that my grandparents had to pick back up, and now he is asking me to come back.

All for what? So he could pretend he never broke my heart and abandoned me for his precious family from the beginning? I told him and Martha they must be so delusional to even think I would ever want to come back after they accused me of something I would never do and then pleading for me to return after their golden child daughter robbed them blind. I said they got their wish, they got rid of me five years. years ago, so it's best they continue to think they only have one daughter and two sons.

My father and Martha were close to yelling at me, but my grandfather cut them off and told them to leave or he will call the cops on them for trespassing. Since then, I've been getting messages and frantic voicemails from my father and Martha, switching between begging for my forgiveness and to come back and calling me names that would make Ozzy Osbourne blush, saying that I owe them. As far as I'm concerned, I do not owe them anything. They had made their choices, so they need to live with it. What's the worst thing you've ever seen or heard someone confess?

That's a question that leaves people uneasy because confessions tend to drag the darkest corners of humanity into the light. I've been a teacher for many years, and one confession from about 10 years ago during a parent-teacher meeting still haunts me. A set of parents came to discuss their son, explaining that he was on the autism spectrum and often interpreted things differently. They were nervous, hesitant, almost desperate for understanding. I reassured them that I had plenty of experience teaching students on the spectrum and could

adapt to their son's needs. But the dad looked at me with a somber face and said, you don't understand. Our son is considerate, but he doesn't recognize when something is inappropriate. Then he shared a story that left me cold. When their son was six years old, he noticed the family's kitten was cold. The boy understood that microwaves make things warm. Tragically, the story ended as you'd expect. The parents revealed he had been in therapy every week for seven years before coming into my class.

By the time I became his teacher, he had a strong moral compass, but there were still massive gaps in his understanding. For three years, I taught him and saw firsthand that he excelled academically. In our extra time, I focused on helping him navigate socio-emotional challenges. We talk about hypothetical scenarios like, if you see someone crying alone at lunch, what could you do? Over time, he became more thoughtful and empathetic. A few years after he graduated, he came back to thank me. His last words during that visit were, My parents told you about the cat, didn't they?

I nodded. He said, I'd never do something like that again. I told him I knew. He's a good person with a deeply unfortunate past. Another confession took place in a completely different setting. Back when I was in college, I used to hang out at a biker bar. One day, a Muslim woman pushing a stroller was hit by a car in a hit and run. Both the mother and baby didn't survive.

Later that night at the bar, a man stumbled in, clearly drunk, boasting loudly about being the driver responsible for the accident. He must have thought the crowd of old, gruff white men would rally behind his disgusting actions. He was wrong. The atmosphere in the bar shifted like a thunderstorm rolling in. The bartender discreetly called the police while the patrons made sure the man didn't leave. Some regulars disappeared out the back door with him, and I didn't see what happened between that moment and when the cops arrived. When the man was finally escorted out in a patrol car, he looked considerably worse than when

he walked in. The speed at which the collective mood turned against him was shocking but reassuring. Even in the darkest places, there's a sense of justice. Volunteering at a city hospital during high school introduced me to another gut-wrenching confession. I mainly handled quality control surveys and supply stocking, but there was a Vietnam veteran there who had severe PTSD. He was a tormented soul who alternated between shouting, crying, and mumbling incoherently. Over three weekends, he grew comfortable enough with me to share something harrowing. His unit in Vietnam had been led by a new commander who was a dangerous

mix of arrogance and incompetence. The man's poor leadership put the entire unit at risk, and after days of deliberation, they agreed that the only way to survive was to eliminate their own officer. They drew lots, and the responsibility felt to this. veteran. He carried out the grim task, knowing the officers' decisions would lead them all to certain death if left unchecked. The guilt from this act haunted him, even though the decision saved almost the entire unit. He didn't deserve to die, the man told me. But he was going to kill us all through his incompetence. I did what I had to do. Hearing that story broke something in me. All the men in that unit were barely 25 years old, forced into impossible choices

by circumstances beyond their control. It was a sobering reminder of how war corrods humanity. Sometimes, confessions come from closer circles. Once, I attended a barbecue hosted by the parents of one of my son's classmates. The gathering was meant for parents to mingle and get to know each other better. The hosts were friendly, and I chatted with them a few times casually over the years. As the night went on, people drank more, and the conversations got louder. I wasn't much of a drinker, so I sat in a corner.

quiet corner watching the chaos. The father of the hosting family, visibly drunk, sat beside me. At first, he rambled about what a kind person I was and how he wished he had a friend like me. The flattery made me uncomfortable, and I was ready to excuse myself when he suddenly said he had a confession to make. He proceeded to tell me that when he was 19, he killed his stepfather. His stepfather had been physically abusive to his mother for years, and after one particularly brutal incident, the 19-year-old snapped. He went into the to disturbing detail about what he did and how he disposed of the body. For the past 16 years, everyone believed the stepfather had abandoned the family and disappeared.

No one suspected a thing. The man's mother and sister even told people the stepfather likely ran off, leaving everything behind. After hearing this, I sat there stunned. What do you even say to something like that? I muttered something about how awful that must have been for him and left. In the following weeks, I discreetly asked around in his social circle, and the prevailing story was that the stepfather had vanished one night without a trace.

I didn't go to the police. Part of me felt like the family had already suffered enough, and the man himself had spent his adult life devoted to protecting women and children. He took care of his mother and sister, financially and emotionally. He never sought attention or praise for it, he just quietly lived his life. I'm not saying what he did was right, but I understand how years of pain and hopelessness could lead to such a breaking point. Then there was the time my ex-boss and close friend dropped a bombshell on me. He admitted to having an ongoing inappropriate relationship with his adopted

daughter. They had adopted her when she was 14, and he insisted that nothing happened until she turned 18. But his timeline didn't add up. I strongly suspected the relationship started when she was much younger. The girl bore the brunt of the blame when the wife found out. She was kicked out of the house at 18, while he and his wife stayed together. The wife claimed the girl had seduced him, as if that somehow absolved him. I couldn't stomach working for him anymore and eventually left the company. Over the years, I've crossed paths with his wife, who blames me for ruining their business and family. Meanwhile, I've moved on and built a better career.

I haven't seen the girl since, but I hope she's doing okay. That's one confession I'll never forgive. Family confessions can also be the most earth-shattering. After my paternal grandfather passed away, a cousin revealed that he'd been unfaithful to my grandmother for decades. Everyone knew about his mistress, but no one dared to speak about it. My grandmother, a type 1 diabetic, eventually overdosed on insulin. My cousin claimed it wasn't an accident but a deliberate act because she couldn't endure

the humiliation anymore. It painted a grim picture of a family's silent complicity in enabling my grandfather's behavior. Then there are the odd, almost surreal confessions that leave you questioning my questioning reality. Once, a guy I barely knew started telling me he believed he was part wolf. This was in the late 90s before the whole furry thing was widely known, so I just thought it was weird but harmless. He claimed his hairy arms were proof and started growling mid-conversation. That's when I decided I'd heard enough and walked away. Other confessions

have hit me while working as a massage therapist. Many of my clients are veterans or first responders. Their bodies often store trauma that surfaces during sessions. One man broke down on my table, recounting how he'd collected the remains of his friend after a deadly explosion. Another officer described a raid on an abusive father's home that revealed horrors too awful to repeat. Both men cried as if the floodgates had opened. It wasn't the gruesome details that shook me but the raw emotion they finally released after years of bottling it up. I've also had my fair share of morally gray confessions. A friend once admitted he secretly baptized a deceased infant at a hospital where he worked. The baby wasn't even his patient. We begin. Today's

story begins with a woman named Tamara Michelle Douglas, better known as Tammy. Tammy was born on May 4, 1970, in Pasadena, California, the daughter of Phyllis Cooper and Ronald Douglas. It is said that she had quite a few siblings, and all of them, without exception, were accredited members of the gifted students at Cerritos High School. At the age of 13, she moved with her family to Springville, Utah. She played the drums and the clarinet in the high school band and was also the editor of the senior yearbook. She loved writing and reading, and at home, she had a small library. She collected all kinds of books and loved playing librarian, something she did practically her entire life. She lent books in a very peculiar way. She had loved

library cards, due dates, and if you missed the deadlines, she find you. Over time, she became the secretary of the Springville Parks Department. And it's at this moment that I must introduce something very important, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon Church. Apparently, Tammy was raised in this religion and it was within it that she met the man who would become her future husband, Chad Guy Daybell. They liked each other, started dating, and in 1990, they decided to get married.

Over the years, they had five children, and Tammy became a homemaker. And now, we must get to know Chad. Within his church, this man was very well known, known and respected. Chad was a highly successful man, completely devoted to his beliefs. He always went to church, fulfilled every obligation, and was said to be a very hardworking man, so everyone saw him as a good catch. In 2004, they founded a publishing house together, Spring Creek Book Company, and there, Chad published a total of 25 books. On top of that, he created a religious podcast. He started giving talks, lectures, everything in his life revolved around religion, and his five children were also deeply involved.

In 2015, the entire family moved to Salem, Idaho, where Tammy became an assistant librarian at Central Elementary School. in Sugar City, Idaho. Everything in her life was perfect. She was friendly, kind, had friends everywhere, everyone loved her. She was the perfect wife and mother. And according to doctors, she was in perfect health. She led a healthy life, exercised, had no health issues, everything was perfect. But on the morning of October 19, 2019, she was found lifeless by one of her children. apparently, Tammy didn't wake up. The night before, she had supposedly had a coughing fit, but no one in the family thought much of it. She coughed in front of everyone, drank some water, went to bed, and then the next morning, she didn't wake up. As you can

imagine, everyone was devastated. She was only 49 years old, with her whole life ahead of her, and both her children and husband were completely shattered. They didn't understand anything. They didn't know what to do. And when the coroner suggested an autopsy, everyone said no. In fact, her death was ruled natural. And that's where her case seemed to end. One, two days pass. Two weeks.

And then her husband does something odd. Everyone thinks he's disconnecting, that he's so heartbroken he needs to escape, get away, change the air. But when he returns home, he does so. so with a new wife, a woman named Lori Valo. For more than 20 years, he had been with Tammy. They were married, happy, had five children. Their life was seemingly perfect. And in just two weeks, he had a new wife. A new wife whom he was calling, the love of my life. So, of course, his children decided to investigate, discovering that this woman, Lori, had a life very similar to Chats. Just a few months earlier, her husband had also died.

But that's not all. The year before that, her previous husband had also died. This is where today's intriguing case begins. Laurie Cox was born on June 26, 1973, in Loma Linda, California, the daughter of Janice and Barry Cox. Lori had four brothers, and her family was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In fact, they were very involved in those beliefs. They never missed church.

And something interesting is that the family dynamic was quite closed. For the children, their day-to-day life was normal because they were born and raised in that environment, but to outsiders, it might have seemed extreme. Barry wanted to follow the biblical precepts to the letter and believed his family was the true future. The rest of the world didn't matter. They were superior to others, in intelligence, beauty, values. The Cox family was perfection, and social norms made no sense to him.

What's more, he believed the world was lost, and the proof was his absolute opposition to the government, and, of course, to paying taxes. For decades, he and his wife had legal battles with the IRS, accumulating a debt of over $300,000. In fact, according to Barry, the problem was this. the federal income tax is illegal, and the IRS is a dishonest agency. Barry was even reprimanded by an Arizona judge in 2018 for acting as a lawyer without qualifications. So, as you can see, this man always thought he was above everything and everyone. Above others, above the law, and according to some sources, he may have had narcissistic traits, which one of his daughters, Lori Cox, allegedly inherited. It said that she loved being the

center of attention, loved being admired and adored by everyone. She was always very popular, and boys were always chasing her. After graduating in 1992, she married her then-boyfriend Nelson James. But the marriage didn't last long, and three years later, she married her second husband, William L. La Jolla, with whom she had her first son, Colby. But in 96, the marriage ended. The following years are silent. She moved with her son, moved on, and her family says she was the perfect mother, loving, attentive, and a hopeless romantic. Which she proved in 2001 by marrying for the third time, to Joseph Ryan. Joseph was a member of the military and served for several years.

According to those who knew him, Joseph, better known as Joe, was a charming guy. He was kind, warm, cheerful, and with him, she had a daughter, Tiley Ryan. People also emphasized that he was a good father, attentive, dedicated, loving. A present father. He loved children and eventually adopted Colby as his own son. However, at some point, everything changed. Reportedly, Joe became violent, and in 2004, Laurie filed for divorce. From there began a legal battle for custody of the two children. For the divorce, she claimed abuse. And after that, the long custody battle began. At first, she didn't bring up anything else, but sooner rather than later, she claimed this man had sexually abused her two children. In Tiley's case, we don't have proof. But in 2020, Colby confirmed that it was real, that he was a victim. Be that as it may, the point here is that the judge said there was no proof, and therefore, Joe was acquitted. From there, the tension grew.

At this point, it said she began spending a lot of time with her brother, Alex. And the more time they spent together, the more disturbed they seemed. They spoke openly about wanting to kill Joe. At first, it seemed like jokes, offhand comments. But these conversations intensified, they made plans, picked dates. People didn't take them seriously. But in 2007, when Joe went to Lori's house to pick up Tiley, Alex Cox lunged at him and attacked him with a taser. And that's when all the alarms went off.

Lori and Alex had planned to kill Joe. They planned how to do it. Alex was going to use the taser, take him to a field, shoot him, and then bury him. Well, Alex tried to use the taser, but it didn't work. Joe called the police, and Alex went to jail. Joe spent some time in the hospital, and Alex spent 90 days in jail. But according to witnesses, he served that sentence with his head held high, believing he had done justice. But this story didn't end there.

Lori told everyone she was furious and publicly admitted they had planned it. Lori said she had hired her brother to kill Joe for what he had done to them. She said people don't get away with things like that. She claimed she lost her mind over what he had done. Statements from Angeline Lowe, a close friend of Laurie Valo. After divorcing Joe in 2006, Lori got married again in Las Vegas, this time to Leland Charles Anthony Valo, who according to witnesses, was the ideal husband for her. Charles had a fairly normal life.

He was married for 12 years to a woman named Cheryl, with whom he had two sons. sons. He was very charming and always dressed well, definitely a salesman. He helped a lot of people and had many good friends. He came from a large, very united family. And here was this interesting guy from Louisiana who ended up in Austin. And as a father, according to Cheryl, he was always a 10. He took them fishing, camping, to the Boy Scouts, he loved doing all that. Charles was athletic, but his kids didn't even like baseball or football. They played rowing and soccer, and he supported them a lot. The marriage was good, but at some point, they divorced and went their separate ways. She rebuilt her life, got married, and Charles did the same. However, Cheryl never liked Lori.

There was something about her that seemed very strange, suspicious. And she sensed that Charles was witnessing everything Laurie was doing in court over the custody battle with Joe. Laurie was fighting Joe in court, and the whole process seemed to excite her, she loved the attention, playing the victim. In the courtroom, Laurie played a role, and when she came out, she was someone completely different. Two-faced. A complete actress. It was very strange, but Charles loved her. That's when I realized she doesn't do what she's told, she does what she wants.

I saw that many times in court. So I asked the judge to please review the situation. Her sons would be going to that woman's house, because now Lori lived with Charles. They installed cameras, reviewed everything, but apparently, Lori didn't do anything wrong. Yes, she was strange. Yes, she had a suspicious, sinister vibe, but aside from that, she was a good mother. The cameras were removed. Time passed.

And suddenly, Lori and Charles moved to Arizona. Cheryl's sons now had to travel a lot, and every time they did, when their father was working, Lori would leave the house, even though she didn't have a job. She said she was busy, had things to do, but never said what those things were. Everything was very strange. But on the outside, the family seemed happy. Normal. To be continued.

But outwardly, this is a very strange. family appeared happy and normal. In 2014, Charles and Lori adopted Joshua Jackson Ballo. The little boy was diagnosed with autism, and they did everything possible to make his life easier. In fact, Chaz spent a lot of money on a service dog, and outwardly they were the perfect parents. They gave him special codes, were very dedicated to him, and truly loved him. Joshua was a charming and very intelligent boy. On social media, he was a social media, they always seemed very happy, family outings, meals together, all smiles, and happiness. But in 2015, Laurie began to change. At that time, she became interested in the series of

books standing in holy places by Chad Guy. In these books, the author expressed his beliefs about religion, particularly regarding the end of times and the apocalypse. These were radical ideas from the author, and everything revolved around the apocalypse, which became an obsession for Laurie. She read book after book, absorbed the concepts, and became obsessed. She became a fanatic of Chad, and as time went on, the only subject of conversation for her was him, his books, his beliefs, his way of thinking. Chad DeVell was her only topic of conversation. In 2018, two very interesting things happened. The first was in April of that year when Joe, her ex-husband, passed away, supposedly from a heart attack in

Arizona. The story Lori told was very intriguing. According to a friend of hers, April Raymond, she said the following, if I remember correctly, what she told me is that they hadn't heard from him for a month, so she and Tiley went to check on him, or to see him, because I suppose Tiley had a key or something like that. When they got there, they found him dead. However, according to the Phoenix police, it was a neighbor who found him. A strong, unbearable smell emerged from his apartment, so the neighbor called 911, and that's how the police found him dead. So, in reality, Lori didn't find him, or at least, not officially. Joe's death, according to Adam Cox, Lori's brother, was very convenient because now Lori would receive a lot of money.

It's strange that Joe, her ex-husband, supposedly died of a heart attack just when they were desperate for money, and it's strange that he left $50,000 to her, and $2,000 to Tyley. Nevertheless, the police assured that his death was due to natural causes, and therefore, they didn't investigate it. The next event that occurred that same year was in October, when Lori and two of her friends attended a conference by Chad DeVell. Initially, they went just to listen as an audience, but when it was over, Lori went to look for the man, and according to her friends, the spark flew immediately between them. They flirted, exchanged numbers, and from that moment on, they became inseparable. They spoke every day, chatted, did video calls, and as

time passed, the connection became more and more intense. They didn't hide it, didn't try to disguise it. Soon, Laurie started saying things that didn't make sense. She told Charles that Chad had told her that she had a gift, that she had a special power, a goddess inside her, and that she had probably had other lives, which to Charles were blasphemies. He warned Laurie and told her that what she was saying made no sense, that this man was brainwashing her. And the truth was, what she was telling him was just a small part because the full story was much darker. What Charles didn't know was that it wasn't just that she had a gift or was a kind of goddess, what they had came from past lives.

Chad told her that she was a goddess and that in past lives, they had been married several times. He also told her that people were either represented by light or darkness. People of light were authentic, true, pure, and those of darkness were possessed. In some cases, possession turned you into a zombie, and the only solution was death because you were no longer yourself, you were a demon. This detail would later become crucial. He also told her that her, great mission, was to save 144,000 people because the apocalypse would come in 2020. They kept getting closer, talking more, calling each other, sending messages, becoming lovers,

and appearing together on his podcast called Preparing People. In every episode, they talked about the apocalypse, visions they had, their gifts. From here, the decline began. In January 2019, Lori told her, Charles things that made no sense, and by February, she was completely unhinged. She told him she was the reincarnated wife of the founder of Mormonism and that she no longer cared about him or their son Joshua. She looked very serious, convinced, with a lost look. At that moment, Charles knew he had lost her. He went to court, filed for divorce, and also requested a restraining order,

because he believed Lori had become dangerous. He saw her as capable of anything, of hurting them. So, he asked the courts to protect them. Unfortunately, it was too late because Laurie had made a decision, Charles had to disappear. On July 11th of that year, Charles went to pick up his children, and then Alex Cox, Laurie's brother, pulled out a gun and shot him, killing him instantly. According to Alex, it was in self-defense. He said Charles had come at him with a bat, and he had just defended himself.

Charles bled out, and they waited 43 minutes before calling 911. When the police arrived, they questioned Alex, who spoke of self-defense. They also questioned the daughter, who also said it was self-defense. Finally, they questioned Lori, who almost laughed, remained calm, and acted as if it wasn't important, as if Charles wasn't anyone to her. And as incredible as it may seem, the case was closed as self-defense. They left the police station, went home, and Laurie took out her phone and sent the following message in the family chat. Hi, guys, I have some very sad news.

Your father passed away yesterday morning. I'm working on the arrangements and will keep you updated on what's going on. I'm still not sure how to handle things. I just want you to know that I love you, and your father loved you too. After Charles's death, Lorry received a large sum of money, and yet, the following month, she went online to sell her son Joshua's service dog. So, for the family, it made no sense. After Charles's death, everything started downhill.

In early September 2019, Lori, her brother Alex Cox, and her two children, Ty and Joshua, moved to Rexburg, Idaho, coincidentally very close to where Chad DeVal, her lover, lived. On the 8th, the four of them went on a trip together to Yellowstone Park. They took very happy photos, smiling and enjoying themselves, but after that day, Ty disappeared, and Laurie didn't call the police. The next morning, on the 9th, Alex Cox's phone was located at Chad's house. A few hours later, he returned home with Lori, and just as he left, Chad sent his wife a message saying that he had found a raccoon in the backyard and had shot it and buried it in his

pet cemetery. That is, he basically buried it in the backyard. His wife responded not to worry. Days passed, and on the 22nd, Lori received a new visit from her niece Melanie Gibb and her partner David Warwick, who decided to stay at her house for a few days. As soon as they arrived, they saw Joshua, but the next morning, he was nowhere to be found. When they asked about him, Lori said that he had been behaving like a zombie and that Alex had taken care of him. While saying this, Alex's phone was located at Chad's house. A few hours later, Lori called the school and said that Joshua would now be studying from home. After that, no one saw him again.

People started asking about the children. She didn't respond, kept evading questions. Joshua's grandparents called constantly, but Lori never answered. Tiley's family, the same. And her older son Colby asked where she was. the children were, why no one called. But this woman said she knew nothing. When the police searched, they found that the vehicle belonged to Charles Ballo, Laurie's deceased husband. The first thing they did was investigate Alex Cox, Lori's brother, and they found his location matched the time and

place of the shooting. He had been searching for ways to kill someone online, and most infuriating of all, Lori had been texting him about it before and after the event. They were both accomplices. Until now, the victims of the case were relatives of Lorry, but now, the focus shifted to Chad DeVell. On October 9, his wife, Tammy DeVell, was shot at with a paintball gun by someone wearing a hood. The person entered the house, called the police, and by the time the police arrived, that person was already gone. At first, they thought it was a prank, an attempt to scare her. But on October 19th, Tammy didn't wake up, and Chad requested. that no autopsy be performed because he was convinced her death was due to natural causes.

The family was devastated. In appearance, he seemed devastated, very sad, distressed. But two weeks later, he went to Hawaii and married Lori Ballo, which caused an immense public outcry. No one understood what was going on, and no one believed it. Joshua's grandparents reported the child's disappearance. They appeared on television, attracting a attention, which prompted Tiley's family to report the disappearance of both children. The case became a media spectacle, and Laurie Ballo said nothing. The cameras came looking for her, asked her questions, but this woman never opened her mouth. It was such a strange case that the police began unraveling everything.

They discovered Joe's death, Charles's death, the issues with the children, the shootings at the ex-husband of Laurie's niece. Alex Cox was always involved in everything, but unfortunately, they couldn't do anything about him because on December 11th, he died suddenly at the age of 51, supposedly from natural causes. Alex may have escaped, but Chad and Lori weren't going to. The next day, Tammy's body was exhumed, and the coroner considered her death suspicious. On January 3rd, 2020, Chad's house was searched, but nothing strange was found in the first investigation. They examined phones, locations, messages, and emails, and demanded Lori immediately reveal where the children were. But she refused to say anything.

They gave her until January 30th to say where they were and turned them in. But when that date arrived, she did nothing. Little by little, the police started putting things together, and on June 9th, they searched Chad's house again, this time including the garden, and unfortunately, they found a lifeless body. bodies of the two children. It was from this moment that the trial began. On May 25th, 2021, Lori and Chad were charged with first-degree murder of Tiley, Joshua, and Tammy. The prosecutors said they killed them not only because of their religious beliefs but also to be together. Another motive was to collect life insurance money. From this point on, they were tried separately. On May 12th, 2023, Lorry was found guilty of all charges, and on July 31st, she was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

On May 30th, 2024, it was Chad DeVell's turn, who was also found guilty of all charges, and on June 1st, he was sentenced to death. However, I must tell you that the case doesn't end here, as this month, March 2025, two more trials will take place. Each crime occurred in a different state, and this month will focus on the crimes in Arizona, the murder of Charles Ballot and the shooting of Brandon Budrosh. The first trial will begin on March 31st of this year, but the next one still has no date. So, now it's your turn. What do you think about the case? Do you believe the sentences were just?

End. When psychologists share stories of working with individuals who turned out to be psychopaths, it's almost always crippling, unsettling, and deeply thought-provoking. From eerie moments to chilling confessions, these encounters reveal the complexity of human behavior and the challenges faced by professionals trying to help or understand individuals with psychopathic tendencies. Here's a deep dive into some of these unsettling stories, rewritten in an informal yet unique style, while sticking to the requested 3,800 words. The first encounter, Sarah, one psychologist recalls an experience that left an indelible mark early in their career.

After working in forensic psychology, they transitioned to working with children and adolescents due to the dangers they faced, including being physically assaulted multiple times. Enter Sarah, an eight-year-old girl from a seemingly loving and supportive family. Sarah's parents, balanced and devoted, had gone through a carousel of therapists before landing here. Most therapists struggled with Sarah because she wasn't your typical troubled child. She wasn't impulsive or prone to tantrums. Instead, Sarah was meticulous, calculating, and eerily calm. What set Sarah apart was her history. She had a disturbing habit of dismembering Barbie dolls and harming small animals.

But what truly alarmed the psychologist was how Sarah never got caught. Instead, she'd convince younger kids to do her bidding, a puppet master pulling the strings. During one session, Sarah's true nature emerged. Armed with a $500 testing booklet, Sarah began tearing pages, one by one. all while maintaining unbroken eye contact. When asked why she was doing it, Sarah simply smiled and said, What are you going to do about it? The psychologist, unfazed, replied, nothing.

It's not my booklet. That response threw Sarah off completely. For hours afterward, Sarah engaged in a battle of wits, testing reactions, pushing boundaries, and attempting to unmask any emotional response. Her parents, terrified yet helpless, later moved the family to a rural, forested area. Six months later, the area suffered one of its worst wildfires in history.

To this day, the psychologist wonders if Sarah was responsible or if it was mere coincidence. The teen gang member, another story comes from a mental health counselor at a residential program for adolescence. One of their patients, a teenage boy with a history of violence, seemed to embody the textbook definition of a psychopath. This teen had been in and out of gangs since the age of 12, with a rap sheet including murder charges and violent assaults. Despite his history, he appeared calm, even agreeable, during therapy. He talked about wanting a better life and moving on from his past. But there was always an undercurrent of something darker, a sense that his remorse was performative. The counselor recalls how the teen spoke about his future.

While he claimed to want a fresh start, he admitted that returning to his gang was his backup plan. He even spoke matter-of-factly about the crimes he'd committed, devoid of any genuine emotion. The counselor's gut told them the team was manipulating the system, doing just enough to get by. Despite the progress made on paper, the underlying coldness lingered, leaving the counselor with an uneasy sense that true change might never come. The arsonist teen, in one chilling case studied for research purposes, a 17-year-old boy set fire to his family's home, killing both his parents.

The boy had meticulously planned the crime, siphoning gasoline over several months to avoid suspicion. On the night of the fire, he doused the doorways with gasoline and set the house ablaze, leaving his parents trapped upstairs. When apprehended, the boy showed no emotion. Instead, he casually chatted with officers about video games and girls during his ride to the station. His only moment of irritation came when the car radio played music he didn't like. During his interrogation, the boy described the act as if it were a mundane chore, like taking out the trash. His calm, detached demeanor was described as deeply unsettling.

At one point, he even asked investigators if he could see his parents remember. not out of remorse but sheer curiosity about the aftermath of his actions. The counselor's brush with danger, a counselor once recounted an encounter with a client that left them shaken. The client, a seemingly ordinary man, described an argument with his partner in chilling detail. The argument, which began over a minor accident involving spilled water, escalated to the point where the man cornered his partner and wrapped his hands around their neck. What struck the counselor wasn't just the act itself but how the man recounted it, calmly, as though he were discussing the weather. Throughout the session, the client shifted

between charming and coldly manipulative, attempting to elicit reactions from the counselor. It was a terrifying experience, one that underscored the danger of working with individuals who lack empathy and emotional depth. A case of familial deception, in a twist-filled story, a psychologist working in educational psychology encountered a young woman who brought her seven-year-old sister for an evaluation. The child struggled with basic skills, leading schools to suspect the learning. disability. The older sister portrayed herself as a selfless caregiver, sacrificing her own needs to care for her neglected sibling. However, as sessions progressed, inconsistencies emerged.

The sister's story began to unravel, revealing a shocking truth, she wasn't the child's sister but her mother. Pregnant as a teenager, she tried to hide her condition, with her parents' complicity. The child's developmental delays were likely a result of prenatal neglect. The psychologist was left grappling with the layers of deception and the psychological impact on both sisters, the serial killers puppet master, a criminologist shared an unsettling professional encounter with the relative of a suspected serial killer. Though not directly involved in clinical settings, this criminologist worked closely with law enforcement and saw firsthand the influence of this relative on the killer.

It became clear that the relative had been the guiding hand behind many of the crimes. Law enforcement suspected as much but lacked the evidence to prosecute. Both individuals are now deceased, but the criminologist remains haunted by the chilling dynamic they observed. The born evil debate, in their career, this criminologist also encountered several individuals whose actions were so heinous that the question of nature versus nurture arose. Were these people born this way, or did their environments shape them into what they became? One individual, a highly intelligent criminal, evaded justice due to their cunning.

admitted to abusing animals as a precursor to harming children, a confession so disturbing that the criminologist couldn't share it with anyone, not even their closest friends or therapist. A chilling reminder. These stories, while unsettling, serve as a reminder of the humanity behind even the most heinous acts. As one criminologist eloquently put it, there are no monsters under bridges or in the woods. It's just us. We create the conditions for crime and evil as societies, communities, and nations. We're responsible for the the monsters we fear, final thoughts, the work of psychologists, counselors, and criminologists often brings them face to face with the darkest corners of human behavior. Whether it's a

calculating child, a manipulative teen, or a coldly detached adult, these professionals navigate a minefield of ethical, emotional, and personal challenges. Through their stories, we gain a deeper understanding of the complexities of psychopathy and the resilience of those who dedicate their lives to studying and addressing it. Finally, I found the true story. So, Here's the deal. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. It turns out, the older sister was actually the real mom of the little girl. Yep, she got pregnant when she was super young and tried, unsuccessfully, to terminate the

pregnancy by taking pills. The parents, completely ashamed of the situation, hit her away until the baby was born. Then, in a master class of denial, the grandmother stepped in to raise her own granddaughter as if she were her daughter. They even went so far as to move to a whole new city to dodge their child. judgmental stares of their neighbors. The whole family was wrapped up in this big, ugly lie. And as if that wasn't enough, they also ignored the fact that the little girl needed extra

care and attention. Honestly, the most disturbing part for me wasn't even the cover-up itself, it was how cruel the older sister, aka the real mom, was to her own mother just to keep the lie intact. That lie, though, came at a huge cost, and the one who paid the most for it was the little girl. Her development suffered, but no one seemed to care. troubled student, let me rewind a bit. I'm a teacher, not a psychologist. But I had this third grader, around eight years old, who transferred to my class from another school. Let's call him M. From the moment he walked in, he was quiet, too quiet. He kept to himself and didn't talk

to anyone. He had an IEP, individualized education program, but honestly, I can't remember what it was for. One day, I was writing on the board with my back turned, and out of nowhere, I heard this blood-curdling scream. I spun around, and one of the kids had a pencil stuck in their hand, like, actually lodged in there. Chaos erupted in the classroom. I asked what happened, and everyone pointed at M. I was stunned. What could have triggered him to do that? When I walked over to M, he was just sitting there at his desk, commas could be, like nothing had happened. I was in shock. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would do something so violent. Later, I decided to go through M's file from his previous school.

That's when I stumbled upon a note from his former teacher. Turns out, this wasn't his first time doing something like this. According to the note, M had stabbed another kid in the chin with a pencil. I was floored. I immediately wrote a letter to my principal, insisting that M be removed from my class, for the safety of everyone, including myself. Before any action could be taken, we had to meet with his parents. On the day of the meeting, M's mom showed up, along with his younger sister.

We explained what had happened, and the mom admitted that M hadn't been the same since their dad left. She also mentioned that the whole family was already seeing a psychologist. I'll admit, I felt a little bad for her. But then, toward the end of the meeting, I noticed something that made my stomach drop, M's younger sister had burned scars on her hands and arms. When I asked the mom about it, she told me, without much emotion, that M had poured alcohol on her and set her on fire. That was it for me.

I knew I couldn't have him in my classroom anymore. Eventually, M was transferred to a specialized school for kids with severe mental health issues. Years later, to this day, I still think about M. It's been about 16 years since all this happened, and I often wonder what became of him. He had so much anger inside, but he was also eerily calm, like he didn't fully grasp the consequences of his actions, or maybe he just didn't care. My wife, who is a psychologist, once told me that psychopaths and sociopaths often blend in with the rest of society. Their masters at hiding their strange behavior and replacing it with something that looks normal.

She even mentioned examples like Ted Bundy, Richard Ramirez, the Knight Stalker, and John Wayne Gacy. These men were monsters, sure, but in their younger years, they figured out how to act right to avoid suspicion. Gacy even got married and had kids. According to my wife, it can be almost impossible to spot a psychopath because they know exactly how to manipulate people. They'll say all the right things to seem normal. But if you look closely, there are often little tells, an unsettling enthusiasm when sharing stories, a complete inability to empathize, or a strange indifference to other people's

pain. Even so, not everyone who shows these traits is a psychopath, sometimes, it's just bad vibes. A resident's dark side, back when I worked as an orderly at a resident's dark side, back when I worked as an orderly at a residential facility for kids and teens with special needs near Chicago, I met this one resident who left a lasting impression on me. He was in his early twenties, and we actually got along pretty well. He loved sci-fi, just like me, and we bonded over that. But some of the more experienced staff warned me to be cautious around him.

He was incredibly strong and prone to delusions. One day, I came in for my afternoon shift and saw one of the morning staff members with his shirt covered in blood. Apparently, the resident had snapped during a class and attacked him, aiming for his face and even grabbing whatever objects he could use as weapons. After that, I kept my guard up around him. But what stuck with me was how he reacted after the incident. He knew what he'd done was wrong, and he understood that his actions had made the other residents scared of him. But there wasn't much remorse, at least, not in the way you'd expect. It was like he knew how to act sorry without actually feeling it. Years later, I heard he

been arrested for assaulting a caregiver at a group home. It broke my heart because, despite everything, I had hoped he'd find a way to turn his life around. But the system he was in didn't make that easy. A family crisis. I'm not a psychologist, but one weekend, I found myself in the middle of a crisis. My sister called me, panicking because her husband had threatened to end his life. I rushed over, terrified of what I might find.

Thankfully, he was alive, just sitting there, drinking whiskey, and acting like it was no big deal. When I confronted him, he tried to downplay everything, claiming he never said he was going to hurt himself. But then my sister came home and showed me the texts he'd sent her. They were chilling, basically a goodbye letter. Yet, when we called him out on it, he flipped the script and started blaming my sister for calling her parents and making a scene. I suggested counseling, but that just set him off. He went on this rant about how no one could tell him what to do. It was a mess. The sociopath I knew in college. In college, I knew this guy who was officially diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. He was the life of every party,

always surrounded by people. On the surface, he seemed like the perfect friend, charismatic, funny, and generous. But something about him always felt off to me. He was a compulsive liar, and I could never bring myself to trust him. One night, he followed me outside while I was smoking and tried to strike up a conversation. He was using all his usual tricks, charming smiles, subtle flattery, but I wasn't buying it. Eventually, I told him straight up that I didn't trust him and why. For the first time, he dropped the act. His face went completely blank, like all the emotion had drained out of him.

Then, he admitted it, he had been diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder and basically confirmed everything I suspected about him. Even after that, he never stopped trying to manipulate people. It was like a game to him. Whenever he got what he wanted, he'd catch my eye and wink, as if we were in on some private joke. It was unsettling, to say the least. The nurse's perspective, as a nurse, I've dealt with my fair share of psychiatric cases. One patient stands out, though.

He'd been brought in after trying to break into a family's home while they were inside. He claimed he didn't remember doing it, but during our conversations, he admitted some deeply disturbing things. For example, he once brutally killed his family's cat and blamed it on the dog. He even told me that when he broke into the house, he fully intended to hurt the people inside. I reported everything he said to the doctors, but to my disbelief, he was discharged the next day without any follow-up. It was one of those moments where the system felt completely broken. Final thoughts.

These experiences have shown me how complex and, frankly, terrifying human behavior can be. Whether it's a troubled kid like M, a resident in a facility, or someone hiding behind a charming facade, there's always more to the story than meets the eye. It's a reminder that understanding people requires empathy, patience, and, sometimes, a healthy dose of caution. As soon as he saw it, he knew it was the next piece of the puzzle. So he stopped his vehicle, walked over, opened the bag, and found a right leg. It all began on Sunday, March 22, 2009, in Cotteret, Hertfordshire. At 7 a.m., a farmer was doing his work on the corner of his property. Right next to the fence, he saw a travel bag.

He had a long day ahead of him and assumed it was just trash, so he kept working, plowing the land, tending to the animals. But by the afternoon, curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to take a closer look. His actions were simple, he approached the bag, stopped his tractor, got out, and opened it. Inside, he found a tightly sealed blue plastic bag wrapped in layers of duct tape. It was odd. He hesitantly pressed on the plastic bag and immediately realized there was something soft inside. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, none of them good.

So he pulled out his phone and called the police. A patrol car arrived at the scene, assuming it was a false alarm, thinking the farmer was overreacting, that it was probably just garbage. But when an officer opened the bag, they found a human leg. A perfectly amputated leg. The area was immediately secured, and a preliminary search for more evidence began. To start, although there was a road nearby, it didn't seem like the bag had been thrown from a vehicle. There were no drag marks, no mud stains on the bag.

It was as if someone had deliberately placed it there and then driven away. Second, there were no fingerprints on either the travel bag or the plastic bag. Third, the analysis of the leg revealed that the victim's DNA was not in any database, meaning they had no criminal record. However, one thing was certain, it was a left leg. But was it from a man or a woman? How had they died? Why was the leg there? What they did know was that the amputation had been done by a professional. The joints had been carefully separated, there were no saw marks, no knife

cuts. It was an almost perfect dismemberment. This led the police to initially believe that a doctor had performed the amputation, that maybe the victim had needed the surgery, and the hospital, unsure of what to do with the limb, had discarded it. But this explanation was, made no sense. The only way to find the killer was to find the victim. But as mentioned, their DNA was not on record. They had no idea if it was a man or a woman, how they had died, or even if they had been reported missing. With no leads, time passed. Then, on March 29th, another discovery was made, this time in Drover's Lane, Wilmcoat. Someone found another travel bag. Inside, wrapped in duct tape, was a plastic bag containing a left forearm, without an elbow or wrist.

Two days later, on March 31st, a farmer in Ashford, Leicestershire, noticed that some dirt had been disturbed near a corral. At first, he thought his dogs had been digging, but when he inspected further, he unearthed a human head. He immediately called the police, and the entire area was sealed off. Forensic inspectors arrived, along with officers from various departments. The farm was swarmed with law enforcement, and, of course, the press. The head was unidentifiable because the killer had removed all distinctive features. The eyes, nose, ears, tongue, skin, and lips were gone. However, they had overlooked the teeth, a crucial detail.

Experts determined that the skull structure suggested it belonged to an adult. male. The precision of the cuts indicated that the killer knew exactly what they were doing. The incisions were clean and deliberate. It seemed like they had done this before. With this grisly discovery, the media went wild. In October of that same year, the sixth installment of the Saw movie franchise was set to be released. This fueled speculation that the case was inspired by the films, or that the murderer was playing a game, assembling a human puzzle. The press dubbed it the jigsaw case or the puzzle case. All of the UK knew there were more body parts yet to be found.

And sure enough, on April 7th, the next piece appeared. A man driving along the A10 Road in Puckridge, Hertfordshire, spotted a travel bag on the side of the road. As soon as he saw it, he knew it was another piece of the puzzle. He stopped his car, walked over, opened the bag, and found a right leg. The final discovery came on April 11th. A green suitcase was found in a ditch in Stand-in, Hertfordshire. Inside were the right arm, the upper part of the left arm, and the torso. But there was no sign of the victim's hands.

Despite this, investigators finally had enough to move forward. First, the victim was confirmed to be an adult male with no criminal record. DNA analysis revealed he was of mixed descent, with part of the victim. Asian ancestry. Second, the body parts have been separated by a professional, a doctor, a butcher, a forensic expert, or a killer with experience in dismemberment. Third, with more of the body recovered, they could determine the cause of death, two stab wounds to the back. One of these punctured a lung. Fourth, the killer had done everything possible to prevent identification. The eyes, ears, tongue, skin, and lips were removed.

The hands were missing, but the teeth remained, and they would prove to be critical. At a press conference, police released details about the victim, his ancestry, height, and other characteristics, asking the public for any information. Tips began to flood in. Families of missing persons called in, hoping for closure. Among these calls, one stood out, someone claimed the victim was Jeffrey Howe. Some sources say it was Jeffrey's mother who called, while others say it was his brother. Jeffrey Howe had been reported missing on March 16, 2009, just days before the first body park was found.

Howe was born in 1960 and was 49 years old at the time of his murder. He was a successful businessman who sold kitchens. Before that, he had traveled across the UK and even worked as a chef in Italy. He loved football, was a Manchester. United Fan, had been married twice, and had no children. According to his brother, he was a cheerful, sociable man with many friends. But his neighbors had a different view of him. They described him as aggressive and unpleasant, someone who didn't like children. When police arrived at his apartment in Southgate, London, they expected it to be empty. But when they rang the doorbell, a couple

answered, Stephen Marshall and Sarah Bush. Stephen Marshall, 38, was a former bodybuilder, personal trainer, and ex-doorman. His last job was owning a gym, but it had gone bankrupt. He then met Sarah Bush, a 21-year-old escort. The couple had been living in Howe's apartment since late 2008. Initially, Howe had taken them in out of kindness when Marshall lost his business. But over time, they took advantage of him. When Howe asked them to contribute to rent, they refused. Instead, they killed him. Marshall was the one who dismembered the body, distributing the parts across the countryside. Surveillance footage later captured them disposing of the remains. The motive? Greed. After the murder, they spent house money on luxury items and sold his belongings,

including one of his cars on eBay. At trial, Marshall, initially blamed Sarah, but later admitted to the killing. He also confessed to disposing of bodies for a crime family in the 1990s. In January 2010, the jury convicted both of them. Marshall received a life sentence for murder, while Bush was sentenced for assisting in the disposal of the body. And thus, the jigsaw case came to a close. So the Jana went to them and, they were asked if they saw Sasty and the, woman responded in the name of the team. He said that they had seen her but that. Unfortunately I had bad news and is that Sasty had fled said he left, heard without saying goodbye without saying anything, and what was I painted? With a boy,

in May 2021 one of the more atrocious crimes in history was, a twisted bloody crime, ruthless but ever guilty, paid for what they did, evidence is a confession and was discovered that these people were actually, serial murderers however on the day, present has not yet done justice and this is where the sinister case begins of. Today Sazuayana was a member of a numerous family from Yamna A, small town located in Maper, Western Bengal, according to some sources. In his land there were only 4,000 inhabitants and all of them or at least. Most were dedicated to cultivating their land and raise animals also the rate. Crime was very low almost.

They all knew everyone. They respected and S.A.S. Gutey won the love. Of everyone who met her mother, he had heart problems and S.A.S. Gutey, helped everything helped him with the meal medication with. S.S. Gutee purchases was a key piece in. His family since childhood was shown as a very responsible person and delivered to others and something else. Interesting of her is that she was very intelligent and all were convinced that I was

going to get what was put. At 20 years SAS QD was studying, a second year at the University of the College where it was formed as nutritionist was a very studious and highlighted above the rest of colleagues taking out the best qualifications of its entire course but, despite being so successful, the feet in, the earth and helped others. Improve your notes gave them classes. Individuals managed time. I prepared Excel tables for them. All that made her very happy. I loved doing group jobs and, it was also very close and affectionate another. Very interesting point is that physically, it seemed harmless was thin, short, very little thing but I really had, a very strong character and was not left. Intimidate for anyone and this leads us to, year 2020 specifically at the time in. Those who began the pandemic every country saw it in a different way and restrictions arrived at times, different and not many countries were ready for something like that and a clear example of this was india the universities they were in big cities with very modern electricity but students many of them came

from isolated villages places without electricity with bad internet or directly without internet so keep studying from house was impossible for them and s as gudy when he learned of this he decided to protest in her case she did have internet electricity but new people who they do not have the same fate as her with which began a project for the government put the batteries planted His faculty and began to protest and, many more people joined. She complained online, with direction they distributed posters, pamphlets and claimed aid for, students you help S-A-S-Guty, managed to become a whole. Example in her free time this girl, immersed fiction and fantasy books, and I dreamed of traveling the whole world, planned trips that he never did for, lack of money but liked, imagine in that situation on a plane, in a different country he liked a lot, dreamed but unfortunately your, dreams would never be done.

Reality on May 3, 2021, presented as any other all the family gathered for lunch in the House of SAS Guteyana's parents and, I'm two 30 minutes at noon, Sasty started collecting, clean everything put inside sideways to, help his father man dedicated himself to, clean the stoves and she to scrub the dishes, but at some point he stayed, no soap to what he asked his, where there was more and after. The man gave indications left, of the kitchen when everyone ended the, tasks were divided went to there, rooms to the garden to the living room and about four. In the afternoon someone noticed that, the dishes remained dirty that, whole pica was full of glasses and dishes so they decided to call sasty, but the girl did not

respond was not in. His room nowhere in the house and, the family immediately became very, nervous a month before the Janna family, decided to make some reforms in the kitchen. So they called a contractor and this, suggested two men to fix in the kitchen but for reasons that, we do not know these workers were 10, no work days and May 3rd. They returned to work with a member, plus a woman at first were two men and May 3rd were two men and a woman so the Yonah were towards them and asked if they saw to Sasty and the woman responded on behalf of of the team said that they had seen but unfortunately had bad news and it was that Sasty had fled said he heard without say goodbye without saying anything and what had paint that he has escaped with a boy Sasty was an outgoing girl had everything and also had studies a career to escape with a boy were not her plans she wanted to study traveling the world had many plans and leave with anyone was not, in your mind and having been, would have shared with others without. This woman named Tupti-Patra, he insisted a lot repeated that he had, escaped that he had hurry, that did not

even say goodbye and the more. He insisted more rarely, everything seemed so. The family decided to divide several, people stayed at home, main others toured the gardens end. S.A.S. Gute's mother and brother. They directed their old house in this. Point I must tell you a little what is the area according to some sources was a house, a field destined to grow plants and raise animals and had some very remote areas that the family or, even played and among them, I found the first house that was high. They saw a very tiny residence, made of Adobe when they had no money. They lived there, but when they saved they, built a house with better, materials on the other tip of the farm, and Adobe's was abandoned son, as a warehouse as a resting place, but, apart from

that they didn't even touch her and, went to that place where the mother and the brother headed for the house, Maine toured the garden they arrived, to Adobe's house and recorded everything, but there were not and a trace of. S.A.S. Gutey looked under the beds and cabinets and realized that one of them was key by this about four 30 minutes in the afternoon. They decided to throw the door down and do it on the other side discovered the SAS life body Guteyana is completely torn and a piece. Of this was strongly tied in. Around his neck there was blood for all, parts on your face and your arms in your intimate parts and it was very clear that had been and another thing that was very clear is that the three workers knew something of the subject so immediately. They

called the police and accused them. Formally we are still devastated and, shocked with this tragic death in, our own family sometimes not even. My parents are even real to. Most of their lives passed in. India cannot believe that such a crime. Euro has occurred in your country of origin. Ains Vera Prima da S.A.S. Goudiana.

When the police arrived at the scene, crime began to, interrogations cordoned off the area, and they asked everyone and in that. The three workers were included, Bikosh Murmoo by Bel Dakota Munda de Yant, and finally Tupti Potra of Sabang Law. Police in front of the family itself asked the two men to take away, T-shirts and under these. They discovered dozens of scratches, scratches that implied that they were. The culprit Sazuayana defended, until the end and those subjects in there, bodies had the crime-proof but, the most interesting thing is that your clothes were, clean was impeccable and the police assumed that dirty clothes were, hidden somewhere so, registered all property and

they ended up finding in a corner the, used clothes at the time of crime. I was in that house on that property. They had wounds and the body had them. Clothes were on the scene everything pointed. To them and therefore pressed a little more and the three individuals do not. They showed a remorse PCE. They showed cold without empathy as if that. Theme not with them and that attitude implied another very interesting and is that all crime. I was planned to the millimeter knew what, what did what his victim would be, how to do it and wore replacement clothes, to commit the crime and flee without further ado. How is these three people logical? They were arrested and taken to police station, and once there I returned to question and, the more questions they were asked

more, things they had in fact confessed that they had previously killed more, women and that their modus operandi always. It was the same offered very, cheap pretended to be workers were going to, certain areas and quickly looked for, his victim a Begita Bella girl, thin that apparently did not have, strength, and then studied in the area there, kidnapped they were a section, they tortured her and finally killed her, from there they changed clothes and, fled without more and for when the family, he realized it was too late, because they were in another city in, poor villages the police did not usually act. DePriza and confusion became the best weapon to disappear without being, seen the families

went crazy, looking for victims and sometimes, it took days to find them days that they took the opportunity to flee the most. Far possible but Sasty's family, they stopped their feet more than, normal these criminals were, accustomed to attacking families of, under resources people who do not usually send, to your children to study other cities, and that many times do not know or read or, writing comes poor isolated areas, dedicate to the field to create animals, but, Sasti's family was completely different and the girl's father while, the criminals were at the police station, presented there with a document of, criminal complaint for the police to, was forced to make a, complete research

in this report. Initial the three subjects were accused, formerly of sexual solado murder, criminal conspiracy and search already, that had no permission to enter the, Adobe's house could only enter the main house since the reform was in your kitchen but once again i repeat that adobe's house could not enter the six in the afternoon of that same day gave start sasty's body autopsy yanna and this revealed things that will put you the spike hairs were estimated that s as gudy yanna was attacked between two thirty and three thirty p m on may third twenty twenty one and what he suffered was a authentic cavalry was brutally and also suffered manual strangulation the nose and the neck damaged organs and mutilated end.

They severely cut part of their body. These monsters made torture, was extremely painful and the worst. Of all, the crime was committed in, less than an hour these criminals. They were so accustomed to killing that. They knew what bones break and how to proceed, so that the victim could not flee or, neither will shout every aspect of the. Autopsy implied that these, criminals had done it before, previously killed and that modus. Operandi was not improvised everything was, planned and if they were released.

They would repeat it again that the police, I had to act as quickly as possible. Before the autopsy report the family was horrified and inevitably looked back like, I told you before this family a month ago I decreased reforms, specifically in the kitchen of the house. Maine and for this they called a contractor made a deal, what they wanted and this contractor called to two workers the workers arrive look, the kitchen and for ten days disappear. On the internet there is no information about.

We do not know if they were for parties of the town if it was for a personal matter, But the issue here is that May 3rd is return to work and bring to a third member and that person was, a woman well seems that during the 10 days of absence those two, workers plotted the perfect plan when they were hired were fixed on several neighborhood girls in the neighbors in the family and finally decided that his victim would be Sastiyana was short, thin very little, very sweet thing and apparently he was the perfect victim. Then they went to the next phase of his plan and was to study all the property. How was the main house like the garden as it was the secondary house and they set out that I was never going to that house. No one was isolated very removed was, very silent and the family and not even the. I stepped on but the problem here was to bring SAS-S-Quadi to that point and there enters. I play the third member of the woman the idea is the following criminals. They believe that Sasty will trust them and this mode takes it peacefully to Adobe's house but what happens that if they asked her things about the work. Girl would call her father since. And and after all the father was the person that hired these men he directed.

knew what to do and therefore, the best option was to call another woman, and that this person would be able to speak, with Sasty and get the girl, will entrust her any. Nonsense our friends and SASa squadie would accompany the woman to the house of, Adobe and once they're the men, would attack and kill her but what she is. People did not study is the way of being. Victim Sasty was very outgoing. He told his family where he was going, where did he like who liked who not, and Tupti Patra the woman insisted, too much that the girl had, escaped something that Sastie would never do in here. Another point arrives that will expose the hairs, at the end and is that having all three, criminals between bars the woman told, police who had the bag at home,

the Yana had collected the clothes, bloody had photos of the, wounds had confession, but, supposedly this woman's bag, he was at his victim's house so, asked permission to make a call, and he directly contacted the contractor, asked this contractor to, please go to Yana's house and, collected his bag and the man accepted. Without further ado, the call goes to the house of, the yanna and once their ask for the bag the woman but the family refuses in rotundo in several pages mentioned that he was practically kicking and then they opened the bag and they found two bills of tickets that amount of money was too much great for three simple workers and four the hypothesis of contractor was also behind that that man knew what was going to happen and still knowing who they were and he sent them to the house of the yanna here we reach the most outrageous of all and is that the police he took dna samples from the three suspicious and S.A.S. Guadi's body, yana, but after that, after this, proof left them freedom and this news. Indignant to the country the family of S.A.S. Guti could not be silent about this.

Theme and immediately spread the. History and social networks called on. Television press created a website we about the case disseminated. The names of criminals as you, I said at the beginning of the video in the area, in which everything happened never happened. There were hardly any crimes there weren't, just robberies and everyone knew each other. Among themselves it was a quiet place without conflicts but after the crime though neighbors panic many times i left open doors and children played on the street without supervision as they knew everyone did not distrust but the problem here is that the crime was not a simple kidnapping was somewhat brutal that it happened inside the victim's house within an area that should be safe for her so panic extended and even more

when the culprits they were on the street in the faculty in the that s as a scudy studied several protests against what had passed and demanded that the government did something about it that AP Ways, the culprits that will lead them to trial, to make them pay during the pandemic helped many people and, these now wanted to return the favor. They wanted to give it justice that the government was not giving him a, immediate detention tougher penalties a, hard punishment for these people, but nothing this case took a complete turn. Jiro that made Sasty's story will stop being imported and that is that too. Political parties decided to contribute there, Granite of Sand in this case the BJP and the TMC the media. They began to say that

Sasty was a leader. BJP party youth one of the two main political parties of the India on May 2nd, 2021 the TMC party, won the elections in the region in the, who lived Sasty and his family and media interpreted this crime as a accounts adjusting when winning the TMC. Thugs affiliated with said party, they decided to kill the leaders of the, otherwise the BJP and supposedly, among them was Sasty in this way the, the terrible crime no matter how bad. Sound was in the background because, for the population the victim of the case does not, He was someone without a person to, who wanted to silence the most media. Important from India took the case, as something political and not as a crime.

Brutal for what thousands of people, they thought the story was a lie that. Sasty had never existed and his. Death was invented to discredit, to TMC, but Sasty was real. History was 100% true and according to the, family was never affiliated with any. Political party was a good student. Good daughter, good sister helped. I wanted to travel more. I had dreams, but three patients decided that he did not deserve.

Be happy and after sneaking into your house, they killed form, ruthless and this leads us to the outcome of the case and is that in reality there is no one. With all the great controversy the case was, silence there is no sentence there is no. Arrests and the three culprits continue. In freedom what we know is that family created a page called justice. For Sasty and starting from this they are, promoting a signature collection, to bring the three to justice, guilty to the three people who, the moment ended in the, I am recording this are 28,000 signatures but need 35,000 so. Here Abogito in the description leave you. Direct link so you can, participate and so that we can get the three culprits to be taken before justice. So now, it is your turn what do you

think of the case and you think justice will finally be done.