Check cashing open near me

Hi everyone! I'm new here, and very hopeful that y'all might be able to help me! I'm trying to find the name of a book I read when I was a teenager. I really liked the book, but let a friend borrow it after I read it, and never seen it again. Unfortunately, I've lost the title, author, and most details over the years. I'll do my best to describe it below. Any help will be appreciated!
A teen girl ends up pregnant. She hides her pregnancy from her parents with baggy clothes, excuses for this symptom or that, and limited interactions with them. If I remember correctly, she ends up having the baby in the woods or has a stillborn, but either way, ends up burying the baby near a specific tree. Fast forward to her adult years, she's married and has kids (I think). Some weird stuff starts to happen. She starts seeing a baby, but the baby has really sharp teeth. Then, the next time she sees the baby, it's grown wayore than it should've. The baby eventually grows into a little girl with sharp teeth. The story ends with the woman fighting the girl and killing her. But, when the husband and kids get home, they find the woman dead, and no sign of the girl with sharp teeth.
I know this isn't the best description, but it is literally all I can remember... and even that much is very hazy. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, though, I would be so, so, so happy! I really want to buy the book or look for it at thrift stores/yard sales for it. So again, any help will be appreciated! Thank all y'all in advance! :)

Hi all -- 2023 Diamond Medallion here, sitting on some GUCs I need to figure out how to use (or let them expire next January). I live in Australia, so the only int'l destination on Delta metal available to me is the SYD > LAX route. I fairly frequently fly back to the USA to see family, and already have a SYD>LAX trip booked with 2 GUCs applied (1 outbound, 1 return).
I'm trying to avoid letting the other two GUCs go to waste, but don't really know of any options for burning them, aside from booking another SYD > LAX flight this year, which I'm having trouble justifying since the time / $ requirements are very high.
Research suggests Air France should let me burn GUCs, but every flight I'm looking at with Air France's website -- even ones to France -- routes me through USA, via Delta metal, and cost like $10,000 each way. I'm not even logged in to Delta or to Air France, just doing random front-of-the-website searches for flights originating in Australia, and still getting crazy results.
Does anyone have any ideas / sugggestions for ways I might be able to burn my remaining GUCs for flights originating in (or near) Australia, aside from flying DL 40 SYD > LAX?

The day seemed like it would be ordinary until the aeronautical community’s most sought after document showed up on my doorstep.
It came wrapped in brown kraft paper tied off with twine, and the exterior packaging had no return address nor any indication of a postage stamp. It was as though it had been simply bundled up and dropped into my wall-mounted mailbox by a random passerby.
No part of me was willing to surrender the strange parcel without opening it first. Regardless of who its contents truly belonged to, my eyes would be the first to see it. I removed the twine and then dug a thumb under a fold in the packaging paper before clawing it away to expose a brown tan notebook circa 1900. It was full grain buffalo leather with a crisscross of cord for the spine and a thick hand cut string keeping it sealed shut.
When I undid the string, the pages that had been gripped tight by the leather fanned out gently then returned to their original position, my eyes landing on the front page. It was without a printer’s mark and read in big handwritten type: “THE DIARY AND RECORD OF HENRY H. HELGELAND.”
I knew in that instant the package was in the hands of who it was rightfully sent out for. Not just because I’d recently lost my job as an associate at our city’s art museum but because of a separate, much deeper connection to the diary’s author.
Perhaps it’s in my best interests to turn it over to the National Archives, or the US Arctic Research Commission, or maybe even the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, but at the risk of seeing it blue-penciled to death, I’ve elected to instead share it here and now.
The world needs to know what happened.
---
Henry H. Helgeland — my great grandfather — was a severe looking man with a walrus mustache and a bone to pick with anyone who ever doubted him. He was born in Oakland, California in 1871 and was, by all available accounts relayed to me, well-behaved and well-liked. His father worked a lucrative job in the shipping industry, transporting timber between San Francisco and the Central Valley. Two years into Henry’s life, his mother would contract a fatal case of diphtheria and die shortly thereafter; when he was old enough to understand what had happened, Henry “yearn[ed] fervently for a reunion to mend [his] great anguish and sorrow.”
Near the turn of the 20th century, Henry attended Stanford University’s Department of Mechanical Engineering, where he learned everything from thermodynamics to machine design. But it was a lecture about polar transportation that would ultimately kindle his interest in a separate enterprise: arctic exploration. Indeed, the race to the North Pole was well underway, with naval officers, geologists, and aeronauts around the globe vying for the chance to make history. My great grandfather, like many of his peers, propounded the theory that he, and he alone, would be the first to reach the Great White North.
In 1895, Henry graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering and sought to expand the member list of the so called Ascension Society, a student organization he’d assembled to aid engineering graduates with materials science. Many of its constituents had engaged in research projects and experimental setups to hone their craft of mechanical systems, but in time, however, the venture would instead prove a hotspot for investors and philanthropists. Donations averaging up to $5,000 helped fund and promote the fantastic ambitions of my great grandfather. So long as the Ascension Society was gracing him with their support, he’d be the first to reach the North Pole.
In early 1898, armed with enough capital, Henry used the proceeds to purchase the materials required for the balloon.
---
A notable circus at the forefront of traveling attractions in the early twentieth century was The Fielding Troupe. With its impressive lineup of talent — from fire eaters and aerialists to equestrians and strongmen — the ensemble drew crowds from nearly every town in western America during its historic run. Its wide reach would ultimately reel in many notable faces, including my great grandfather.
Prior to a performance in Oakland, the Fielding Troupe led a procession through the town around Stanford University, announcing their arrival with a parade of wagons, floats, and animals. The strategy, as it were, was to drum up as much publicity and fanfare as possible. Evidently it worked, as a healthy fraction of the faculty and student body at Stanford made the trip over to Oakland in order to see the troupe in action.
Surrounding their arena with two hundred feet of heavy duty tent canvas, the troupe put on a show for the ages the night Henry was in attendance, with extravagant acrobatics, trained animal performances, and a special appearance from Curtis the Clown. Following a skillful display of juggling and good natured audience ribbing, Curtis’s master stroke was an intricate stunt involving balloons and wire flying. Firstly, he would inflate several multi-colored balloons and tie them off with string, securing them firmly in his grip. They served as a flashy distraction from the piece of flexible metal snaking out from the harness he had concealed under his equally flashy costume. Then, with a whisper of strength, a couple stagehands hoisted the balloon-carrying clown thirty feet into the air to make it appear as though he was levitating by virtue of the balloons alone. A separate performer — a marksman — showed off his sharpshooting skills with a Winchester model rifle and gunned down the balloons, exploding each one as the stagehands loosened their hold on Curtis’s harness until he was eased to the ground.
Henry watched the routine with eager delight. Seeing Curtis the Clown float above a hundred or so onlookers helped stir within him a plan. The ceiling of the Big Top Tent where Curtis had concluded his ascent represented more than the centerpiece of a traveling circus.
“Ascendancy,” Henry muttered to his wife Ruth. “This is how we get to the top of the world.”
---
The spherical vessel measured sixty-five feet in diameter, with a capacity of over 200,000 cubic feet. Its construction was overseen by Henry and a couple french engineers who installed in its gondola three berths and ample ballast to keep it stable. The gondola, a carefully constructed assemblage of wicker and chestnut wood, was built as such to bar any interference to the magnetic instruments of the explorers. Keeping it shielded against severe weather conditions was a varnished silk calotte and a vaselined net composed of over four-hundred hemp cords. A bamboo pole was attached bellow the carrying ring to attach the side sails and, perhaps most notably, the balloon was fitted with hemp and cocoa nut fiber guide ropes to help steer and maintain a consistent altitude.
After two years of exhaustive construction, work on the balloon was completed in 1900. Henry named it Ascension, after the society that funded its creation.
---
What follows are several selected passages lifted directly from Henry’s memorandum, transcribed by me. The first entry reads:
“At nine o'clock on the forenoon, May 5, 1900, under the auspices of the Ascension Society, we embarked from the 71st parallel on our quest of the Pole. Our great journey sets off from Point Barrow, Alaska following a grueling adventure aboard the steamer Sursum. I, Henry Helgeland, travel forth, accompanied by Charles Ringvold, esteemed navigator, and Edward Meyer, long celebrated physician, into the arctic wilderness. Together, our efforts will generate a most formidable team and an unwavering spirit. We will ascend.”
Indeed, the SS Sursum disembarked from a port in San Francisco in mid May of that year; it offered easy access to the Pacific Ocean and sailed through the Bering Strait, covering over 3,000 nautical miles before reaching Point Barrow on July 2.
When the balloon took off, carried by a fierce north east wind, it was to a thunderous applause from those that had come to bear witness to the bold endeavor. Among them were crew members of the SS Sursum, high ranking associates of the Ascension Society, and carpenters tasked with helping the balloon reach its initial phase of liftoff.
As it elevated to 300 hundred feet and passed around an onlooking whaler, Henry was reported to have shouted: “To the top of the world, hurrah!”
---
36 hours would elapse before a second entry was made.
“July 4, 1900, Lat. 77° 48' N, Long. 143° 4' W. We are soaring at a height of 600 feet above the Earth's surface, traveling at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. Our morale remains similarly aloft. Charles relayed to me that, God willing, we anticipate reaching the pole in roughly 800 miles. Beyond the drag ropes lending their ballast to our journey, optimism is our guiding force. We will ascend.”
Turbulent air currents had a different plan in mind, however.
“July 5, 1900, Lat. 80° 8' N, Long. 138° 37' W. Alas! Our aerial journey came to an abrupt halt yestereve on the 80th parallel. We voyaged as many as 500 miles before a forceful downdraft spun our vehicle on its vertical axle and compelled it into a sharp descent; we had lost what we estimate to be just over 100 cubic feet of gas.
“Edward suffered severe injuries during the initial impact and claims his vertebrae have been shattered, leaving him immobile. We’re at the mercy of the floe on which we now rest, at the mercy of the Polar Sea. Should we face the specter of death, we shall meet it with unwavering honor. We will ascend.”
---
“July 6, 1900. We find ourselves solitary in the barren expanse, accompanied only by bergs, ice-fields, and majestic glaciers. Our rations encompass a container’s worth of hardtack, enough salted beef for approximately one week, canned stew, dried apricots, some chocolate bars, and seven bottles of ale.
“Edward’s outlook remains grim; he suspects he’ll never walk again. In witness of his current state, I’m beginning to share in such apprehensions. Edward, whom we have reposed on on of our sledges, fears that the opportunity to make known the great love he holds for his mistress Rebecca is one he’ll never be granted. ‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I assured him. ‘Our journey to triumph will not be thwarted by minor inconveniences.’
“We’ve plotted the course to our next destination: that being Herschel Island, located off the coast of Canada in the Beaufort Sea. Charles — who shares in Edward’s dismay — estimates a three month footslog spanning just under one thousand miles is in store for us, perhaps more given Edward’s ailment. I am determined to see this mission to its completion, yet survival remains a paramount desire. Who’s to recount our extraordinary journey should we fail?
“While establishing our encampment and scouting the local flora of the area for additional sources of sustenance, I happened upon a plant of an unknown species. Half a meter tall, bulbous tubers, and thin roots terminating in clusters of white flowers; intuition suggests this is a water hemlock, which precludes it from edibility. Nevertheless, I shall regard this finding as one of great fortune. A portent of divine value. We will ascend.”
---
Two days later, gold prospectors off the Alaskan coast at Nome beach were in the process of emptying their sluice boxes when from the sky flew a carrier pigeon directly to their mining site. It bore a label with the inscription “Helgeland” and contained the following dispatch:
“July 7, 1900. First dog watch. Three southerly traveling carrier-pigeons were sent off at approximately 7 h. 40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the following among them. This is Rear Admiral Charles Ringvold of the United States Navy and the Helgeland Balloon Expedition of 1900. Our hopes of reaching the pole have been reduced to naught. Assistance urgently needed. Our destinies have hitherto been unknown, and now my fears have been actualized. GO IN TERROR OF HENRY HELGELAND. He is not who he proclaims to be. I volunteered for a man of honorable stature and venturesome drive. The man before me betrays neither.”
The remainder of the message was a hasty scrawl, decrypted only by the best in linguistics and modern codebreaking.
“UNASSISTED WE WILL PERISH HELPED WE WILL PERSEVERE PLEASE GOD HELP US HENRY WILL KILL US ALL DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT HE PROCLAIMS.”
The communication was immediately passed off to the Smithsonian Institution, where word fell within the earshot of Ascension Society proponents and additional members of the US Navy. A follow-up expedition — a rescue team led by Captain S. P. Matthews — was put together at once with the authorization of the Secretary of War.
Months later, after a congressional bill introduced to secure grant funding for arctic exploration — and thereby a rescue mission for Helgeland’s lost expedition — was successfully passed, the USS Greenwich departed from the San Francisco Naval Shipyard with a crew of thirty boatswains, medics, and deck officers among others.
What they would ultimately uncover puzzled them all.
---
“July 7, 1900. The team has fractured. We are without our provisions and without the morale that has served us thusly.
“Charles and I set upon the pursuit and capture of a walrus, a most strenuous task in the Arctic Circle. Furnished with a Winchester model .40-82, the sport skews in our favor but we are in no short supply of peril. These are one ton beasts with the strength of a hundred strongmen as they stave the ice, and yet it is not them I should have feared.
“’I can’t allow you to proceed further.’ I heard the click clack racket of the Winchester as Charles chambered a round and raised the rifle, training its twenty inch barrel toward my back after I had volunteered — quite ignorantly — to take the vanguard.
“’Charles?’ I managed between clattering teeth.
“’You’re a man of bold stature. An honorable man at that. But not honorable enough to die for. And that’s it, Henry. I will not die for you.’
“’You speak out of distress, not rationality.’
“’I’m as rational as one permits when I say we won’t all make it to Canada. You can’t expect us to sledge Edward for the next month and retain our strength. Our sanities.” I could hear him gulp, ‘our lives.’
“’You’re not who you say you are.’ I realized in that moment. ‘Not even an ensign would renounce his own crew. Who are you really, Charles?’
“His credentials were a farce; a clever scheme to scrape through the expedition’s vetting process. He was no navy-man nor expert nor navigator and if you piled his life’s accomplishments on top of one another, they’d be equal to that of a cretin.
“’Doesn’t matter any more, Henry.’
“’Then why haven’t you shot me?’
“I sensed beyond his terror a hint of reluctance and felt within him the trepidation of an amateur. The man had never wielded a firearm in his life and wouldn’t start hence.
“’In Your infinite mercy, hear my prayer. In Your boundless grace, grant me Your forgiveness,’ he muttered below his breath. I could’ve believed he’d have squeezed the trigger if not for the unexpected convulsion that suddenly brought him to his knees. Befallen by the strange attack, Charles unhanded the Winchester and collapsed to the ice in the midst of a crippling seizure. And in a matter of moments, he had succumbed to death.
“With some activated charcoal or perhaps an emetic, he could have eluded such a painful demise. I stepped over to look upon his body, his pupils dilated to the size of dimes. Reviewing the immediate symptoms, intuition tells me he’s become the latest victim of hemlock poisoning, the kind of amateur mistake I’d expect from someone such as Charles. Ideal timing, if I may speak candidly.
“Hope remains alive. I will ascend.”
---
Investigators with the crew of S. P. Matthews found everything except answers.
It took them all of three months to zero in on the campsite left behind by Helgeland’s expedition. Any prospect of finding the balloon itself was dropped by the wayside to preserve manpower and time.
The camp was discovered on the 79th parallel, not in any particular state of disarray but with enough evidence to suggest conflict had broken out between the members. Edward was discovered in a tent with the rest of the rations and a bullet hole stamped in the side of his head. There was no telling how long he’d been dead for.
Forty-five meters away from the camp, buried under a stalagmitic gathering of ice and snow, was the body of Charles Ringvold. A followup inquiry would prove my great grandfather’s claims that he was a fraud, but like Charles himself, the truth is buried deep under the surface. Edward and Charles are commemorated for their failed — albeit honorable — efforts in the face of great opposition.
The body of my great grandfather, however, was never found. Theories thus abound in the saga of Henry H. Helgeland and we are no more the wiser now than we were a century ago. He is remembered for murdering his men in cold blood, deserting them, and then yielding to the elements somewhere in the frozen hell of the arctic. The carrier-pigeon message sent by Charles corroborated the apparent facts.
But I know the truth. Because only I have the answers.
“July 8, 1900. All that remains is me, for everyone else has vanished. Edward and I regaled each other with stories of our mistresses as night fell upon our place in the arctic wasteland. Rebecca, Edward’s beloved, works as an expert seamstress in San Francisco and will no doubt be devastated when news of his fate reaches her. But the great memories they shared together, I assured him, will serve her well in the years to come.
“‘You shall be reunited at once,’ I whispered to him once more before executing the dying man with the Winchester. It is my turn to face whatever awaits me on the ice.
“My great anguish and sorrow have been mended.
“Ruth is calling to me now. Our son promptly requires our presence.
“I shall go to them."
The fruitless search for my great grandfather peaked at last with the unearthing of a path of footprints snaking away from the tent where Edward’s body lay. Investigators followed them for approximately ten meters before they abruptly ceased. Captain Matthews is quoted as saying: “it was as though the walker had simply floated away.”
And indeed, it was our family that won in the end, for my great grandfather received exactly what he wanted. The final, undated entry of his diary is comprised of but three simple words:
“I have ascended.”

My ex girlfriend (29F) had a big problem with me and my hobbies and passions. Im a 29 year old male working in film which I take very seriously. I also dance 4x a week in Salsa and on weekends practice Muay thai on both Saturday and Sunday mornings. These two hobbies give me so much pleasure and make me incredibly happy.
Often times I'll only have 1-2 nights a week free. With my ex girlfriend I wanted to be completely honest with her in the beginning and I told her that I take my work, passions, and hobbies very seriously and you may only see me 1-2 times a week. She said that it was very attractive but that "now you're getting a girlfriend". I felt like she didn't understand me...Fast forward 8 months later and she claimed I wasn't making her a priority. Both of these activities she also did previously and we talked about her joining classes (her idea) with me and be a dance/MMA couple but she never followed through with it.
Im a very easy going guy in relationships and have been told from past girlfriends Im super chill, no bullshit, good communicator, take the initiative and I make people feel comfortable and safe quickly.
Now here is where I am slightly torn. People, not just women, find others with passions, drive and goals to be very attractive and in life you have to do the things that make you happy. I also believe that when you date someone you need to continue doing the things that you did before dating. But where I struggle is maybe Im not willing to compromise my hobbies?
With my ex there were other reasons why we broke up (I initiated nearly everything - dates, sex, conversations, and I felt I always had to make her more happy) but the biggest thing was I never felt heard and understood with my needs - and my only main need is AUTONOMY. I also do know that I have Dismissive Avoidant attachment with secure sprinkled in there.Right now Im single and enjoying my life as much as possible but I was wondering if others have gone through something similar?
Maybe I just need a girl who also has a bunch of hobbies and is more secure if they dont see me often. Years ago I dated a girl who saw me twice a week and it was awesome. She never had a problem with it.
And no this post isnt bashing anyone who wants to see their partner more. If thats what you want thats great and no one is wrong with that they want in a relationship. And clearly I wasnt giving my ex what she wanted. I also dont blame anyone - I know the things I did wrong in my last relationship and Ive acknowledged them and took responsibility for it as well. Maybe Im just not ready for a relationship
TLDR: I put my hobbies and Passions first. Confused if this is sustainable. Would like to hear other people thoughts and their experiences.

I’m struggling and many people on a bunch of platforms are insisting that my problem is that my voice isn’t high enough, but I cap out hard at an E4 right now due to mixed voice not being a big thing for me as a result of limited soft palate control. Any advice on this front?
(Note: I have checked out the instructions on the screaming discord and cult of metal and neither really help me. I’ve had so many people tell me I’m doing it wrong but they don’t even know what I’m doing differently and I’m kinda confused.)

I'm experienced with shroom trips and I naively expected lsd to have more similarities than differences. I could not have been more wrong. Shroom trips for me have been like cozy dreams and when the trip ends, I feel normal and content.
I took one microdot at 8pm but didnt feel anything. I thought they might be duds as I hadn't stored them in the freezer, so after an hour I took a second microdot.
It was amazing. I had insane visuals. I sat gobsmacked in my driveway looking at the sky, the clouds swirling and pulsing in front of the full moon and listened to some music. I felt like the whole world was alive and I was personally connected to it. The energy of the world felt like this great and dangerous beast that was letting me near it for a moment. It was a deeply powerful and spiritual experience.
I am not sure how long after the trip started I went to bed. But I hardly slept and just had some kind of restless, anxious "dream" experiences laying in bed. When I woke up around 7am, I was dismayed to find I was still tripping a bit, seeing colors and light around the edges of things and text was wobbly. Finally, by 9am, all the hallucinations were gone.
But I've felt so weird all day. I don't feel like I had this great spiritual experience. I feel a bit paranoid and anxious, and emotionally raw. I just feel super off and unsettled and it's sort of tainting my feelings about the trip, which I thought went well last night.
Is this normal or did I have a bad trip and somehow not know it?

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

Since my son switched to the G7 the follow app goes hours to minutes with “NO DATA” it’s not good my settings is set differently for my son and he sleeps with his device near him and if it’s not giving me on the follow app readings how can I keep up. Am I the only one having this issue??

Hello I’m 25f my boyfriend is 29m. He is bipolar and he will have a few good weeks then it will get bad. He becomes angry over the smallest things. For example, I went swimming with our kids while he’s at work. I’ve recently lost a lot of weight and my suit was baggy. I made the comment to him and he got mad that I never wear one around him. He’s pissed and telling me to just shut up. This happens a lot. After every full moon damn near. He will tell me I’m nasty and fat. Much more than that..It’s so exhausting. I love this man with all my heart but what am I doing wrong? Am I his trigger?

It's weird how people bump into one another in places you wouldn't expect, right? Like you probably didn't expect to see that title when scrolling late at night, but here we are. And now we're having a conversation. Well, not really, but we could be! I'll be honest, this isn't the first post I've ever made here. It's probably not yours either. And that's totally okay. Sometimes things don't work out, or people don't see your post because you always decide the optimal time would be to post it at 10pm on a Sunday night. You know, there's all sorts of reasons we may find ourselves coming back here. But that's okay too! It's never too late to try again, right? Hi. My name is Jeff. You probably already guessed that, but maybe not. I don't know, I'm not next to you. I was never good at these things, so, I guess here's a list of things about me. That's what people usually do when they don't know how to communicate their personality, right? So, let's see here: I am 27 years old. Very cool, pinnacle of life, right?

• I have a full time job that I enjoy. I won't go into specifics here but it has helped me come out of my shell over the past few years and I am very fortunate for the chances people have taken on me to help me with that. Maybe you will too and message me. Just not for a job, please. I'm happy where I am.
  
• I am what many would consider a 'gamer', except I just say it normally in my absolutely not an accent Midwesterner accent, and not like some people do mockingly. I enjoy playing games, and do it fairly regularly. I don't really know how else to say it. Mock me if you will if that's not acceptable, I'm still going to do what I enjoy.
  
  • Side note, you can make these semicolon's underneath. How neat. I guess since I'm here I range from shooters to semi-strategy games, to a bit of everything but mobile games. Currently Sea of Thieves has ruled my free time, so ahoy me fellow pirates. Also, please stop sinking me. :)

​

• I make atleast one person laugh or smile a day. That's not an average, I'm afraid to say what the average is incase you're funnier than me and my quota isn't comparable. But sometimes people consider me funny. Sometimes.

​

• I tend to lean left, and am open to LGBT+ ect people. I am not necessarily looking for that romantically, but if you and someone you meet are, that's awesome and I hope the best for you. I don't tend to go into politics and such unless asked but just know if you are someone who tends to lean the other direction and or is vocal about being against those things, we probably won't really get along.

​

• I try to be creative, including writing stories, creating DnD campaign settings and running them, and just generally am usually thinking about something I could write or create. It's a fun hobby for me I've been doing to some extend dating back to my high school years, but has certainly ramped up and become more mature in recent years. - Before someone makes a joke of it, I'll beat you to it. No, I can't be a nerd because I'm not traditionally great at math, even with math rocks that go click clack. But, I like to make cool worlds, so there's that. What am I looking for in a fellow person?
• Preferably within my 'age range', so we'll say 24-30? If you're older or younger I'm sure you're a great person, just not what I'm looking for.

​

• Someone who is open minded and patient. Sometimes I may not understand something and need clarification, or may just do something stupid unintentionally. I'm sorry, I'm aware and can be advised of such without unnecessary insults. However, if I forgot to pick up our sitcom kid from school for an entire day in the rain, perhaps it's warranted.

​

• I would like to get a feel for our personalities before pursuing anything serious. Just because we may not be romantic doesn't mean we can't be two cool people who just enjoy talking to one another. I am generally a quick replier, although sometimes struggle with the confidence to reach out to others first. It's something I hope to get more used to with more actual experience meeting people.
  
  • On that note, I'm not looking for any sexy time hookups, so on the very slim chance you made it this far and that was the deal-breaker, my apologies.
• Someone with a sense of humor, or who can deal with my sometimes dull sense of humor. If you've made it this far, you are probably doing a great job at this and somehow found this entertaining.
  

​

• Ideally, someone who can share in my hobbies and passions, and compliment them. If you're also a creative person, or enjoy similar hobbies, that could be a great way to bond and see how we mesh just as people.

​

• I am looking for anyone specifically within the US. While I'm not expecting to find someone down the street from this post, more local (within a few states) is certainly a plus, but by no means a deal-breaker. I am generally happy where I am, I'm not expecting to move anywhere at this point, but who knows what can change.

I'm sure there is plenty more that we could talk about, but I am traditionally yelled at on the rare interactions these posts bring that I am not clear enough and have too long of posts. So, I tried to make this one a bit more fun, even if you aren't interested in me. If nothing else if even a little bit of what you read made you laugh or go, "Wow, look at this guy. What a post." in a slightly mocking way (without needing to explicitly tell me), then I'll consider my job done.
On the off chance you want to see what I'm like in a normal, non-mocking conversation, by all means feel free to reach out and we'll go from there. That's about it, I'm sure I've gone on too long in some cases, but hopefully you enjoyed the title atleast nonetheless. For all those out there looking for something fulfilling in their life, I wish you all the best.

You can chat +447593882116 (Telegram/WhatsApp) if you want The System By Todd.
I have The System By Todd.
Todd Valentine - The System is a revolutionary course, created by the famous pickup instructor - Todd Valentine.
The System by Todd covers everything you need to know to play the game. This program is applicable for beginners, as well as intermediate students.
In The System by Todd you will learn how to OPEN (Open, Premise, Establish, Narrative) as well as much more on how to lead proper interaction with girls, and how to close them (infields included)!
Todd Valentine's The System is one of the best and most effective courses ever created on dating, and one of the best choices you will make if you have decided to improve your game.
To get The System By Todd contact me on:
Reddit Direct Message to u/RequestCourseAccess
WhatsApp/Telegram: +447593882116 (@multistorecourses)
Email: silverlakestore/@/yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Hi there :)
This offer will earn you a total of $22.50. The platform is called Gemini and it is a crypto-native finance platform.
Tip: Quick offer to complete, make sure you use ActiveTrader to buy and sell for lowest fees, you can expect the bonus within 48 hours.
Gemini is a New York trust company regulated by the New York State Department of Financial Services (NYSDFS). They are subject to capital reserve requirements, cybersecurity requirements, and banking compliance standards set forth by the NYSDFS and the New York Banking Law.
Residents of the following countries are eligible for this offer: Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Finland, Hong Kong, Ireland, Italy, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Singapore, Sweden, United Kingdom, and the United States.
Check the steps below to understand the process to complete this offer.
Steps: 1. Comment $bid on this post and I'll send you my referral link 2. Complete your details and verify your identity 3. Deposit a minimum of $100 or equivalent in GBP, EUR, etc. 4. Make a trade (buy and sell Bitcoin on their ActiveTrader setting for minimal fees) 5. $15 of Bitcoin will be credited to your account 6. Sell the Bitcoin then withdraw your deposit and the bonus back to your bank account
I’ll send you $7.50 by by PayPal, Bank Transfer, Revolut, Cash App etc. once the bonus has been credited.
Check the terms here and for more information on the company check their homepage here.
You can also check out my other offers here, if you have any questions feel free to get in touch, and please send me a DM or message when you’re ready to start the offer.
Thanks!

Hey y’all. I am a lurker on my personal account, but I’m using a throwaway for privacy reasons. I (24F) and my husband (25M) have been married for 2 years. I found out a year into my marriage that he has been a porn addict since being exposed in 1st grade. He also is a survivor of SA as a child from his female cousin.
We are currently separated (not by choice, he is in the military) but I was able to visit him last week. We had a great time, and he has been clean for about 3 months. Yesterday I found out that he relapsed after checking our accountability app (Covenant Eyes). I’m just so broken right now and wanted to vent out loud. We are in the process of getting matched for couples therapy, and I am beginning individual therapy on Tuesday this week.
Here’s what I wrote him: “I'm serious when I say that you telling me "I'm sorry and I love you." Is not going to fix this. I told you before we left for our separation what my boundaries are and you need to decide if you want me or porn.
I don't believe you are sorry or that you love me because if you did you would have called me or one of your accountability partners before you did that. You would have confessed to me after you did it. You would have been HONEST when I confronted you. Sheepishly saying, "oh I just googled something" doesn't cut it. It was nice having about 2 weeks where I wasn't worrying about this all the time and now I'm back having nightmares about it again. It's so selfish. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep because your spouse would rather lust and commit adultery in their heart over prostitutes and porn stars? It sucks. Or had nightmares over and over that your spouse keeps cheating on you but won't admit it?
When you are really to be HONEST and actually LOYAL to me we can talk about it, but until then I need time to myself. I'm also disgusted that you asked me for inappropriate pictures mere hours after you did this.”
We had a good conversation after and I feel stronger. But it still sucks so bad that he relapsed. We get to see each other again in a week and a half and I’m excited but worried he will relapse again right after.
After confronting him yesterday I just laid in bed and cried listening to “You’re Losing Me,” from Taylor Swift. I don’t want to divorce him, but I didn’t sign up for this. I always feel broken after he relapses (this is number 4 maybe?) but over stronger that we were vulnerable together. If I knew about his addiction before getting married I would have waited for him to be strong in his sobriety. The lyrics hit so close to home:
“You say, "I don't understand" and I say, "I know you don't" We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time
Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? I'm getting tired even for a phoenix Always risin' from the ashes Mendin' all her gashes You might just have dealt the final blow
Stop, you're losing me Stop, you're losing me Stop, you're losing me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore for you 'Cause you're losing me
Every mornin' I glared at you with storms in my eyes How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick
And the air is thick with loss and indecision I know my pain is such an imposition Now, you're running down the hallway And you know what they all say "You don't know what you got until it's gone"
Stop, you're losing me Stop, you're losing me Stop, you're losing me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore for you 'Cause you're losing me 'Cause you're losing me Stop (Stop) 'cause you're losing me
My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me) My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)
How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me) And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her And I'm fading, thinkin' "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing) "To believe, unless you're choosing me"
You're losing me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore.”
Just thinking out loud, and I’m open to any resources you recommend.

Looking for 1-2 players for a Monster of the Week game that will involve the player(s) running 2-3 hunters themselves.
A short intro for the hunt:

When the night fell upon the town an eerie darkness seemed to seep into every crevice, casting long, sinister shadows upon the desolate streets. The air was heavy with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the distant sound of a slamming door echoing through the empty alleyways. Tattered remnants of torn posters and abandoned belongings littered the sidewalks, hinting at the hasty retreat of terrified residents.

Dim streetlights flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows that danced and swayed with unseen movements. The once-bustling town now stood as a ghostly remnant of its former self, its essence drained by the suffocating grip of fear. Windows were barricaded, doors locked tight, as the desperate residents sought refuge within the confines of their homes, their trembling hands clutching whatever feeble protection they could find.

The call was put out, and a few skilled individuals answered, the fate of the town resting in the hands of these brave souls who dared to confront the darkness head-on.

---------------------- Small note:
I'm not a new DM in the ttrpg sense, but I am entirely new to PbtA style of gaming and coming from the 5e mindset. Many rulings and approaches will inevitably be coloured by that experience. That being said I'd love to give it a shot since I've heard a lot of praise for the game online and for the way PbtA games in general, teach you some good GMing skills and habits.
I'm open to new or experienced players alike, I just ask for patience from you during the learning process. I've done forms in the past, but this time I'll try to do it via reddit dm discussion, so if interested shoot me a dm.