Rix sports bar and grill reviews
Namur, capital of Wallonia
2014.07.28 16:13 nath_vringd Namur, capital of Wallonia
Everything you'd like to know about NamuNamen is here!
2009.07.31 05:37 naewilder Mississippi Gulf Coast Redditors
Covering the cities of Bay St. Louis, Pass Christian, Long Beach, Gulfport, Biloxi, D'Iberville, Ocean Springs, & Pascagoula.
2018.09.12 00:32 AbsolutTBomb Newport, Tennessee
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2023.03.20 17:15 Got_ist_tots Need new tires and could use some advice
Need a new set for my 2016 CR-V LX AWD. It's listed as needing 215/70R16 I always like using Costco since repairs have been so easy when we get a screw or something. Looks like they have BF Goodrich, Bridgestone, and Michelin available according to their website. Several are out of stock, but there aren't too many listed in this size.
Bridgestone has $150 off a set of 4 (prices below are AFTER discount). Would those be the best bang for the buck? On Tire Rack Ecopia has really mixed reviews, Weatherpeak are better rated. In Virginia so don't really need to worry about much snow and these will be year round tires. Thanks for any help you can provide!
Bridgestone Ecopia H/L 422 Plus, 50K, $674 set Bridgestone Weatherpeak, 70K, $686 set Michelin Defender LTX M/S, 70K, $850 set
BF Goodrich Advantage T/A Sport LT, 65K warranty, Out of Stock BF Goodrich Advantage Control, 75K, Out of Stock
submitted by Got_ist_tots to tires [link] [comments]
Bridgestone has $150 off a set of 4 (prices below are AFTER discount). Would those be the best bang for the buck? On Tire Rack Ecopia has really mixed reviews, Weatherpeak are better rated. In Virginia so don't really need to worry about much snow and these will be year round tires. Thanks for any help you can provide!
Bridgestone Ecopia H/L 422 Plus, 50K, $674 set Bridgestone Weatherpeak, 70K, $686 set Michelin Defender LTX M/S, 70K, $850 set
BF Goodrich Advantage T/A Sport LT, 65K warranty, Out of Stock BF Goodrich Advantage Control, 75K, Out of Stock
2023.03.20 17:10 tonnie_taller 2023 Lexus UX250h review
The angular Lexus UX compact crossover has received a mid-life update – not that you could really tell. For 2023 there’s been a range of enhancements to the spec sheet and under the skin, though only the F Sport versions receive any distinguishable exterior features in the form of body-coloured bumpers. Highlights include a new, … Continue reading 2023 Lexus UX250h review
submitted by tonnie_taller to Tonnie_Taller [link] [comments]
2023.03.20 17:03 lucader881 Earth's Chosen [LitRPG] - Chapter 41
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Cover
They had opted to move together for the most part, resorting to splitting up only when strictly necessary. It didn’t matter if they needed to break their covers this time around either, because they were going to redo the whole thing another time anyway after Albert rewound time with the Hazegem. This was a trial run, to figure out the extent of the measures set in place by the rogue operatives and the response of whatever form of hierarchy was still functioning as it was before most of the command structure got compromised.
The trip by car took a couple of hours. It could not be skipped, however, since the teleportation device Albert got from the System was still in the process of being studied, and also because he had never been to the Quadrangle himself. He sat in the rear seat of grandpa’s yellow sports car, feeling like he was on one of those family trips he remembered from his childhood but never managed to recall quite well enough. The ‘adults’, if one wants to define them that way even though Albert was an adult himself, were discussing ways to access the security measures of the Quadrangle without triggering the alarms, and making a list that would be then sent to him via text message. This way it could be preserved through time travel.
As they did so, he fiddled with the piece of junk that once was the PTD, or the teleportation device. He had no dreams of repairing it in the two hours he had, but any headway he made here was less work he would have to do later, and one never knows when yet another piece of magic could come in handy. Eventually though the Quadrangle was finally visible at the horizon, and Albert lost all interest in fixing the small circular device.
“That’s the Quadrangle?” He asked, excited. “Holy shit.”
“Oh yeah, kid.” His grandpa replied from the driver seat. “Pretty cool, eh?”
Indeed, it was like he was seeing something straight out of a science fiction movie. The Quadrangle had tall, black walls that sported a multitude of tiny windows, probes and antennae, balconies and small structures that seemed to grow out of the concrete without rhyme or reason. As they got closer, Albert realized that the structure itself was not made of concrete, but of a strange composite material that was sleek and shiny under the rays of the morning sun. Then, the structure faded from view as the family ditched the road and ventured towards a deep gorge in the desertic landscape.
Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a desert. The rains of the last few days had meant that all the greenery – plants and flowers whose seeds had been dormant in the ground for years – had bloomed and the later frost had sealed the verdant carpets of plants into a tomb of ice. The road was not well maintained at all, but Lloyd’s skilled driving meant that they reached their destination without much delay.
There were two guards standing before a steel door built in the side of the rock at the bottom of the gorge. They wore standard military uniform, their mimetic patterns adapted to the desertic landscape painting big targets of the men standing amidst the greenery and the ice. Before the car was even close, in fact, and before they could even take out their weapons, they were shot with deadly precision by Samantha poking out of the passenger window, and dropped to the ground.
“Huh,” Albert’s mother hummed, examining the weapon in her hands with interest. “Your enhancing magic really did a number on this thing. I’m impressed.”
Albert smiled, proud of his work. He had turned a simple tranq gun into a veritable assault weapon-slash-sniper capable of putting down targets from impressive distances. It cost him a lot of mana, but his regeneration was high enough that he could refill his pool in less than an hour.
“Okay. Onto the door. Usually there would be a passcode, but if we use it, they will know we are here. I’ll take care of disabling the security, Lloyd you stand watch. Albert, you do… stretching or whatever, but be ready.”
As soon as Mother gave the signal, Albert approached the door with heavy steps. His feet sunk into the ground slightly, and his body struggled to carry the heavy steel bar he took from the trunk of the car even with [Strengthening] at full power. Once he was close enough, he inhaled and charged. The thick metal bar was like a sieging ram, hitting the door with incredible force. It only took a handful of hits, and a lot of sweat on Albert’s part even in the arctic temperatures for the hinges to finally give way, and another good hit sent the door sprawling open.
Albert rushed in, right as a smoke grenade exploded at his feet, hiding him from sight. He barreled through in the accelerated speed of [Bullet Time], the shield granted to him by his ring shimmering around him to keep the smoke out, until he felt that he had seen enough and disappeared. When he reappeared from teleporting out of the tunnel, all the targets he had painted for his mother and grandfather to shoot were already down.
“Good work.” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
***
“Don’t kill them!” The man shouted, looking at the screen. It was surrounded by other screens, all black from when the video feed was cut. “Wound them. Tire them out. But don’t kill them. I want her for myself.”
“But sir, your orders—”
“Ha! You obey me, not them.” The man said. “Your orders are the orders I give you. Nothing else. You understand?”
Beside the man, another man covered from head to toe in small trinkets made of brass and glass stood a full head shorter than him.
“Let’s go,” PsyOps said. “We have stuff to do before she arrives at the CARF.”
***
Getting to the Quadrangle was the easy part, really. It was once they got there that things became suddenly a lot more difficult. The improvised team had to traverse at least two full sides of the structure undetected, reach the secret access point to the CARF, and then hack it as to make it work without a code. Fortunately, a strange event happened as soon as they emerged from the service tunnel they used to reach the structure.
“A notification. From… the Quadrangle itself?” Samantha said, a bit shaken.
She pulled out her phone and looked at the live video feed of the room they were. There were squares painted around their heads, displaying their name and designation, all marked as friendlies. There was a square for Albert too, but instead of being green it was black with white borders, and there was no designation at all. It was disconcerting, considering that they were sure they had cut the feeds when they hacked the cameras, but even more unsettling was the message that came with the video.
>I can help you reach ACCESS:CARF#03
“Is that the Quadrangle itself speaking to you?” Lloyd asked, peeking at the footage on the phone. “Never happened to me. Lucky you.”
Samantha frowned. “Never happened to me neither, before now. I was the one talking to it, not the other way around.”
“Should we trust it?” Albert said.
Lloyd shrugged. “I say yes. We get a redo in case it was a trap.”
Thus, the hard leg of the journey became unexpectedly easy. They navigated through the complicated and dizzying maze of corridors following the instructions of the all-knowing sovereign of the place, who instructed them on which routes to take, when to stop and hide, and when to shoot their way through. No alarms were triggered during the whole journey, and although Samantha never felt quite at ease at the thought of the unexpected helper, nothing happened to make her think that she was being played.
However, things were looking a bit too easy for her tastes. And she knew full well that there was no such mission as a perfect mission. PsyOps and SpaceOps were completely missing from the picture too, which was very suspicious. Something was bound to go incredibly wrong.
***
“Albert, if you ever need to rewind, rewind back to this moment. If you do that we’ll see you disappear before our eyes and then teleport in, right?”
“Yes, that’s how it looks from the—”
Silence.
“Shit.”
One full minute passed. Then two. Then three. Neither Samantha nor Lloyd dared move a muscle.
“He rewound.”
“Yes.”
“Why is he not reappearing?”
“He’s not supposed to reappear here. It’s not how rewinds work.”
“But he should have teleported here as soon as he finished rewinding.”
“Yes.”
“But he hasn’t.”
“He hasn’t.”
“Which means…”
“Something’s wrong.”
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Cover
41 – Too Easy
There were many ways to access the CARF. Some of them were proper, controlled and regulated, while others were less conventional and reserved only for situations that needed them. Others still were totally secret, known only to a handful of people. The one that the Cromwell-Grassman family decided to use, which was deemed the safest, required them to go through the Quadrangle. Which, considering that the Quadrangle was entirely under PsyOps control, went a long way towards explaining just how unsafe and risky the other methods were.They had opted to move together for the most part, resorting to splitting up only when strictly necessary. It didn’t matter if they needed to break their covers this time around either, because they were going to redo the whole thing another time anyway after Albert rewound time with the Hazegem. This was a trial run, to figure out the extent of the measures set in place by the rogue operatives and the response of whatever form of hierarchy was still functioning as it was before most of the command structure got compromised.
The trip by car took a couple of hours. It could not be skipped, however, since the teleportation device Albert got from the System was still in the process of being studied, and also because he had never been to the Quadrangle himself. He sat in the rear seat of grandpa’s yellow sports car, feeling like he was on one of those family trips he remembered from his childhood but never managed to recall quite well enough. The ‘adults’, if one wants to define them that way even though Albert was an adult himself, were discussing ways to access the security measures of the Quadrangle without triggering the alarms, and making a list that would be then sent to him via text message. This way it could be preserved through time travel.
As they did so, he fiddled with the piece of junk that once was the PTD, or the teleportation device. He had no dreams of repairing it in the two hours he had, but any headway he made here was less work he would have to do later, and one never knows when yet another piece of magic could come in handy. Eventually though the Quadrangle was finally visible at the horizon, and Albert lost all interest in fixing the small circular device.
“That’s the Quadrangle?” He asked, excited. “Holy shit.”
“Oh yeah, kid.” His grandpa replied from the driver seat. “Pretty cool, eh?”
Indeed, it was like he was seeing something straight out of a science fiction movie. The Quadrangle had tall, black walls that sported a multitude of tiny windows, probes and antennae, balconies and small structures that seemed to grow out of the concrete without rhyme or reason. As they got closer, Albert realized that the structure itself was not made of concrete, but of a strange composite material that was sleek and shiny under the rays of the morning sun. Then, the structure faded from view as the family ditched the road and ventured towards a deep gorge in the desertic landscape.
Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a desert. The rains of the last few days had meant that all the greenery – plants and flowers whose seeds had been dormant in the ground for years – had bloomed and the later frost had sealed the verdant carpets of plants into a tomb of ice. The road was not well maintained at all, but Lloyd’s skilled driving meant that they reached their destination without much delay.
There were two guards standing before a steel door built in the side of the rock at the bottom of the gorge. They wore standard military uniform, their mimetic patterns adapted to the desertic landscape painting big targets of the men standing amidst the greenery and the ice. Before the car was even close, in fact, and before they could even take out their weapons, they were shot with deadly precision by Samantha poking out of the passenger window, and dropped to the ground.
“Huh,” Albert’s mother hummed, examining the weapon in her hands with interest. “Your enhancing magic really did a number on this thing. I’m impressed.”
Albert smiled, proud of his work. He had turned a simple tranq gun into a veritable assault weapon-slash-sniper capable of putting down targets from impressive distances. It cost him a lot of mana, but his regeneration was high enough that he could refill his pool in less than an hour.
“Okay. Onto the door. Usually there would be a passcode, but if we use it, they will know we are here. I’ll take care of disabling the security, Lloyd you stand watch. Albert, you do… stretching or whatever, but be ready.”
As soon as Mother gave the signal, Albert approached the door with heavy steps. His feet sunk into the ground slightly, and his body struggled to carry the heavy steel bar he took from the trunk of the car even with [Strengthening] at full power. Once he was close enough, he inhaled and charged. The thick metal bar was like a sieging ram, hitting the door with incredible force. It only took a handful of hits, and a lot of sweat on Albert’s part even in the arctic temperatures for the hinges to finally give way, and another good hit sent the door sprawling open.
Albert rushed in, right as a smoke grenade exploded at his feet, hiding him from sight. He barreled through in the accelerated speed of [Bullet Time], the shield granted to him by his ring shimmering around him to keep the smoke out, until he felt that he had seen enough and disappeared. When he reappeared from teleporting out of the tunnel, all the targets he had painted for his mother and grandfather to shoot were already down.
“Good work.” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
***
“Don’t kill them!” The man shouted, looking at the screen. It was surrounded by other screens, all black from when the video feed was cut. “Wound them. Tire them out. But don’t kill them. I want her for myself.”
“But sir, your orders—”
“Ha! You obey me, not them.” The man said. “Your orders are the orders I give you. Nothing else. You understand?”
Beside the man, another man covered from head to toe in small trinkets made of brass and glass stood a full head shorter than him.
“Let’s go,” PsyOps said. “We have stuff to do before she arrives at the CARF.”
***
Getting to the Quadrangle was the easy part, really. It was once they got there that things became suddenly a lot more difficult. The improvised team had to traverse at least two full sides of the structure undetected, reach the secret access point to the CARF, and then hack it as to make it work without a code. Fortunately, a strange event happened as soon as they emerged from the service tunnel they used to reach the structure.
“A notification. From… the Quadrangle itself?” Samantha said, a bit shaken.
She pulled out her phone and looked at the live video feed of the room they were. There were squares painted around their heads, displaying their name and designation, all marked as friendlies. There was a square for Albert too, but instead of being green it was black with white borders, and there was no designation at all. It was disconcerting, considering that they were sure they had cut the feeds when they hacked the cameras, but even more unsettling was the message that came with the video.
>I can help you reach ACCESS:CARF#03
“Is that the Quadrangle itself speaking to you?” Lloyd asked, peeking at the footage on the phone. “Never happened to me. Lucky you.”
Samantha frowned. “Never happened to me neither, before now. I was the one talking to it, not the other way around.”
“Should we trust it?” Albert said.
Lloyd shrugged. “I say yes. We get a redo in case it was a trap.”
Thus, the hard leg of the journey became unexpectedly easy. They navigated through the complicated and dizzying maze of corridors following the instructions of the all-knowing sovereign of the place, who instructed them on which routes to take, when to stop and hide, and when to shoot their way through. No alarms were triggered during the whole journey, and although Samantha never felt quite at ease at the thought of the unexpected helper, nothing happened to make her think that she was being played.
However, things were looking a bit too easy for her tastes. And she knew full well that there was no such mission as a perfect mission. PsyOps and SpaceOps were completely missing from the picture too, which was very suspicious. Something was bound to go incredibly wrong.
***
“Albert, if you ever need to rewind, rewind back to this moment. If you do that we’ll see you disappear before our eyes and then teleport in, right?”
“Yes, that’s how it looks from the—”
Silence.
“Shit.”
One full minute passed. Then two. Then three. Neither Samantha nor Lloyd dared move a muscle.
“He rewound.”
“Yes.”
“Why is he not reappearing?”
“He’s not supposed to reappear here. It’s not how rewinds work.”
“But he should have teleported here as soon as he finished rewinding.”
“Yes.”
“But he hasn’t.”
“He hasn’t.”
“Which means…”
“Something’s wrong.”
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Rate this story on Royal Road! Earth's Chosen Royal Road
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2023.03.20 16:46 DarkAdalia The Lockwood House
I'm not particularly a religious person. I never really connected with the idea of believing in a God or a Devil; something like religion never really resonated with me until the night a few of my friends and I explored the Lockwood house.
My mother gave me a laptop this morning; she thought that it might help me cope or whatever so here I am, typing what I remember. I haven't been able to sleep; there's a shadow that stands in the corner of my hospital room at night, and sometimes I hear voices inside my head telling me to do things, and I'm terrified.
No one believes me. They keep stating that my traumatizing experience must have triggered my anxiety. They called it a dissociation or detachment from reality, I think. Whatever. I know that what I saw in that house was real, and what had happened to my friends actually did happen. We just wanted an experience. We never really stopped to evaluate the risks that might come with it.
I guess I'll start from the beginning.
It was Friday morning, and I decided to kill some time in the library across from my high school. The greatest thing about being in a library was the calming atmosphere. I leaned forward on the worn sofa and rolled my eyes as I turned the page.
What? I scoffed. Why is this even a thing someone would think is even remotely attractive?
[ I am a lot to handle, but I can assure you that you'll have fun handling me, love ]
Seriously? I've met drunk perverts hanging outside of bars with better pick up lines than that I thought to myself. I didn't think it could get any cringier until I read the next line.
[ My heart did an unexpected flip, startled by his bizarrely attractive smile ]
I frowned inwardly. You know what you really need instead of a creepy-ass stalker boyfriend? A cardiology consult
"So annoying," I sighed. How is this tripe a best seller?
"What's annoying?"
"Oh, shit." I squeaked. I sat upright and turned around, instinctively about to clog the person when I realized who it was. Harlen leaned up against the wall with a tilted smirk on his face. He stood between me and the fluorescents.
Harlen was a fellow classmate and a friend of Mark's, who was an older guy Albie, and I guess Harlen hung out with. Harlen was a tall, attractive guy with an athletic build, short obsidian hair, and grey eyes. To quote the main character in the novel, Harlen was the kind of trouble smarter girls than I had fallen into with disastrous results and a few regrets.
My cheeks flushed and I closed the book as he cocked his head at me. "Did I seriously scare you?" He joked, but his smile faltered slightly as I glared up at him.
"Dude," I groaned. "Don't sneak up on me like that,"
"What? I didn't sneak," He crossed his arms over his chest in protest. "No sneaking was involved. I just walked over here. And to be fair, this is a library-silence is sacred in a library so technically we're supposed to sneak. We're also the only ones in here right now anyway, so who cares."
My eyes did a pointed sweep of the decidedly empty area before settling back on Harlen's with an unamused glower. "Yeah," I said. "I'm pretty sure the zero other people in here appreciate the deceptive aura of calm. What are you doing here?"
"Well, actually I was doing some research for a paper I'm writing for English." He tightened his grip on his bookbag. "I was told I'd find you here," He explained.
"Why?" I asked. "I didn't tell anyone that I was here."
"I've got my ways of tracking people down."
When he saw my expression, Harlen rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Kaya. I'm just kidding! Is it really that weird that I happen to be in here the same time as you?"
"I guess not."
"I'll let you get back to reading, then. Oh," He started. "I almost forgot. Meet us down at the Love Triangle for lunch. I found a cool place for us to urbex."
My friends and I loved urban exploring. Most of the time it was exciting and exhilarating. Sometimes it was a challenge; some places were remote enough that you could simply walk in through the front door like a welcomed visitor. Other times we would be forced to climb up over fences or crawl through windows.
There was this one time we decided to check out a drainage tunnel because a few people have sworn they heard ominous laughter coming from it. Water seeped into our clothes and we shivered at the coldness. I remember that I cracked a joke about the movie "IT" when we suddenly heard a loud BOOM right next to our heads. I have no idea what caused the sound, but I doubt that it was anything paranormal.
I was in the middle of stabbing at a large crouton with my fork when Harlen, Albie, and Jessica took their seats at the table.
"Hey, Kaya," Albie said as he sat down beside me. Albie and I have been friends since we were little. He was a skinny black guy with a box fade haircut and light brown eyes. We were neither popular nor unpopular. We were what some people called, "drifters" and, according to Albie, those whose social standings meant that if he made random eye contact with someone in the halls he would probably get a nod back, and maybe even a quick "Hey" or "What's up" If you didn't know us personally you'd likely assume that we were siblings, especially with the way we acted around each other most of the time.
"What took you guys so long?" I asked, pointing my fork in his direction.
"It was my fault. I'm sorry." He grumbled, as he unzipped his lunch bag. "Mr. Wizzner chastised me for like, ten minutes."
"To be fair, You were looking at your phone in class." Jessica said. Jessica was Albie's girlfriend, a petite girl with long blond hair, and hazel eyes. "And that wasn't the only thing,"
Albie sighed. "You're not wrong, but he's kind of an asshat."
"You should use that filter once in a while," Jessica said.
"Oh baby, since when have you known me to have such a filter?"
"Oh please," I scoffed. "You just choose not to use it."
Albie gave me a frown and tossed a baby carrot my way, which I was able to dodge easily.
Harlen cleared his throat as he pulled out his phone. "So, shall we get to it, then?"
The Lockwood house had been abandoned for years now, but a few people who have walked the trail close to the place have claimed they could see the spirits of the family walking around inside, and others had even heard music coming from the house. When they went to investigate, there was no one inside.
In 2010 Ethan Lockwood brutally murdered his wife, Anna Lockwood, and her parents Steven and Isabelle Thompson in the middle of the night. Authorities found Anna's parents dead in their bedroom; both of their bodies were in pieces, and their daughter's body was found in the basement. Anna had multiple blunt force head injuries and what's worse, her eyes and tongue were missing. Ethan's body was found in the living room with a shotgun beside him, and a deep laceration on his neck. People have compared this to the Amityville horror - which was a huge reason we were doing this.
"Get this," Harlen said, as he scrolled down. "There was a survivor - a ten year old boy. He also had a twin brother, but he was never found."
Some have assumed the father killed him and buried his body somewhere on the property, and others have assumed the boy escaped and is probably alive under a new identity. I guess we'll never know.
"Holy crap. What happened to the boy who survived?" I asked.
"I don't know. I guess that part was kept confidential," Albie said. "For the boy's protection I guess."
"Poor baby," Jessica frowned.
"So," Harlen said. "Are you guys up for it?"
◇
We all crawled into Harlen's truck around 6pm and headed to the Lockwood house. Albie took his video recorder and held it in front of his face. "Hey, what's up guys, gals, and nonbinary folks!" Albie spoke with conviction as he stared wide-eyed in the video recorder. "We're going to prove that ghosts are real!"
I rolled down the window and glanced out at the scenery. I laughed to myself when we passed a large cornfield. "Guys, this seriously looks like we're going straight into a modern day horror film."
"It really does," Jessica agreed.
"I can already feel this place, I'm beginning to sweat all over." Albie exclaimed as he turned his camera to the window then back on himself.
"Like something about this place isn't right at all? That's pretty understandable, considering." Harlen said, turning down a gravel road.
"We're gonna recieve a ton of views for this!" Albie smiled. He turned the camera toward Harlen who waved back from the review mirror.
"Dude," Harlen chuckled. "I bet some of these viewers are going to think you're crazy because you're willing to allow something to throw you across the room and-possibly-murder you for content."
We pulled up to the gate in front of the two - story colonial home. There was already a green van parked outside the gate to the property. Mark greeted us at the gate with a colorful bottle of vodka. Mark was an average looking guy in his early 20s with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He raised the bottle in his right hand with shot glasses in the other.
"Hey, guys," Mark handed each of us a shot glass. "Did you get here alright?"
"Oh yeah. I've driven passed this place a couple of times, I didn't even need the GPS" Harlen said.
"This definitely screams illegal." I commented, pointedly toward the large house.
"Only if we get caught, but this place is abandoned so I doubt we'll get into any trouble with the law." Harlen said.
"I'm giving you alcohol, and you're more worried about "breaking and entering"? Mark laughed.
Albie took his shot of the Three Olives Loopy vodka and made a face. "This tastes like Tucan Sam fucked me."
"Ew," Jessica grimaced.
Harlen and I laughed. Mark only snorted.
After we each had several shots of vodka, we got ready. We each grabbed a headlight in order to keep our hands free, gloves, and disposable face masks and placed them into our backpacks, along with first aid (just in case). Mark had been urbexing for a while, and he was always prepared with supplies just in case anyone forgot to bring something.
"So, what happens if we're not alone in the house?" Jessica asked.
Even though urbex sites are technically "abandoned" that didn't mean you wouldn't run into other people inside like squatters or addicts, and they may not react well to seeing a stranger in their space.
"It's a good thing I brought this along," Mark said. He pushed his jacket aside and revealed a hand gun tucked inside its holster.
"Holy crap, man." Harlen said.
"I can't believe you brought a gun." Albie said.
Jessica and I were speechless. It's a good idea to bring some sort of self defense tool just in case your physical safety is threatened, but bringing something like a gun raises the risk of you accidentally injuring yourself.
"Of course I did. It's always good to carry protection." Mark explained.
A few minutes after, the five of us walked up to the large rusted gate. With a little bit of work, we each slipped through the bars and headed up to the house.
"You know those haunted attractions where people dress up in order to scare the shit out of you, except it's actual demons and they're going to steal your soul!" Jessica smiled beside Albie who threaded his fingers through hers. "It's actually kinda thrilling."
"Awesome," Harlen smirked. "I'm glad you sound so optimistic about it."
"I try to be!"
We stepped up onto the porch, which wrapped around the front of the house. The paint on the door was chipped with age in places. "Are you guys ready?" Harlen asked. "Once we enter this house, we will possibly become vulnerable to any demonic presence that might reside here."
I rolled my eyes. "If I'm in serious danger, I'm getting out. I'll throw myself out the window if I have to."
"I'm on Kaya's team," Jessica agreed. "Team rational."
"What, and risk getting a broken leg?" Albie asked.
"Better a broken leg than having your soul taken by some kind of entity." I replied.
"Alright, guys let's do this." Harlen said. He opened the door and the five of us headed inside.
The front door opened up into a foyer. Straight ahead of us was a staircase that led up to the second floor. There was a spacious living room to our right and a dining room to our left, and from there, an alcove enterance that led into the kitchen. I could tell that this place had been abandoned for years; there was cobwebs and peeled paint on the walls. There were remnants of furniture left ripped, dismantled, and stained which laid disorderly on the floor of the living room, reminding me of death.
This had once been the home of a happy upper-class family, full of life. Now it was replaced by ghosts of the past, vermin, spiders, dirt, and trash. The smell of rot and the taste of regurgitated food made me grimace in disgust.
"Why hasn't anyone fix this place up and put it back on the market?" Jessica asked.
"Who really knows," Albie replied.
"Hello!" Harlen announced as he twirled on his heels. "Are there any spirits here?" I glanced over at Harlen with a look and he shrugged.
"Is this what you guys imagined?" Mark queried.
"Sure, minus the dead bodies," I walked into the living room and spotted a mid century record player console propped up against the wall next to a grand piano. There was a record still on the turntable, "Tonight You Belong To Me" by "Patience and Prudence"
"Hey, come check this out." Out of curiosity I placed the stylus and tried turning it on, not really expecting anything to happen. I jerked my hand away when it began to play.
I quickly took the needle off, a little creeped out. "Holy crap, that scared me."
"That thing still works?" Albie asked, as he inspected the record player. "That song is kinda sweet,"
"No it isn't," Jessica frowned. "It's the kind of song you would hear while being tortured to death."
After we goofed around a little bit, we all decided to begin exploring around the house. Mark started up the stairs and asked if anyone would like to join him.
"I'll join you, man." Harlen said. He gave me a wink before heading towards the stairs with Mark, and I glanced over at Albie and Jessica as they disappeared down the hall.
I was alone.
I walked over to the piano, and carefully lifted the lid up and over to reveal its keys. My fingers traced the lines in between them and pushed down lightly on a few. The deep sounds reverberated around the room.
My eyes drifted up to the small picture frame sitting on top of the piano. I absent-mindedly bit my bottom lip and reached up to grab the frame. My fingers trailed across the picture, leaving an oily impression against the glass that held the picture in place. A family of four stared back at me and I realized that it was Ethan, Anna, and their twin boys. I was so focused on the twins that I almost didn't hear my phone alerting me that I had a new text message.
It was a text from Albie.
From "Albie" at 6:45pm: Meet us down in the basement. I want to show u something.
To "Albie" at 6:46pm: What is it?
From "Albie" at 6:46pm: There's some cool shit down here. Hurry up.
I rolled my eyes and placed my phone in my pocket as I made my way down the hall. I paused at the top of the basement stairs. I could hear Jessica and Albie, the beems from their headlights bouncing around.
"Albie?" I called out.
"Yeah, Kaya, we're down here." He replied. "Come on down. We have something to show you."
"Alright, I'm coming down hold on." I carefully descended the stairs and turned the corner. "So, what did you want to show me-"
My voice died in my throat. It was dark down here, and my friends were nowhere to be seen. I was gripped by a sudden sense of unnease. I stood near the stairs and turned on my headlamp. "Hello? Albie, this isn't funny, dude."
What answered me was silence. Absolute silence. I was alone, or I thought I was until my light fell onto something moving a few feet in front of me. It was an androgynous looking kid around my age with pale skin, shoulder-length black hair, and violet eyes. They wore a long sleeve gothic cloak poncho, over thin black leggings. Their lips pulled back into a malicious grin as they came closer to me. I watched in horror as their eyes rolled to the back of their head and their mouth split open wide, revealing sharp teeth.
They reached out for me and I screamed in terror, my instincs finally kicked in. I bolted up the steps, and stumbled into the hallway. I ran for the front door and tried to leave, but it wouldn't open. What the hell?! that made no damn sense! My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I felt something touch my shoulder. I screamed, ready to defend myself.
"Hey. Hey! Kaya, stop it's me, Albie."
I stopped struggling as my eyes refocused on the familiar faces in front of me. Albie, Jessica, and Harlen stared back at me with confused alarm.
"Are you alright?" Harlen asked. "What happened?"
I shook my head and quickly glanced behind them at the basement door, but there was nothing there. I know I hadn't imagined it! I turned my attention back to my friends. "I saw something down in the basement! I want to leave. Now."
"What are you talking about, Kaya? Hold up, did you see something down there? Holy shit. The ghosts didn't think one of us would see them, but we did. Can you-"
Before Albie can finish his sentence, I roughly pushed him away from me and turned back to the door. "Damnit, Albie! I don't want to be in this fucking house anymore! It won't open! Why won't it open!"
"Seriously, Kaya what the hell?" Albie asked, almost annoyed.
"Just relax, Kaya. Let me give it a try, alright?" Harlen offered, calmly. He grabbed the knob, but it stayed shut. "What the hell?"
"See? I told you it won't open!" I hissed.
"What do you mean, "it won't open" let me give it a try." Albie shoved his way passed us. He motioned for all of us to stand back and we watched as he tried to use his whole body against it.
"M-maybe the door's jammed." Jessica exclaimed. "Let's chill out. The front door isn't the only exit out of this place."
"Jessica's right. Let's try the door in the kitchen." Harlen said. We entered the kitchen and Harlen quickly made his way over to the screen door that faced the forest. He cursed under his breath. "Damnit. Nothing."
"Hold up, guys. Where's Mark?" Albie asked.
Harlen quickly pulled his phone out to call Mark when we all collectively got a text from him. Reminding us that we had set up a group chat for easy contact. Harlen glanced back at me with an odd expression I couldn't name. I opened my texts and a sharp stab of dread settled in my stomach.
From "Mark" at 7:05pm: I'm down in the basement, Harlen. Where r u?
From "Mark" at 7:06pm: Harlen is that u? It's not funny, man.
Harlen texted Mark that we were all in the kitchen. I watched as the three small dots in a text bubble pending before it disappeared and Harlen's cell phone rang. He answered and placed Mark on speaker phone.
"What the hell do you mean you're in the kitchen? I definitely heard your voice down here."
Harlen cursed, and told Mark to make his way to the kitchen. Harlen started toward the basement and we all followed right behind him. Before we could reach the stairs to the basement, however, the door swung shut, the force of it knocked us backwards. We heard Mark's gun go off several times followed by his peircing screams of terror before they were abruptly cut short. In our inebriated panic, I failed at the last second to realize we were all running in different directions.
I remember running up the stairs and locking the bathroom door behind me. My heart pounded painfully against my ribcage as I fumbled for my phone, thankful that it hadn't fallen out of my pocket. I willed myself to control my sobs and called 911, but for some reason my call wouldn't go through.
"Nononono! Fuck, please no." I collapsed against the bathtub and cried into my sleeves. Paranoia nearly consumed me once I thought of my friends and every horrible scenario when I received a text from Albie. I looked at it confused.
I wiped the snot from my face and quickly texted him back. How in the hell was I able to receive his texts when I couldn't get ahold of the cops?
From "Albie" at 7:20pm: Apparently we can contact each other in this house, but our phone's service seems to be cut off from the outside world. Where r u?
What the hell is going on in this place??
To "Albie" at 7:21pm: I'm in the upstairs bathroom. Do u know where Harlen and Jess are?
From "Albie" at 7:25pm: Jess is with me. I don't know where Harlen is.
My stomach dropped, but before I could reply Albie sent another text, and what I read made my blood run cold.
From "Albie" at 7:25pm: There is smthing moving in the hallway outside the room we r in. Stay quiet and keep ur phone on silent. If we need to contact each other use text.
It was around thirty minutes after when Albie replied with another text updating me with their situation. The thing stalking outside their room a while ago was gone now, and it hadn't come back.
From "Albie" at 8:00pm: We're going to make our way to you. Stay where u r
To "Albie" at 8:02pm: Ok. Be careful.
I slowly got to my feet and set my phone down beside the sink and took a deep breath to level my breathing. Suddenly, I heard something pound against the door. I screamed and stumbled backward. "Holy shit!"
"Kaya?" It was Harlen. "Kaya, is that you?"
"H-Harlen?" I collected myself and made my way over to the bathroom door. I walked into the hallway, relieved that I wasn't alone anymore. Harlen was safe, thank God. "Oh my god, Harlen I'm so glad you're-"
I gasped, and I stumbled forward as the door behind me slammed shut. I felt a sudden wave of dread wash over me as my eyes swept up and down the vacant hallway. Whatever was keeping us here tricked me. I quickly tried going back into the bathroom, but it wouldn't open, not only that but I left my phone by the sink. "No! Damnit!" I needed my phone, it was my only way to stay in contact with my friends, and how was Albie going to know where I was? I had two options, I could try and make my way to Albie or find another place to hide.
My heart thudded loudly in my ears as my headlamp bounced off the walls, chasing nothing more than shadows. I stuck close to the wall as I made my way down the hall. From somewhere down the hall, I heard a voice call out. It was Albie's voice telling me to come over to him. I hesitated for a moment. What if it was another trick? It definitely could be since whatever is toying with us was capable of mimicking voices. What if it really was Albie? Regardless, I had to go passed the room if I wanted to find Albie or another place to hide.
"Kaya, we're in here," Albie whispered to me as I got closer to one of the bedrooms. I hesitated before I stepped inside. The bedroom smelled awful, like rotten meat hung out in the sun for too long. My headlamp's light swept the room until it landed on a lone figure lying face-up on the bed.
"...Albie?" I whispered, tentatively. My voice sounded thin, like old paper. The figure on the bed didn't answer, but when I crept closer, I slipped on something wet. I glanced down at the floor. It was blood; a trail of blood led in from the doorway all the way to the bed. "Oh my god!" I screamed. My stomach rebelled and I heaved out my lunch until I couldn't expel anything else.
My throat burned as I wiped my mouth, and my chest hurt from sobbing out his name. Mark laid sprawled on the bed, his abdomen was ripped open and what remained of his entrails spilled over his body like a gory blanket. I stumbled backward, I fell against the door closing it shut. I was about to leave when I spotted the gun tucked under Mark's jacket.
Oh god, this was probably the worst decision ever and the likelihood that this was yet another trick was high, but I needed something to protect myself with. I've watched Mark use it before when we all went camping a year ago, so I kind of knew how to use it. I steeled myself and started toward the bed.
The closer I got the more I can see the damage done to his body; his abdomen and chest cavity were open and hollowed out. The skin looked like it was rolled back, torn and ragged. His sternum was completely gone, a few of his ribs were cracked so they protruded from either side of his body like fangs. Half of his bottom lip looked like it was chewed off and his left ear was missing. I shook my head and tentatively reached out for the gun. Just as I grabbed it, I felt something gooey covered on the grip of the gun.
I yelped and dropped it on the floor. I cursed and bent down to pick it up. Once I did I wiped the substance off with my sleeve with a grimace and made sure the safety was on. I was tucking it into my jacket pocket when something dripped onto my hand. I looked up and saw Mark or what used to be Mark looming over me from the ceiling like Spiderman. His eyes were oily black, his face twisted in an agonized and vengeful expression. Before I could move, he threw himself at me.
Somehow, I managed to dodge him and wrench the door open, hitting Mark as he lunged at me. The blow was hard enough that it sent Mark sprawling across the floor. I rushed out of the room and back into the empty hallway. I took a chance and looked back, but Mark wasn't there.
When I reached the end of the hallway, I felt hands grab me and pull me around the corner. I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. Panic cut through my body like a hot blade, and new found adrenaline flooded my system as I twisted and shoved at the person holding me immobile.
"Kaya, stop," Albie hissed. "It's me."
I turned around and my eyes widened with tears as Albie released his hand from my mouth, and Jessica pulled me into a hug as I told them what happened. Albie pointed towards the stairs and motioned for us to follow. Albie led us into the foyer. We heard movement in the basement so as quickly and quietly as we could, we crawled inside a closet across from the living room.
"What are we going to do?" Jessica asked. "We have no weapons!"
"I found this on Mark's body." I exclaimed as I showed them the hand gun.
Albie got to his feet. "ah, crap...I'm going to be right back. I left my camera in the kitchen."
"What? Hell no." I hissed. Splitting up is a terrible Idea! Risking his life for that damn camera? Was he an idiot?
"Just stay here, alright? Kaya, keep that gun out." He said, with no room for an argument. "Whatever this thing is, it can mimic our voices so we'll need a password to distinguish them from us." He took out his phone and typed Last Alliance
After he left, I crawled over to the door and locked it. I sat down next to Jessica who was sobbing. I turned to her and placed my palms to her tear stained face. "Hey, Jess. We'll make it out of here alright? I promise-"
Jessica shook her head and pushed my hands away from her face. "Don't say that shit to me. We're going to die here, Kaya!" She hissed. "Why is this happening? I wanna go home!"
I sat back against the wall and sighed.
Ten minutes later I heard movement coming from outside the room. I quickly got to my feet and placed my hands on the door.
"Last Alliance," Albie whispered, rather quickly. "Hurry up and let me in."
I hadn't even released the door knob when Albie pushed passed me and helped Jessica to her feet without much protest on her end. "Shit, it was him all along."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"I caught it on camera!" He whispered frantically. "The reason he brought us out here wasn't to-shit-" he was breathing hard. He moved toward me and shoved the camera in my direction. "Here, hold onto it for-" His sentence was cut off abruptly as the thing that used to be Mark drilled his fist into Albie's chest from behind. Albie's eyes widened as his mind had come to the realization at what happened.
Mark dropped Albie's body on the ground and his lips twisted into a manic grin as he examined his blood-covered arm. "He was spying on us," Mark said, but it didn't sound like Mark anymore. His voice sounded like several voices overlapping, fighting for center stage. "He didn't think that we would notice, but we did."
We screamed, and holding onto the camera with one hand I pulled her toward me with the other, quickly. We couldn't save him, and I knew that if we didn't move now we would end up just like him.
Jessica and I bolted down the hallway and back up the stairs. We found an empty room that must have been a personal office at one point, and barricaded ourselves inside. I cursed when I noticed the room we were in didn't have a window wide enough for us to escape through. I sat against the wall beside Jessica who sobbed into her sleeves.
I glanced down at the camcorder which felt heavy in my hand. What did Albie capture on camera that had him so upset? I turned it on and what I saw on the screen made my blood run cold. It was Harlen, the kid from the basement who stood beside Harlen, and the thing that used to be Mark; Harlen was speaking to him, but it was in a strange language that I couldn't understand. After he was finished, the thing that used to be Mark knelt down as if Harlen was some kind of royalty, and that was where the video stopped.
I heard that thing right outside the room we were in. He was telling us that no matter what we did, we were not leaving this place. A few seconds later, he broke through the door, pushing the desk and chairs out of the way with ease. With the force, one of the chairs knocked me to the floor.
He released a sick and twisted laughter, and stalked toward me, eyes filled with malice. Jessica grabbed something heavy from the floor and chucked it at Mark. Mark was startled for a second, and then slowly turned his attention to her. She yelped and frantically swept her eyes around the room for anything she could use as a weapon. He lunged for her and they collided to the floor.
I fumbled for my jacket's zipper for the gun, but I was too late. I watched in utter horror as he ripped into my friend; her screams of terror and agony will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I pulled myself to my feet, my back bumped into something hard. A metal filing cabinet. Mark turned his attention back on me, but before he could reach me, he tripped over something and he fell to the floor. I shifted, and using my whole body weight, I managed to tip it over. It landed on top of Mark with a sickening crunch of bone and viscera.
I slowly made my way to Jessica's body and collapsed to my knees. I clutched at my own head and screamed until it hurt. At that moment, all I wanted to do was crumble in defeat. My voice had broken into heavy sobs so loud and ugly that I almost didn't hear Harlen's footsteps behind me.
"Kaya, is that you?" He called out to me, his voice full of worry. I was hardly listening to him. This was his fault! Rage spiked through me like a knife to my gut, it twisted and turned until I was all ground beef inside; I had the sudden urge to pull the gun from my jacket and-no, I had to calm down. Maybe if I feigned ignorance, I might still have a chance to escape, however slim that was. He bent down, and I let him pull me along with him without protest. With his eyes forward, I slowly put my hand on the gun.
We were almost to the kitchen when Harlen turned around, and leaned against the wall. "So, you know, don't you."
It wasn't a question. I slowly pulled out the gun, unlocked it, and trained it on him. He stared at me with an unsettling expression, and I could have sworn his eyes were black. I suddenly felt an intense pressure pour down on me. I could feel a miasma of something intense as his eyes bore into mine; my arms trembled with the effort of keeping them aloft. The gun clenched tightly in my hands like a life line. I couldn't faulter. I knew that if I did, even for an instant, Harlen would undoubtedly kill me.
"Oh, don't be like that, Kaya. You're not getting out of this house unless I say so, so let's just chat, hm?"
I shook my head and raised the gun to his chest, and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of a surprised expression on his face when I pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot reverberated around me. I pulled the trigger again and again, but the gun was empty. I dropped it to the floor, my hands shaking. He glanced down at himself. "Huh. Well, would ya look at that, you managed to get me through the ribs, good job."
I was running before Harlen finished his sentence. However, he wasn't coming after me-at least not yet. Figures. I couldn't leave this place so he had no reason to put much effort into the chase. I stumbled through the house, catching myself on overturned furniture in order to keep my balance as I made my way towards the stairs.
I tripped over something and I caught myself against the wall across from the stairs. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. The house seemed to resonate with his manic laughter. I glanced behind me, and I felt a wave of cold dread as he sauntered toward me down the hall. Hands in his pockets, with an almost amused expression.
"Where do you think you're going, Kaya?" He asked. "Didn't I tell you before?"
The words, "There is no escape" suddenly appeared all over the walls in blood. I cursed, and pushed myself off the wall and bolted up the steps, down the hall, and into one of the bedrooms and quickly closed the door. I looked around at what was once a child's room. There was a twin sized bed in the center of the room, a nightstand across from the closet, and a bathroom.
I spotted a decent sized window and I ran over to it, but it wouldn't open and I cursed when there was nothing around me to break it with. Without any time to come up with a plan, I quickly slid underneath the bed and turned off my headlamp. I immediately cursed at myself again, of all the places to hide I chose the first place any one would look!
I contemplated whether or not to find another hiding place, but before I could move I heard him make his way down the hall singing that creepy ass song. "My honey I know with the dawn that you will be gone, but tonight you belong to me, just little 'ol me~"
The bedroom door opened. I covered my mouth and tried to silence my breathing, hoping to God that he wouldn't find me under the bed. I watched in fear as he closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed. The bed dipped slightly as Harlen's weight sank onto it. He told me things I didn't want to hear and more. This monster-this demon-slithered into our lives just for all of this to happen.
My eyes widened and I tucked my arms to my sides, the wooden bed frame gave a protest above me as Harlen laid down on top of it. Then he sighed, almost forlorn. "This was my brother's room, you know. Coming back here brings back so many memories,"
Right after he said that I felt something prickle behind my eyelids. I shut my eyes tightly as gruesome scenes appeared inside my head. There was so much blood, and images shown of a young boy in pajamas stalking through the house with an ax in his hands picking off his family members one by one-doing things a normal child his size wouldn't be able to do, but Harlen was anything but normal. I felt bile rise in my throat but I managed to keep it down.
"The final stage of grief is acceptance, Kaya." He said. His cruel voice brought me back to the present. "You have a lot of spirit, I like that. I'm also in a good mood so I'll give you two options: you can either die here or you can come with me. You should be grateful that I'm even giving you an option. So, what's it going to be?"
I opened my mouth and closed it again; what was I supposed to say to something like that? What was going to happen to me if I said yes? If I said no...
A low growl -yes, a growl- rumbled above me and I felt something snag my ankle. I panicked, my fingers tore into the wooden floor as I was dragged out from underneath the bed. I was thrown across the room, pain shot up my back as something bit into my spine. Harlen straightened up and started toward me. I quickly averted my gaze, the panic swarmed all over me like a hive of angry bees.
"Wh-why are you d-doing this?" I asked, my breath hitched between sobs.
Harlen knelt down in front of me. "Hey...hey look at me, Kaya."
Absolute terror gripped me as he forced me to look at him. His features weren't human; the light of the moon highlighted the inhuman planes of his face. Black, spidery thread-like lines creeped around his forehead and right beneath his oily black eyes. His mouth had split open, wider than any human mouth was capable of.
His nails grew long and sharp against my chin. It was mesmerizing, fascinating almost, like watching a lion's face before it tears yours off. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe; my lungs felt swollen and inflamed, my hands came up to my throat as I coughed and wheezed. Was this an asthma attack? No, it was Harlen.
"When I ask you a question, do not answer it with another question do you understand?" He snarled. "You will understand why when you arrive. Now, will it be a yes or a no?"
His features calmed and he looked human again, and whatever power on me broke, it allowed me to inhale sharply. I gasped. I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to rage. Instead, I dropped my hands on my thighs. I wanted to live.
◇
"Kaya, honey" My mom said, as she came into my hospital room, "You've got someone to see you this morning! One of your friends from school, I think."
I placed my book down on the table beside me. She bent down and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "And he's very attractive," She whispered, "It's not every day a tall handsome boy comes to sit by your bedside."
I nodded and gave her a small smile as my chest filled with dread. The doctor informed my mom that I was found in the middle of the woods, unconcious by a young man. She had no idea what really happened to me or what happened to my friends'. Harlen told me that he had ways of covering his tracks so there was no use in telling anyone what really happened. It didn't matter if I did or not because no one would believe me anyway.
Harlen came around the corner with a bouquet of flowers. My mom smiled at him and walked toward the door, "I'll just leave you two alone. What did you say your name was again?"
"My name is Harlen," He said, as he stepped forward. "Harlen Lockwood."
"Nice to meet you, Harlen," She said, smiling back at him before exiting the room.
Harlen placed the flowers on the table and sat down next to the hospital bed, he placed a hand on my thigh. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, Kaya." He said. He gently pushed a loose strand of my hair out of my face and gently tucked it behind my ear. "Remember what we talked about. You will come to me after you are discharged from the hospital,"
I shivered at his touch, and out of curiosity I asked, "What happens if I don't?"
Harlen let loose a dark chuckle. His head dips until his lips skate by the curve of my ear. "Then I'll hunt you down." He whispered to me like it's obvious. "I'll kill you and everyone you care about. I'm capable of all sorts of horrors; things you can't even imagine." I watched as Harlen stood up from the seat.
"Now, I've got a few things to do before you arrive," Harlen said, smiling down at me. He paused by the room's door. "I'll see you soon."
His visit was a few days ago. I've made up my mind; all of those lives are dependent on me. Everything that happened that night was real. I know that most people won't believe me, but to be quite honest I don't care anymore.
[Update] I just got the news I'll be discharged tomorrow.
submitted by DarkAdalia to CreepyPastas [link] [comments]
My mother gave me a laptop this morning; she thought that it might help me cope or whatever so here I am, typing what I remember. I haven't been able to sleep; there's a shadow that stands in the corner of my hospital room at night, and sometimes I hear voices inside my head telling me to do things, and I'm terrified.
No one believes me. They keep stating that my traumatizing experience must have triggered my anxiety. They called it a dissociation or detachment from reality, I think. Whatever. I know that what I saw in that house was real, and what had happened to my friends actually did happen. We just wanted an experience. We never really stopped to evaluate the risks that might come with it.
I guess I'll start from the beginning.
It was Friday morning, and I decided to kill some time in the library across from my high school. The greatest thing about being in a library was the calming atmosphere. I leaned forward on the worn sofa and rolled my eyes as I turned the page.
What? I scoffed. Why is this even a thing someone would think is even remotely attractive?
[ I am a lot to handle, but I can assure you that you'll have fun handling me, love ]
Seriously? I've met drunk perverts hanging outside of bars with better pick up lines than that I thought to myself. I didn't think it could get any cringier until I read the next line.
[ My heart did an unexpected flip, startled by his bizarrely attractive smile ]
I frowned inwardly. You know what you really need instead of a creepy-ass stalker boyfriend? A cardiology consult
"So annoying," I sighed. How is this tripe a best seller?
"What's annoying?"
"Oh, shit." I squeaked. I sat upright and turned around, instinctively about to clog the person when I realized who it was. Harlen leaned up against the wall with a tilted smirk on his face. He stood between me and the fluorescents.
Harlen was a fellow classmate and a friend of Mark's, who was an older guy Albie, and I guess Harlen hung out with. Harlen was a tall, attractive guy with an athletic build, short obsidian hair, and grey eyes. To quote the main character in the novel, Harlen was the kind of trouble smarter girls than I had fallen into with disastrous results and a few regrets.
My cheeks flushed and I closed the book as he cocked his head at me. "Did I seriously scare you?" He joked, but his smile faltered slightly as I glared up at him.
"Dude," I groaned. "Don't sneak up on me like that,"
"What? I didn't sneak," He crossed his arms over his chest in protest. "No sneaking was involved. I just walked over here. And to be fair, this is a library-silence is sacred in a library so technically we're supposed to sneak. We're also the only ones in here right now anyway, so who cares."
My eyes did a pointed sweep of the decidedly empty area before settling back on Harlen's with an unamused glower. "Yeah," I said. "I'm pretty sure the zero other people in here appreciate the deceptive aura of calm. What are you doing here?"
"Well, actually I was doing some research for a paper I'm writing for English." He tightened his grip on his bookbag. "I was told I'd find you here," He explained.
"Why?" I asked. "I didn't tell anyone that I was here."
"I've got my ways of tracking people down."
When he saw my expression, Harlen rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Kaya. I'm just kidding! Is it really that weird that I happen to be in here the same time as you?"
"I guess not."
"I'll let you get back to reading, then. Oh," He started. "I almost forgot. Meet us down at the Love Triangle for lunch. I found a cool place for us to urbex."
My friends and I loved urban exploring. Most of the time it was exciting and exhilarating. Sometimes it was a challenge; some places were remote enough that you could simply walk in through the front door like a welcomed visitor. Other times we would be forced to climb up over fences or crawl through windows.
There was this one time we decided to check out a drainage tunnel because a few people have sworn they heard ominous laughter coming from it. Water seeped into our clothes and we shivered at the coldness. I remember that I cracked a joke about the movie "IT" when we suddenly heard a loud BOOM right next to our heads. I have no idea what caused the sound, but I doubt that it was anything paranormal.
I was in the middle of stabbing at a large crouton with my fork when Harlen, Albie, and Jessica took their seats at the table.
"Hey, Kaya," Albie said as he sat down beside me. Albie and I have been friends since we were little. He was a skinny black guy with a box fade haircut and light brown eyes. We were neither popular nor unpopular. We were what some people called, "drifters" and, according to Albie, those whose social standings meant that if he made random eye contact with someone in the halls he would probably get a nod back, and maybe even a quick "Hey" or "What's up" If you didn't know us personally you'd likely assume that we were siblings, especially with the way we acted around each other most of the time.
"What took you guys so long?" I asked, pointing my fork in his direction.
"It was my fault. I'm sorry." He grumbled, as he unzipped his lunch bag. "Mr. Wizzner chastised me for like, ten minutes."
"To be fair, You were looking at your phone in class." Jessica said. Jessica was Albie's girlfriend, a petite girl with long blond hair, and hazel eyes. "And that wasn't the only thing,"
Albie sighed. "You're not wrong, but he's kind of an asshat."
"You should use that filter once in a while," Jessica said.
"Oh baby, since when have you known me to have such a filter?"
"Oh please," I scoffed. "You just choose not to use it."
Albie gave me a frown and tossed a baby carrot my way, which I was able to dodge easily.
Harlen cleared his throat as he pulled out his phone. "So, shall we get to it, then?"
The Lockwood house had been abandoned for years now, but a few people who have walked the trail close to the place have claimed they could see the spirits of the family walking around inside, and others had even heard music coming from the house. When they went to investigate, there was no one inside.
In 2010 Ethan Lockwood brutally murdered his wife, Anna Lockwood, and her parents Steven and Isabelle Thompson in the middle of the night. Authorities found Anna's parents dead in their bedroom; both of their bodies were in pieces, and their daughter's body was found in the basement. Anna had multiple blunt force head injuries and what's worse, her eyes and tongue were missing. Ethan's body was found in the living room with a shotgun beside him, and a deep laceration on his neck. People have compared this to the Amityville horror - which was a huge reason we were doing this.
"Get this," Harlen said, as he scrolled down. "There was a survivor - a ten year old boy. He also had a twin brother, but he was never found."
Some have assumed the father killed him and buried his body somewhere on the property, and others have assumed the boy escaped and is probably alive under a new identity. I guess we'll never know.
"Holy crap. What happened to the boy who survived?" I asked.
"I don't know. I guess that part was kept confidential," Albie said. "For the boy's protection I guess."
"Poor baby," Jessica frowned.
"So," Harlen said. "Are you guys up for it?"
◇
We all crawled into Harlen's truck around 6pm and headed to the Lockwood house. Albie took his video recorder and held it in front of his face. "Hey, what's up guys, gals, and nonbinary folks!" Albie spoke with conviction as he stared wide-eyed in the video recorder. "We're going to prove that ghosts are real!"
I rolled down the window and glanced out at the scenery. I laughed to myself when we passed a large cornfield. "Guys, this seriously looks like we're going straight into a modern day horror film."
"It really does," Jessica agreed.
"I can already feel this place, I'm beginning to sweat all over." Albie exclaimed as he turned his camera to the window then back on himself.
"Like something about this place isn't right at all? That's pretty understandable, considering." Harlen said, turning down a gravel road.
"We're gonna recieve a ton of views for this!" Albie smiled. He turned the camera toward Harlen who waved back from the review mirror.
"Dude," Harlen chuckled. "I bet some of these viewers are going to think you're crazy because you're willing to allow something to throw you across the room and-possibly-murder you for content."
We pulled up to the gate in front of the two - story colonial home. There was already a green van parked outside the gate to the property. Mark greeted us at the gate with a colorful bottle of vodka. Mark was an average looking guy in his early 20s with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He raised the bottle in his right hand with shot glasses in the other.
"Hey, guys," Mark handed each of us a shot glass. "Did you get here alright?"
"Oh yeah. I've driven passed this place a couple of times, I didn't even need the GPS" Harlen said.
"This definitely screams illegal." I commented, pointedly toward the large house.
"Only if we get caught, but this place is abandoned so I doubt we'll get into any trouble with the law." Harlen said.
"I'm giving you alcohol, and you're more worried about "breaking and entering"? Mark laughed.
Albie took his shot of the Three Olives Loopy vodka and made a face. "This tastes like Tucan Sam fucked me."
"Ew," Jessica grimaced.
Harlen and I laughed. Mark only snorted.
After we each had several shots of vodka, we got ready. We each grabbed a headlight in order to keep our hands free, gloves, and disposable face masks and placed them into our backpacks, along with first aid (just in case). Mark had been urbexing for a while, and he was always prepared with supplies just in case anyone forgot to bring something.
"So, what happens if we're not alone in the house?" Jessica asked.
Even though urbex sites are technically "abandoned" that didn't mean you wouldn't run into other people inside like squatters or addicts, and they may not react well to seeing a stranger in their space.
"It's a good thing I brought this along," Mark said. He pushed his jacket aside and revealed a hand gun tucked inside its holster.
"Holy crap, man." Harlen said.
"I can't believe you brought a gun." Albie said.
Jessica and I were speechless. It's a good idea to bring some sort of self defense tool just in case your physical safety is threatened, but bringing something like a gun raises the risk of you accidentally injuring yourself.
"Of course I did. It's always good to carry protection." Mark explained.
A few minutes after, the five of us walked up to the large rusted gate. With a little bit of work, we each slipped through the bars and headed up to the house.
"You know those haunted attractions where people dress up in order to scare the shit out of you, except it's actual demons and they're going to steal your soul!" Jessica smiled beside Albie who threaded his fingers through hers. "It's actually kinda thrilling."
"Awesome," Harlen smirked. "I'm glad you sound so optimistic about it."
"I try to be!"
We stepped up onto the porch, which wrapped around the front of the house. The paint on the door was chipped with age in places. "Are you guys ready?" Harlen asked. "Once we enter this house, we will possibly become vulnerable to any demonic presence that might reside here."
I rolled my eyes. "If I'm in serious danger, I'm getting out. I'll throw myself out the window if I have to."
"I'm on Kaya's team," Jessica agreed. "Team rational."
"What, and risk getting a broken leg?" Albie asked.
"Better a broken leg than having your soul taken by some kind of entity." I replied.
"Alright, guys let's do this." Harlen said. He opened the door and the five of us headed inside.
The front door opened up into a foyer. Straight ahead of us was a staircase that led up to the second floor. There was a spacious living room to our right and a dining room to our left, and from there, an alcove enterance that led into the kitchen. I could tell that this place had been abandoned for years; there was cobwebs and peeled paint on the walls. There were remnants of furniture left ripped, dismantled, and stained which laid disorderly on the floor of the living room, reminding me of death.
This had once been the home of a happy upper-class family, full of life. Now it was replaced by ghosts of the past, vermin, spiders, dirt, and trash. The smell of rot and the taste of regurgitated food made me grimace in disgust.
"Why hasn't anyone fix this place up and put it back on the market?" Jessica asked.
"Who really knows," Albie replied.
"Hello!" Harlen announced as he twirled on his heels. "Are there any spirits here?" I glanced over at Harlen with a look and he shrugged.
"Is this what you guys imagined?" Mark queried.
"Sure, minus the dead bodies," I walked into the living room and spotted a mid century record player console propped up against the wall next to a grand piano. There was a record still on the turntable, "Tonight You Belong To Me" by "Patience and Prudence"
"Hey, come check this out." Out of curiosity I placed the stylus and tried turning it on, not really expecting anything to happen. I jerked my hand away when it began to play.
I quickly took the needle off, a little creeped out. "Holy crap, that scared me."
"That thing still works?" Albie asked, as he inspected the record player. "That song is kinda sweet,"
"No it isn't," Jessica frowned. "It's the kind of song you would hear while being tortured to death."
After we goofed around a little bit, we all decided to begin exploring around the house. Mark started up the stairs and asked if anyone would like to join him.
"I'll join you, man." Harlen said. He gave me a wink before heading towards the stairs with Mark, and I glanced over at Albie and Jessica as they disappeared down the hall.
I was alone.
I walked over to the piano, and carefully lifted the lid up and over to reveal its keys. My fingers traced the lines in between them and pushed down lightly on a few. The deep sounds reverberated around the room.
My eyes drifted up to the small picture frame sitting on top of the piano. I absent-mindedly bit my bottom lip and reached up to grab the frame. My fingers trailed across the picture, leaving an oily impression against the glass that held the picture in place. A family of four stared back at me and I realized that it was Ethan, Anna, and their twin boys. I was so focused on the twins that I almost didn't hear my phone alerting me that I had a new text message.
It was a text from Albie.
From "Albie" at 6:45pm: Meet us down in the basement. I want to show u something.
To "Albie" at 6:46pm: What is it?
From "Albie" at 6:46pm: There's some cool shit down here. Hurry up.
I rolled my eyes and placed my phone in my pocket as I made my way down the hall. I paused at the top of the basement stairs. I could hear Jessica and Albie, the beems from their headlights bouncing around.
"Albie?" I called out.
"Yeah, Kaya, we're down here." He replied. "Come on down. We have something to show you."
"Alright, I'm coming down hold on." I carefully descended the stairs and turned the corner. "So, what did you want to show me-"
My voice died in my throat. It was dark down here, and my friends were nowhere to be seen. I was gripped by a sudden sense of unnease. I stood near the stairs and turned on my headlamp. "Hello? Albie, this isn't funny, dude."
What answered me was silence. Absolute silence. I was alone, or I thought I was until my light fell onto something moving a few feet in front of me. It was an androgynous looking kid around my age with pale skin, shoulder-length black hair, and violet eyes. They wore a long sleeve gothic cloak poncho, over thin black leggings. Their lips pulled back into a malicious grin as they came closer to me. I watched in horror as their eyes rolled to the back of their head and their mouth split open wide, revealing sharp teeth.
They reached out for me and I screamed in terror, my instincs finally kicked in. I bolted up the steps, and stumbled into the hallway. I ran for the front door and tried to leave, but it wouldn't open. What the hell?! that made no damn sense! My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I felt something touch my shoulder. I screamed, ready to defend myself.
"Hey. Hey! Kaya, stop it's me, Albie."
I stopped struggling as my eyes refocused on the familiar faces in front of me. Albie, Jessica, and Harlen stared back at me with confused alarm.
"Are you alright?" Harlen asked. "What happened?"
I shook my head and quickly glanced behind them at the basement door, but there was nothing there. I know I hadn't imagined it! I turned my attention back to my friends. "I saw something down in the basement! I want to leave. Now."
"What are you talking about, Kaya? Hold up, did you see something down there? Holy shit. The ghosts didn't think one of us would see them, but we did. Can you-"
Before Albie can finish his sentence, I roughly pushed him away from me and turned back to the door. "Damnit, Albie! I don't want to be in this fucking house anymore! It won't open! Why won't it open!"
"Seriously, Kaya what the hell?" Albie asked, almost annoyed.
"Just relax, Kaya. Let me give it a try, alright?" Harlen offered, calmly. He grabbed the knob, but it stayed shut. "What the hell?"
"See? I told you it won't open!" I hissed.
"What do you mean, "it won't open" let me give it a try." Albie shoved his way passed us. He motioned for all of us to stand back and we watched as he tried to use his whole body against it.
"M-maybe the door's jammed." Jessica exclaimed. "Let's chill out. The front door isn't the only exit out of this place."
"Jessica's right. Let's try the door in the kitchen." Harlen said. We entered the kitchen and Harlen quickly made his way over to the screen door that faced the forest. He cursed under his breath. "Damnit. Nothing."
"Hold up, guys. Where's Mark?" Albie asked.
Harlen quickly pulled his phone out to call Mark when we all collectively got a text from him. Reminding us that we had set up a group chat for easy contact. Harlen glanced back at me with an odd expression I couldn't name. I opened my texts and a sharp stab of dread settled in my stomach.
From "Mark" at 7:05pm: I'm down in the basement, Harlen. Where r u?
From "Mark" at 7:06pm: Harlen is that u? It's not funny, man.
Harlen texted Mark that we were all in the kitchen. I watched as the three small dots in a text bubble pending before it disappeared and Harlen's cell phone rang. He answered and placed Mark on speaker phone.
"What the hell do you mean you're in the kitchen? I definitely heard your voice down here."
Harlen cursed, and told Mark to make his way to the kitchen. Harlen started toward the basement and we all followed right behind him. Before we could reach the stairs to the basement, however, the door swung shut, the force of it knocked us backwards. We heard Mark's gun go off several times followed by his peircing screams of terror before they were abruptly cut short. In our inebriated panic, I failed at the last second to realize we were all running in different directions.
I remember running up the stairs and locking the bathroom door behind me. My heart pounded painfully against my ribcage as I fumbled for my phone, thankful that it hadn't fallen out of my pocket. I willed myself to control my sobs and called 911, but for some reason my call wouldn't go through.
"Nononono! Fuck, please no." I collapsed against the bathtub and cried into my sleeves. Paranoia nearly consumed me once I thought of my friends and every horrible scenario when I received a text from Albie. I looked at it confused.
I wiped the snot from my face and quickly texted him back. How in the hell was I able to receive his texts when I couldn't get ahold of the cops?
From "Albie" at 7:20pm: Apparently we can contact each other in this house, but our phone's service seems to be cut off from the outside world. Where r u?
What the hell is going on in this place??
To "Albie" at 7:21pm: I'm in the upstairs bathroom. Do u know where Harlen and Jess are?
From "Albie" at 7:25pm: Jess is with me. I don't know where Harlen is.
My stomach dropped, but before I could reply Albie sent another text, and what I read made my blood run cold.
From "Albie" at 7:25pm: There is smthing moving in the hallway outside the room we r in. Stay quiet and keep ur phone on silent. If we need to contact each other use text.
It was around thirty minutes after when Albie replied with another text updating me with their situation. The thing stalking outside their room a while ago was gone now, and it hadn't come back.
From "Albie" at 8:00pm: We're going to make our way to you. Stay where u r
To "Albie" at 8:02pm: Ok. Be careful.
I slowly got to my feet and set my phone down beside the sink and took a deep breath to level my breathing. Suddenly, I heard something pound against the door. I screamed and stumbled backward. "Holy shit!"
"Kaya?" It was Harlen. "Kaya, is that you?"
"H-Harlen?" I collected myself and made my way over to the bathroom door. I walked into the hallway, relieved that I wasn't alone anymore. Harlen was safe, thank God. "Oh my god, Harlen I'm so glad you're-"
I gasped, and I stumbled forward as the door behind me slammed shut. I felt a sudden wave of dread wash over me as my eyes swept up and down the vacant hallway. Whatever was keeping us here tricked me. I quickly tried going back into the bathroom, but it wouldn't open, not only that but I left my phone by the sink. "No! Damnit!" I needed my phone, it was my only way to stay in contact with my friends, and how was Albie going to know where I was? I had two options, I could try and make my way to Albie or find another place to hide.
My heart thudded loudly in my ears as my headlamp bounced off the walls, chasing nothing more than shadows. I stuck close to the wall as I made my way down the hall. From somewhere down the hall, I heard a voice call out. It was Albie's voice telling me to come over to him. I hesitated for a moment. What if it was another trick? It definitely could be since whatever is toying with us was capable of mimicking voices. What if it really was Albie? Regardless, I had to go passed the room if I wanted to find Albie or another place to hide.
"Kaya, we're in here," Albie whispered to me as I got closer to one of the bedrooms. I hesitated before I stepped inside. The bedroom smelled awful, like rotten meat hung out in the sun for too long. My headlamp's light swept the room until it landed on a lone figure lying face-up on the bed.
"...Albie?" I whispered, tentatively. My voice sounded thin, like old paper. The figure on the bed didn't answer, but when I crept closer, I slipped on something wet. I glanced down at the floor. It was blood; a trail of blood led in from the doorway all the way to the bed. "Oh my god!" I screamed. My stomach rebelled and I heaved out my lunch until I couldn't expel anything else.
My throat burned as I wiped my mouth, and my chest hurt from sobbing out his name. Mark laid sprawled on the bed, his abdomen was ripped open and what remained of his entrails spilled over his body like a gory blanket. I stumbled backward, I fell against the door closing it shut. I was about to leave when I spotted the gun tucked under Mark's jacket.
Oh god, this was probably the worst decision ever and the likelihood that this was yet another trick was high, but I needed something to protect myself with. I've watched Mark use it before when we all went camping a year ago, so I kind of knew how to use it. I steeled myself and started toward the bed.
The closer I got the more I can see the damage done to his body; his abdomen and chest cavity were open and hollowed out. The skin looked like it was rolled back, torn and ragged. His sternum was completely gone, a few of his ribs were cracked so they protruded from either side of his body like fangs. Half of his bottom lip looked like it was chewed off and his left ear was missing. I shook my head and tentatively reached out for the gun. Just as I grabbed it, I felt something gooey covered on the grip of the gun.
I yelped and dropped it on the floor. I cursed and bent down to pick it up. Once I did I wiped the substance off with my sleeve with a grimace and made sure the safety was on. I was tucking it into my jacket pocket when something dripped onto my hand. I looked up and saw Mark or what used to be Mark looming over me from the ceiling like Spiderman. His eyes were oily black, his face twisted in an agonized and vengeful expression. Before I could move, he threw himself at me.
Somehow, I managed to dodge him and wrench the door open, hitting Mark as he lunged at me. The blow was hard enough that it sent Mark sprawling across the floor. I rushed out of the room and back into the empty hallway. I took a chance and looked back, but Mark wasn't there.
When I reached the end of the hallway, I felt hands grab me and pull me around the corner. I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. Panic cut through my body like a hot blade, and new found adrenaline flooded my system as I twisted and shoved at the person holding me immobile.
"Kaya, stop," Albie hissed. "It's me."
I turned around and my eyes widened with tears as Albie released his hand from my mouth, and Jessica pulled me into a hug as I told them what happened. Albie pointed towards the stairs and motioned for us to follow. Albie led us into the foyer. We heard movement in the basement so as quickly and quietly as we could, we crawled inside a closet across from the living room.
"What are we going to do?" Jessica asked. "We have no weapons!"
"I found this on Mark's body." I exclaimed as I showed them the hand gun.
Albie got to his feet. "ah, crap...I'm going to be right back. I left my camera in the kitchen."
"What? Hell no." I hissed. Splitting up is a terrible Idea! Risking his life for that damn camera? Was he an idiot?
"Just stay here, alright? Kaya, keep that gun out." He said, with no room for an argument. "Whatever this thing is, it can mimic our voices so we'll need a password to distinguish them from us." He took out his phone and typed Last Alliance
After he left, I crawled over to the door and locked it. I sat down next to Jessica who was sobbing. I turned to her and placed my palms to her tear stained face. "Hey, Jess. We'll make it out of here alright? I promise-"
Jessica shook her head and pushed my hands away from her face. "Don't say that shit to me. We're going to die here, Kaya!" She hissed. "Why is this happening? I wanna go home!"
I sat back against the wall and sighed.
Ten minutes later I heard movement coming from outside the room. I quickly got to my feet and placed my hands on the door.
"Last Alliance," Albie whispered, rather quickly. "Hurry up and let me in."
I hadn't even released the door knob when Albie pushed passed me and helped Jessica to her feet without much protest on her end. "Shit, it was him all along."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"I caught it on camera!" He whispered frantically. "The reason he brought us out here wasn't to-shit-" he was breathing hard. He moved toward me and shoved the camera in my direction. "Here, hold onto it for-" His sentence was cut off abruptly as the thing that used to be Mark drilled his fist into Albie's chest from behind. Albie's eyes widened as his mind had come to the realization at what happened.
Mark dropped Albie's body on the ground and his lips twisted into a manic grin as he examined his blood-covered arm. "He was spying on us," Mark said, but it didn't sound like Mark anymore. His voice sounded like several voices overlapping, fighting for center stage. "He didn't think that we would notice, but we did."
We screamed, and holding onto the camera with one hand I pulled her toward me with the other, quickly. We couldn't save him, and I knew that if we didn't move now we would end up just like him.
Jessica and I bolted down the hallway and back up the stairs. We found an empty room that must have been a personal office at one point, and barricaded ourselves inside. I cursed when I noticed the room we were in didn't have a window wide enough for us to escape through. I sat against the wall beside Jessica who sobbed into her sleeves.
I glanced down at the camcorder which felt heavy in my hand. What did Albie capture on camera that had him so upset? I turned it on and what I saw on the screen made my blood run cold. It was Harlen, the kid from the basement who stood beside Harlen, and the thing that used to be Mark; Harlen was speaking to him, but it was in a strange language that I couldn't understand. After he was finished, the thing that used to be Mark knelt down as if Harlen was some kind of royalty, and that was where the video stopped.
I heard that thing right outside the room we were in. He was telling us that no matter what we did, we were not leaving this place. A few seconds later, he broke through the door, pushing the desk and chairs out of the way with ease. With the force, one of the chairs knocked me to the floor.
He released a sick and twisted laughter, and stalked toward me, eyes filled with malice. Jessica grabbed something heavy from the floor and chucked it at Mark. Mark was startled for a second, and then slowly turned his attention to her. She yelped and frantically swept her eyes around the room for anything she could use as a weapon. He lunged for her and they collided to the floor.
I fumbled for my jacket's zipper for the gun, but I was too late. I watched in utter horror as he ripped into my friend; her screams of terror and agony will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I pulled myself to my feet, my back bumped into something hard. A metal filing cabinet. Mark turned his attention back on me, but before he could reach me, he tripped over something and he fell to the floor. I shifted, and using my whole body weight, I managed to tip it over. It landed on top of Mark with a sickening crunch of bone and viscera.
I slowly made my way to Jessica's body and collapsed to my knees. I clutched at my own head and screamed until it hurt. At that moment, all I wanted to do was crumble in defeat. My voice had broken into heavy sobs so loud and ugly that I almost didn't hear Harlen's footsteps behind me.
"Kaya, is that you?" He called out to me, his voice full of worry. I was hardly listening to him. This was his fault! Rage spiked through me like a knife to my gut, it twisted and turned until I was all ground beef inside; I had the sudden urge to pull the gun from my jacket and-no, I had to calm down. Maybe if I feigned ignorance, I might still have a chance to escape, however slim that was. He bent down, and I let him pull me along with him without protest. With his eyes forward, I slowly put my hand on the gun.
We were almost to the kitchen when Harlen turned around, and leaned against the wall. "So, you know, don't you."
It wasn't a question. I slowly pulled out the gun, unlocked it, and trained it on him. He stared at me with an unsettling expression, and I could have sworn his eyes were black. I suddenly felt an intense pressure pour down on me. I could feel a miasma of something intense as his eyes bore into mine; my arms trembled with the effort of keeping them aloft. The gun clenched tightly in my hands like a life line. I couldn't faulter. I knew that if I did, even for an instant, Harlen would undoubtedly kill me.
"Oh, don't be like that, Kaya. You're not getting out of this house unless I say so, so let's just chat, hm?"
I shook my head and raised the gun to his chest, and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of a surprised expression on his face when I pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot reverberated around me. I pulled the trigger again and again, but the gun was empty. I dropped it to the floor, my hands shaking. He glanced down at himself. "Huh. Well, would ya look at that, you managed to get me through the ribs, good job."
I was running before Harlen finished his sentence. However, he wasn't coming after me-at least not yet. Figures. I couldn't leave this place so he had no reason to put much effort into the chase. I stumbled through the house, catching myself on overturned furniture in order to keep my balance as I made my way towards the stairs.
I tripped over something and I caught myself against the wall across from the stairs. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. The house seemed to resonate with his manic laughter. I glanced behind me, and I felt a wave of cold dread as he sauntered toward me down the hall. Hands in his pockets, with an almost amused expression.
"Where do you think you're going, Kaya?" He asked. "Didn't I tell you before?"
The words, "There is no escape" suddenly appeared all over the walls in blood. I cursed, and pushed myself off the wall and bolted up the steps, down the hall, and into one of the bedrooms and quickly closed the door. I looked around at what was once a child's room. There was a twin sized bed in the center of the room, a nightstand across from the closet, and a bathroom.
I spotted a decent sized window and I ran over to it, but it wouldn't open and I cursed when there was nothing around me to break it with. Without any time to come up with a plan, I quickly slid underneath the bed and turned off my headlamp. I immediately cursed at myself again, of all the places to hide I chose the first place any one would look!
I contemplated whether or not to find another hiding place, but before I could move I heard him make his way down the hall singing that creepy ass song. "My honey I know with the dawn that you will be gone, but tonight you belong to me, just little 'ol me~"
The bedroom door opened. I covered my mouth and tried to silence my breathing, hoping to God that he wouldn't find me under the bed. I watched in fear as he closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed. The bed dipped slightly as Harlen's weight sank onto it. He told me things I didn't want to hear and more. This monster-this demon-slithered into our lives just for all of this to happen.
My eyes widened and I tucked my arms to my sides, the wooden bed frame gave a protest above me as Harlen laid down on top of it. Then he sighed, almost forlorn. "This was my brother's room, you know. Coming back here brings back so many memories,"
Right after he said that I felt something prickle behind my eyelids. I shut my eyes tightly as gruesome scenes appeared inside my head. There was so much blood, and images shown of a young boy in pajamas stalking through the house with an ax in his hands picking off his family members one by one-doing things a normal child his size wouldn't be able to do, but Harlen was anything but normal. I felt bile rise in my throat but I managed to keep it down.
"The final stage of grief is acceptance, Kaya." He said. His cruel voice brought me back to the present. "You have a lot of spirit, I like that. I'm also in a good mood so I'll give you two options: you can either die here or you can come with me. You should be grateful that I'm even giving you an option. So, what's it going to be?"
I opened my mouth and closed it again; what was I supposed to say to something like that? What was going to happen to me if I said yes? If I said no...
A low growl -yes, a growl- rumbled above me and I felt something snag my ankle. I panicked, my fingers tore into the wooden floor as I was dragged out from underneath the bed. I was thrown across the room, pain shot up my back as something bit into my spine. Harlen straightened up and started toward me. I quickly averted my gaze, the panic swarmed all over me like a hive of angry bees.
"Wh-why are you d-doing this?" I asked, my breath hitched between sobs.
Harlen knelt down in front of me. "Hey...hey look at me, Kaya."
Absolute terror gripped me as he forced me to look at him. His features weren't human; the light of the moon highlighted the inhuman planes of his face. Black, spidery thread-like lines creeped around his forehead and right beneath his oily black eyes. His mouth had split open, wider than any human mouth was capable of.
His nails grew long and sharp against my chin. It was mesmerizing, fascinating almost, like watching a lion's face before it tears yours off. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe; my lungs felt swollen and inflamed, my hands came up to my throat as I coughed and wheezed. Was this an asthma attack? No, it was Harlen.
"When I ask you a question, do not answer it with another question do you understand?" He snarled. "You will understand why when you arrive. Now, will it be a yes or a no?"
His features calmed and he looked human again, and whatever power on me broke, it allowed me to inhale sharply. I gasped. I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to rage. Instead, I dropped my hands on my thighs. I wanted to live.
◇
"Kaya, honey" My mom said, as she came into my hospital room, "You've got someone to see you this morning! One of your friends from school, I think."
I placed my book down on the table beside me. She bent down and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "And he's very attractive," She whispered, "It's not every day a tall handsome boy comes to sit by your bedside."
I nodded and gave her a small smile as my chest filled with dread. The doctor informed my mom that I was found in the middle of the woods, unconcious by a young man. She had no idea what really happened to me or what happened to my friends'. Harlen told me that he had ways of covering his tracks so there was no use in telling anyone what really happened. It didn't matter if I did or not because no one would believe me anyway.
Harlen came around the corner with a bouquet of flowers. My mom smiled at him and walked toward the door, "I'll just leave you two alone. What did you say your name was again?"
"My name is Harlen," He said, as he stepped forward. "Harlen Lockwood."
"Nice to meet you, Harlen," She said, smiling back at him before exiting the room.
Harlen placed the flowers on the table and sat down next to the hospital bed, he placed a hand on my thigh. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, Kaya." He said. He gently pushed a loose strand of my hair out of my face and gently tucked it behind my ear. "Remember what we talked about. You will come to me after you are discharged from the hospital,"
I shivered at his touch, and out of curiosity I asked, "What happens if I don't?"
Harlen let loose a dark chuckle. His head dips until his lips skate by the curve of my ear. "Then I'll hunt you down." He whispered to me like it's obvious. "I'll kill you and everyone you care about. I'm capable of all sorts of horrors; things you can't even imagine." I watched as Harlen stood up from the seat.
"Now, I've got a few things to do before you arrive," Harlen said, smiling down at me. He paused by the room's door. "I'll see you soon."
His visit was a few days ago. I've made up my mind; all of those lives are dependent on me. Everything that happened that night was real. I know that most people won't believe me, but to be quite honest I don't care anymore.
[Update] I just got the news I'll be discharged tomorrow.
2023.03.20 16:26 manufacture_reborn Creative Destruction
Transcript of Interview with Operative #35579; Returning for Debrief from Assignment #4265
"So, we've seen your initial analysis paper and reviewed your observations data - and to be completely honest, most of it is not adding up for us."
"Yes, I can imagine that would be the case, but I assure you I was extremely rigorous in my methods and careful to ensure that everything I have put into my report is accurate. I stand by the work."
"We do not doubt that your report accurately reflects your perceptions of the species, but there are many on the aggregation and evaluations team who have expressed some level of skepticism about the claims you've made."
"And those skepticisms are?"
"Well, in short, the level of decohesion you note in your report amongst the species should - by every sociological and biological metric - render advanced civilization impossible to achieve or sustain. A species which reportedly has such a variety of philosophies, ethical structures, values, morals, and normative viewpoints cannot reach the heights you've described nor sustain those heights for long."
"They are a contentious lot, I will not dispute that point and it remains to be seen whether they can sustain the progress they've made thus far, but by their own assessment it IS the disunity amongst them that has allowed for their sudden technological advancement."
"You'll forgive me for belaboring this but I'm afraid I'm still failing to comprehend you completely. We have run observations on more than two thousand pre-sapient and early sapient species with competitive internal social structures and exactly zero of them have achieved internal combustion engines let alone atom smashing. We have run extensive simulations as well, I checked before we sat down for this discussion and of the more than sixteen billion simulated societies with a cohesion score of less than 2.5 and do you know how many have achieved orbit? Set up off world colonies? Sent probes to other star systems?"
"None?"
"None. And yet, this species, with an asinine cohesion value of 0.72 has achieved a rate of technological progression which is beyond simple linearity - it has been exponential. Frankly, it shouldn't exist. They shouldn't exist. Infighting and inefficient allocation of effort and resources spent competing amongst themselves should have caused them to collapse or at least plateau."
"And yet..."
*A long sigh can be heard.*
"And yet, I have no choice but to accept your report as accurate. It matches our long range sensor data. Did you know that they're fighting an interstellar conflict amongst themselves right now? We can pick up neutrino cascades from their atomics."
"They're fighting four concurrent interstellar wars, actually."
"Four?! Nevermind that, in spite of this tendency to self-destruction, your analysis claims that they will still reach technological parity with the galactic community within two-hundred standard years. You further claim that if left undisturbed, they shall be in ascendancy over all of us within five hundred standard years. This is astonishing, and deeply disturbing, progress."
"I used all the standard models for projecting growth, though I had to modify the equations to allow for decohesion and internal competition. I assume you've checked my work?"
"We feel your work is valid - even if we do not like the results you obtained."
"So, then, you know what I know. Their species, the humans, appear to be wholly unique amongst the galactic community. They have already surpassed some of the lower tier species in several scientific and engineering fields even though, by virtue of their newness on the galactic stage, they have yet to realize they are not alone in the universe."
"Yes, and we have already convened a special session of the council to discuss what level of force will be required to reduce the potential threat level to acceptable parameters. Our initial analysis gives full eradication the highest probability of success at 95.6%. The next highest confidence level is political infiltration and chemical sterilization but that only reached a 58.6% probability so we'll be recommending the former to the council."
"That would not be advisable."
"Explain."
"Look, you haven't been among humans as I have. They're completely relentless - especially when you take away their alternatives. Yes, we might be able to grind them into dust through force, but if we don't succeed, you can push my 500 year time horizon up to 100 years or less."
"You're being hyperbolic, surely."
"I am not. They exist for competition - if you give them one, even one with an impossible bar, they'll find a way to get over it. They may even have a higher cohesion score by the end, but you won't be happy with the prediction accuracy that will give us because the only prediction will be that they will stop at nothing to see that we can never compete with them again. None of us, if that's what it will take."
"You really believe they would commit xenocide against all the races of the galaxy?"
"If we gave them no alternative? Yes, absolutely, and with no hesitation."
"That's barbaric. Monstrous even."
"No, it's winning the competition for survival through supremacy. It's winning all future conflicts by winning the first without any doubt as to who the victor was."
"I'm beginning to wonder if you need a full psych eval."
"I've been wondering the same. I don't know that it would find anything though. It's just that I cannot unsee the ways they create meaning and order through destruction. They have a metaphor for this, you know - its an imaginary winged creature, not entirely dissimilar to the feathered creatures which fly across the skies of their homeworld. However, this imagined creature is born only out of the ashes of the one which came before it. It cannot be created by any means other than the destruction of its predecessor. They call it a 'phoenix' and say that it represents creativity and rebirth. But, there is another descriptor they use for this imagined beast. They say that from the moment it is born until the time that it is ash - it is aflame. This, they say, represents its passion and will. Aflame with life through death and birth and death and birth. That is humanity. That is what we're up against - or not - if we choose our path forward wisely."
"I do not understand."
"Nor did I. Creative destruction - that's the term for it among their kind. An oxymoron of a term for an oxymoron of a species. You see, their infighting, their lack of cohesion, the competition which drives them. All of it is creative destruction."
"It is impossible to create something by destroying something else."
"Of course it is. And, they manage to do it anyway."
"What then do you suggest we do about these humans? All you have said only reaffirms in my mind that complete annihilation is the only suitable course for the stability and prosperity of the races of the galaxy."
"There is very probably only one course which offers hope. As yet, we are still the more mature, the more advanced. If we were to be magnanimous with the humans, share with them freely all the knowledge that we have cultivated over all our long millennia - then when they surpass us, they may guard and protect us."
"From whom, them?"
"Yes, or from any other. They are like that, also. Compassion is not lost in their competition. They can be driven to destroy, yes, both themselves and others. But, they are somehow also able to love each other even as they compete with one another. They may well be able to love us too, if we give them an open hand rather than a closed fist."
"Not one word you've said makes the least sense. You say that they are competitive. They are clearly un-cohesive. They slaughter each other by the millions and billions without discrimination. Yet, you say that they have the capacity for mercy in their competition? You say that they can create by destroying? You say that they can guard us from harm though they be inferior to us? These are the ravings of a lunatic. This is not the counsel of a trained operative."
"Perhaps not, but it is still the only solution. If we strike and fail, it shall be the end of all of us. They may not even need to stop competing amongst themselves as they out-compete us. For we shall have given them a new game to play amongst their kind - who can develop the greatest weapon? Who can lead the most decorated fleet? Who can rain fire down upon the most of our worlds? Yes, such a competition would suit the flame inside them just as well as a competition for who could help the most of us. Who could protect and uplift the most of us."
"I do not believe there is any more value to be gleaned from this interview. Surely your mind has been warped during your time with these creatures, these humans. Somehow your ability to see clearly has been clouded. I shall end the recording here."
"I wonder, then, what beautiful things shall they create from our ashes?"
submitted by manufacture_reborn to HFY [link] [comments]
"So, we've seen your initial analysis paper and reviewed your observations data - and to be completely honest, most of it is not adding up for us."
"Yes, I can imagine that would be the case, but I assure you I was extremely rigorous in my methods and careful to ensure that everything I have put into my report is accurate. I stand by the work."
"We do not doubt that your report accurately reflects your perceptions of the species, but there are many on the aggregation and evaluations team who have expressed some level of skepticism about the claims you've made."
"And those skepticisms are?"
"Well, in short, the level of decohesion you note in your report amongst the species should - by every sociological and biological metric - render advanced civilization impossible to achieve or sustain. A species which reportedly has such a variety of philosophies, ethical structures, values, morals, and normative viewpoints cannot reach the heights you've described nor sustain those heights for long."
"They are a contentious lot, I will not dispute that point and it remains to be seen whether they can sustain the progress they've made thus far, but by their own assessment it IS the disunity amongst them that has allowed for their sudden technological advancement."
"You'll forgive me for belaboring this but I'm afraid I'm still failing to comprehend you completely. We have run observations on more than two thousand pre-sapient and early sapient species with competitive internal social structures and exactly zero of them have achieved internal combustion engines let alone atom smashing. We have run extensive simulations as well, I checked before we sat down for this discussion and of the more than sixteen billion simulated societies with a cohesion score of less than 2.5 and do you know how many have achieved orbit? Set up off world colonies? Sent probes to other star systems?"
"None?"
"None. And yet, this species, with an asinine cohesion value of 0.72 has achieved a rate of technological progression which is beyond simple linearity - it has been exponential. Frankly, it shouldn't exist. They shouldn't exist. Infighting and inefficient allocation of effort and resources spent competing amongst themselves should have caused them to collapse or at least plateau."
"And yet..."
*A long sigh can be heard.*
"And yet, I have no choice but to accept your report as accurate. It matches our long range sensor data. Did you know that they're fighting an interstellar conflict amongst themselves right now? We can pick up neutrino cascades from their atomics."
"They're fighting four concurrent interstellar wars, actually."
"Four?! Nevermind that, in spite of this tendency to self-destruction, your analysis claims that they will still reach technological parity with the galactic community within two-hundred standard years. You further claim that if left undisturbed, they shall be in ascendancy over all of us within five hundred standard years. This is astonishing, and deeply disturbing, progress."
"I used all the standard models for projecting growth, though I had to modify the equations to allow for decohesion and internal competition. I assume you've checked my work?"
"We feel your work is valid - even if we do not like the results you obtained."
"So, then, you know what I know. Their species, the humans, appear to be wholly unique amongst the galactic community. They have already surpassed some of the lower tier species in several scientific and engineering fields even though, by virtue of their newness on the galactic stage, they have yet to realize they are not alone in the universe."
"Yes, and we have already convened a special session of the council to discuss what level of force will be required to reduce the potential threat level to acceptable parameters. Our initial analysis gives full eradication the highest probability of success at 95.6%. The next highest confidence level is political infiltration and chemical sterilization but that only reached a 58.6% probability so we'll be recommending the former to the council."
"That would not be advisable."
"Explain."
"Look, you haven't been among humans as I have. They're completely relentless - especially when you take away their alternatives. Yes, we might be able to grind them into dust through force, but if we don't succeed, you can push my 500 year time horizon up to 100 years or less."
"You're being hyperbolic, surely."
"I am not. They exist for competition - if you give them one, even one with an impossible bar, they'll find a way to get over it. They may even have a higher cohesion score by the end, but you won't be happy with the prediction accuracy that will give us because the only prediction will be that they will stop at nothing to see that we can never compete with them again. None of us, if that's what it will take."
"You really believe they would commit xenocide against all the races of the galaxy?"
"If we gave them no alternative? Yes, absolutely, and with no hesitation."
"That's barbaric. Monstrous even."
"No, it's winning the competition for survival through supremacy. It's winning all future conflicts by winning the first without any doubt as to who the victor was."
"I'm beginning to wonder if you need a full psych eval."
"I've been wondering the same. I don't know that it would find anything though. It's just that I cannot unsee the ways they create meaning and order through destruction. They have a metaphor for this, you know - its an imaginary winged creature, not entirely dissimilar to the feathered creatures which fly across the skies of their homeworld. However, this imagined creature is born only out of the ashes of the one which came before it. It cannot be created by any means other than the destruction of its predecessor. They call it a 'phoenix' and say that it represents creativity and rebirth. But, there is another descriptor they use for this imagined beast. They say that from the moment it is born until the time that it is ash - it is aflame. This, they say, represents its passion and will. Aflame with life through death and birth and death and birth. That is humanity. That is what we're up against - or not - if we choose our path forward wisely."
"I do not understand."
"Nor did I. Creative destruction - that's the term for it among their kind. An oxymoron of a term for an oxymoron of a species. You see, their infighting, their lack of cohesion, the competition which drives them. All of it is creative destruction."
"It is impossible to create something by destroying something else."
"Of course it is. And, they manage to do it anyway."
"What then do you suggest we do about these humans? All you have said only reaffirms in my mind that complete annihilation is the only suitable course for the stability and prosperity of the races of the galaxy."
"There is very probably only one course which offers hope. As yet, we are still the more mature, the more advanced. If we were to be magnanimous with the humans, share with them freely all the knowledge that we have cultivated over all our long millennia - then when they surpass us, they may guard and protect us."
"From whom, them?"
"Yes, or from any other. They are like that, also. Compassion is not lost in their competition. They can be driven to destroy, yes, both themselves and others. But, they are somehow also able to love each other even as they compete with one another. They may well be able to love us too, if we give them an open hand rather than a closed fist."
"Not one word you've said makes the least sense. You say that they are competitive. They are clearly un-cohesive. They slaughter each other by the millions and billions without discrimination. Yet, you say that they have the capacity for mercy in their competition? You say that they can create by destroying? You say that they can guard us from harm though they be inferior to us? These are the ravings of a lunatic. This is not the counsel of a trained operative."
"Perhaps not, but it is still the only solution. If we strike and fail, it shall be the end of all of us. They may not even need to stop competing amongst themselves as they out-compete us. For we shall have given them a new game to play amongst their kind - who can develop the greatest weapon? Who can lead the most decorated fleet? Who can rain fire down upon the most of our worlds? Yes, such a competition would suit the flame inside them just as well as a competition for who could help the most of us. Who could protect and uplift the most of us."
"I do not believe there is any more value to be gleaned from this interview. Surely your mind has been warped during your time with these creatures, these humans. Somehow your ability to see clearly has been clouded. I shall end the recording here."
"I wonder, then, what beautiful things shall they create from our ashes?"
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2023.03.20 15:43 Erutious The Honeyed Lies of Jamison March
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
submitted by Erutious to u/Erutious [link] [comments]
When Jamison March, owner of March Mortuaries, put a sign out in front of his business saying that he would be selling honey, people thought it must be a joke.
What kind of mortician would sell honey? Would he sell it next to the caskets in his showroom? Would he offer it graveside at the cemetery? No one knew, but there was much speculation about that little sign.
Those who asked Jamison were in for quite a treat. Jamison told them that he would be selling his honey right here at the mortuary and even gave them a sample so they might tell their friends. What they sampled was supposedly the best honey any of them had ever eaten. They went on and on about the texture and the taste and the strange, exotic flavors within the honey. They said how they couldn't wait for Jamison to sell his honey, and they would be buying as much as they could on the opening day.
Others began to question where he was keeping his bees? They saw no beehives on his property, a two-bedroom apartment above the mortuary. They saw no hives on the mortuary property at all, in fact. They saw no hives in the cemetery or near the crematorium, but still, the honey came.
On the third of March, the first jar of that miraculous concoction appeared in the front room of Jamison's Mortuary. The mortuary was crowded for the next several days, and by Friday, not a jar was left to be purchased. Again, people praised the texture in the taste, as well as the myriad flavors that one would find within that jar. One of the buyers, Burt Lancaster, owned a large honey operation of his own. It is said that when he tasted Jamison honey, he proclaimed that no bee in his field had ever produced anything so sweet. Some would tell you that he burned his beehives that very afternoon, but that's a little more than town gossip.
For that summer back in 1986, no one could get enough of Jamison's honey.
They say Hellen Price used that honey to defeat her arrival, Linda Moore, in that summer's Fourth of July dessert bake-off.
They say Bert Cavill put that honey in his mead and could not make enough of it to satiate the local drunks.
They say Mary Sanders was taken to the hospital over at Oakley when she ate ten jars in a day and was reaching for an eleventh when her stomach ruptured.
But, again, that's all town gossip.
What is fact was the discovery made by Randall Smith, a local tabloid writer, in the fall of eighty-six.
Randall had a reputation for being less of a journalist and more of a mudslinger. If there was a nasty rumor started, Randall could usually be traced back to it. He had grown pretty tired of hearing about Jamison and his amazing honey. Randall was of the opinion that if something was too good to be true, then it likely was. He thought Jamison's honey must have some sort of secret ingredient that got people addicted to it. Maybe it was even a cover for some kind of dope operation that Jamison was running out of the mortuary or the cemetery. Whatever the case, Randall could smell the story, and it would be sweeter than any nectar the old mortician could produce.
So one night, as the moon hung full over Pleasant Rest Cemetery, Randall and his friends, Rooster Mallory and Charles Drainer, took a trip out to the cemetery to have a look around. Someone had reported earlier that week that they had seen some larger-than-normal bees around the cemetery grounds and speculated that these may be the source of Jamison's honey. It was the only lead that Randall had and seemed as good a lead as any. So after a couple of drinks at the Legion hall, the three men piled into Rooster's old Chevy and headed down to do some late-night snooping.
Randall still tells anyone who will listen how the graveyard was as silent as its namesake. The gate was locked, sporting a brand new Academy Security Lock, one of the big, thick gold ones that graced the sheds and fences of discerning security buffs in town. So, the three men had to find a different way in. This was strange since the cemetery had never been locked before. Jamison had always let people come and go as they please, but just recently, the old man has gotten a little cagey about many things. For one, the cemetery was now locked after nightfall. For another, no one was allowed in the basement of the mortuary, not even the man who came to deliver the bodies from the families. For third, no one but his two sons were allowed to work in the mortuary anymore, and both of them were under pain of death should they reveal the secret of Jamison's honey.
The three men had walked around the cemetery fence before they found a spot where the last windstorm had knocked down a thick old pine. It lay on the sharp points around the top, creating a rude bridge over the wall. None of them being particularly spry, they had them all carefully shimmied up the fallen tree and then dropped down into the cemetery, careful not to get stuck on the spikes. They all felt a chill as they stood in the quiet boneyard, and Randall claims that Rooster looked ready to brave the spikes if it meant being out of there.
The wind rattled the skeletal trees on the grounds, and the little flags that had been stuck on some of the graves for Labor Day snapped mischievously and startled them more than once. They had brought flashlights, but the big old traitors' moon that looked down on them was more than enough to keep them from tripping into an open grave or smashing their shins on an ill-placed tombstone. The quiet cemetery was enough to sober even the bravest of them, and it was probably why they heard the shovels before they saw the men.
Crouching behind a particularly large family headstone, Randal saw two men digging in a fresh grave. They were exhuming a body by the light of that pregnant moon, and Randall knew whose it was to boot. He had been to the widow Hadley's funeral that day, and it appeared that whoever these men were, they were taking her from her freshly dug plot. As they watched, the corpse flopped to the surface unceremoniously, followed by March's sons, Hannibal and Gavin. Hannibal hefted the body, leaving his younger brother to fill in the hole as he took it deeper into the cemetery. Gavin went to his work and bent as he was; he didn't notice the three men as they snuck around him and followed his older brother. Hannibal had been a football player, a linebacker for the local high school team in his day. He toted the frail old woman as easily as someone might a sack of grain. As they followed him, the three men weren't sure what they expected to find, but Randall was certain it would be something that would add a macabre twinge to the story he was working on.
They followed Hannibal as he came to a newly built mausoleum, the name across the door reading March. He unlocked the door and unceremoniously tossed the old woman into the crypt. The men hunkered low behind a pair of tombstones, but they needn't have bothered. Hannibal was a big boy, but his night eyes left something to be desired. He no more saw them than he did the place marker that he nearly tripped over on the way back to his brother, and as he stomped off into the cemetery, the three men approached the crypt.
The mortuary was a nice new one. Sunk into the ground a little to protect any caskets placed down there, it would have looked more at home in New Orleans than this Georgia backwater town. To the knowledge of anyone in town, the Marches did not have a family crypt until very recently. The only March buried there would be Jamison's wife since his mother and father were buried up in Macon at their own family plot. Hannibal may not have been the smartest March in town, but it appeared he was smart enough to lock up behind himself. Another one of those big, thick locks that had been found on the front gate greeted them, and the three men were forced to prowl around the mausoleum to see what they could find.
It was Charles who found the little vent in the mausoleum, but it was Randall who saw the horrors that lay inside.
Randall and Rooster had been looking for a window or perhaps another entrance when Charles had come hoofing it back to them to say that he had found a little vent that opened into the crypt. Randall asked him to show them where it was, and the three men found a little opening big enough for a large child to fit inside. Charles and Rooster were pulp wooders and much too big to squeeze into holes. However, Randall had made a career of squeezing into places he was not wanted.
Opting to stick his head in to get a better look, Randall had his friend hold his legs while he shimmied into the vent. Charles and Rooster slid him in as far as they could, and they said his flashlight could be seen through the slats at the top of the mausoleum.
When Randall started screaming and yelling for them to pull him out, it sounded like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him.
When they pulled him out, they said he was white as a sheet and said they had to tell the sheriff immediately.
Whether the brothers were gone when they made their escape or not, they missed them entirely as they beat a retreat back to town.
The sheriff took some convincing to get him out of bed, but when Randall told him what he had seen down in the crypt, he came with three other men and the biggest set of bolt cutters they could find at the station.
Jamison's sons were leaving when the sheriff and his boys pulled up, so they didn't end up needing the bolt cutters after all.
When he laid it out to the two young men that they could either cooperate or sit in the same prison cell that their father was about to occupy, they decided it might be in their best interest to show him what they'd been doing.
When the sheriff asked the boys if they would need suits, the two shook their heads. "The bees are mostly docile," Hannibal told them, and, sure enough, when they cracked the door, not a one came charging out. They descended into the ground, and by the light of the sheriff's flashlight, they saw the horrors below. The bees swarmed the small pile of corpses, taking whatever they used to make the honey back to the hives. The hives covered the walls of the crypt, making a sticky webwork of combs. The corpses down below were fresh, most of them having died very recently, and the bees were taking to them with gusto. The brothers said they came down once or twice a week to harvest the honey and that the vulture bees were taking to the warm Georgia summers quite nicely.
When the sheriff interrogated them, both said this had been their father's idea. He had read about the vulture bees and thought they sounded like an interesting idea. Then when their mother died, he did a little experiment. He had put her in the mortuary basement and procured some vulture bees of his own. The boys had been horrified when he showed them what he'd been up to, but even they had to admit, the honey had been the sweetest they had ever eaten. Something about the readily available nature of the local pollen, mixed with the bee's instinct to collect whatever they got from the corpses, had made for a potent and delicious treat.
"She was the catalyst for all this," Hannibal had said, "those first few jars he handed out to the people for tasting were honey made from mom's body."
He began to cry then, but the sheriff had all the evidence that he needed to proceed.
He arrested Jamison March that very night, but there seemed to be some confusion on what to charge him with. Couldn't really get him for murder because he hadn't killed anybody. Couldn't really get him for fraud because he buried those bodies just like he said he would. In the end, they got him on simple corpse desecration and misdemeanor fraud for not telling the families what he intended to do with the bodies.
He got less than five years in prison, and I hear that the warden let him keep the beehives in the prison garden.
Seems like his talents didn't go to waste even behind bars.
He left town when his time was served, he and his boys. The funeral home has been empty ever since. The police found the beginnings of his beekeeping in the basement. That, and a secondary hive with a swarm of angry vulture bees. Jamieson tried to sell the mortuary, but nobody seemed to want the place with that sort of reputation. It collapsed under a late February snow back in two thousand twelve, and they destroyed the mortuary they found all those bodies in about a year after Jamison went to prison.
And that's the sorted tale of Jamison March, and his bees.
I have no idea what they did with those bees after they turned them out of the March Mausoleum, they likely just turned them loose into an environment that was alien to them.
So, if you should be traveling through the Georgia back roads and see some larger-than-average bees or taste sweeter than average honey, be very suspicious about its origins.
2023.03.20 15:33 CowardlyFire2 Forget the will he won’t he… why is it not FA rules that any touch on the official is an instantaneous ban…
I dabble in watching a lot of sports. I just don’t get why we allow this to go on
Boxing… you push a ref you’re in big trouble… MMA, you’re likely thrown out your organisation… Tennis… points docked for just dissent… Rugby… it just doesn’t happen because clear rules on approaching the official are in place
Why is football, the worlds biggest sport, selling itself, and it’s officials, so short. There’s a cartoonish shortage of Refs in the EFL, because who would wanna be abused like that…
This Mitrovic (and Bruno too, but it’s too late now) are golden opportunities to usher in a new era of respect for officials with a lengthy ban, and rule changes over Summer
a) Only the Captain and players involved in the incident may approach the to the ref. Failure to comply will result in a yellow. VAR Can administer yellows to any player who approaches without cause if the player misses it (like an F1 time penalty after review). Put it up on the big screen to announce it.
b) Any touch on an official is a red card, under any circumstances. No ‘Bruno was only touching him lightly’ Shenanigans. You touch, you are off. It constitutes a 9 match ban (1/4 a season) and a 3 points docking for the club.
Congratulations, we have now 1) saved a few minutes per match to play more, 2) reduced the issues affecting referee shortages, and 3) helped out the full football pyramid stamp out such behaviour
submitted by CowardlyFire2 to PremierLeague [link] [comments]
Boxing… you push a ref you’re in big trouble… MMA, you’re likely thrown out your organisation… Tennis… points docked for just dissent… Rugby… it just doesn’t happen because clear rules on approaching the official are in place
Why is football, the worlds biggest sport, selling itself, and it’s officials, so short. There’s a cartoonish shortage of Refs in the EFL, because who would wanna be abused like that…
This Mitrovic (and Bruno too, but it’s too late now) are golden opportunities to usher in a new era of respect for officials with a lengthy ban, and rule changes over Summer
a) Only the Captain and players involved in the incident may approach the to the ref. Failure to comply will result in a yellow. VAR Can administer yellows to any player who approaches without cause if the player misses it (like an F1 time penalty after review). Put it up on the big screen to announce it.
b) Any touch on an official is a red card, under any circumstances. No ‘Bruno was only touching him lightly’ Shenanigans. You touch, you are off. It constitutes a 9 match ban (1/4 a season) and a 3 points docking for the club.
Congratulations, we have now 1) saved a few minutes per match to play more, 2) reduced the issues affecting referee shortages, and 3) helped out the full football pyramid stamp out such behaviour
2023.03.20 15:23 firenewsfeed HP Dragonfly Pro review: You better watch your back, Apple
Best Prices Today: HP Dragonfly Pro
Retailer
Price
HP
$1399.99
View Deal
Price comparison from over 24,000 stores worldwide
We’ve all been there—chilling at the local café, minding our own business, when some hip remote worker comes in with a MacBook Pro and starts working away. No judgement from me—I use Macs, Windows PCs, and Linux devices on the regular. But since Apple went with its own custom processors, those machines have proven hard for the PC industry to match. Not only are the latest MacBooks attractive, they boast surprising power and incredible efficiency, too.
That’s why HP partnered with AMD to create the new HP Dragonfly Pro. This slim laptop packs the latest Ryzen processor, with 8 high-performance cores and powerful graphics, to take on the Mac. While you’ll need to decide for yourself if you’d rather have this over a MacBook, we found that this is a computer worth considering.
HP Dragonfly Pro: Specs and features
Our review unit came with the following specifications and features:
CPU: AMD Ryzen 7 7736U (8 core, 16 threads)
Memory: 16 GB LPDDR5 6400 MHz RAM soldered (up to 32 GB available at purchase)
Graphics/GPU: AMD Radeon 680M (12 graphics cores)
Display: 14-inch 1920×1200 16:10 IPS touchscreen, 400 nits
Storage: 512 GB PCIe NVMe solid state drive (soldered)
Webcam: 5MP IR camera
Connectivity: 2x USB 4 Type-C (40 Gbps, Thunderbolt 3 compatible), 1x USB-C 3.2 10 Gbps
Networking: Qualcomm WCN685x with Wi-Fi 6E, Bluetooth 5.2
Biometrics: Windows Hello facial recognition and fingerprint reader
Battery capacity: 86Wh
Dimensions: 12.4 W x 8.7 L x 0.7 H inches
Weight: 3.33 pounds, 3.95 pounds with AC adapter
Price as Reviewed: $1,399
HP Dragonfly Pro:: Design and build quality
HP Dragonfly Pro design
IDG / Brendan Nystedt
If HP was targeting Apple’s quality, I’ve got to hand it to them—the Dragonfly Pro gets close by most measures. This thin laptop feels high quality from the moment you tear off its recycled paper covering. Although you don’t get a lot in the box, you get a high-powered 96 watt power brick and a braided USB-C charging cable. The power brick and laptop both sport the sleek, angular HP logo, which sets them apart from lower-end laptops offered by the company.
The laptop on its own has a nice shape, with high-quality materials like polycarbonate and aluminum used in its construction, some of which are post-consumer recycled. The black color I sampled has a slight fleck to its color, lending it a spacy sheen in the right light. That said, it’s not glossy and the only portions that picked up any fingerprints were on the keycaps and the glass touchpad surface. Underneath, you’ll find a pair of raised rubber strips that slightly raises the angle of the keyboard while giving the cooling vent ample access to air. And, when under load, it’ll need all the air it can get, as the fans spin up and can be easily heard, albeit with a consistent whoosh and not an annoying whine.
For more technology news visit us
submitted by firenewsfeed to u/firenewsfeed [link] [comments]
Retailer
Price
HP
$1399.99
View Deal
Price comparison from over 24,000 stores worldwide
We’ve all been there—chilling at the local café, minding our own business, when some hip remote worker comes in with a MacBook Pro and starts working away. No judgement from me—I use Macs, Windows PCs, and Linux devices on the regular. But since Apple went with its own custom processors, those machines have proven hard for the PC industry to match. Not only are the latest MacBooks attractive, they boast surprising power and incredible efficiency, too.
That’s why HP partnered with AMD to create the new HP Dragonfly Pro. This slim laptop packs the latest Ryzen processor, with 8 high-performance cores and powerful graphics, to take on the Mac. While you’ll need to decide for yourself if you’d rather have this over a MacBook, we found that this is a computer worth considering.
HP Dragonfly Pro: Specs and features
Our review unit came with the following specifications and features:
CPU: AMD Ryzen 7 7736U (8 core, 16 threads)
Memory: 16 GB LPDDR5 6400 MHz RAM soldered (up to 32 GB available at purchase)
Graphics/GPU: AMD Radeon 680M (12 graphics cores)
Display: 14-inch 1920×1200 16:10 IPS touchscreen, 400 nits
Storage: 512 GB PCIe NVMe solid state drive (soldered)
Webcam: 5MP IR camera
Connectivity: 2x USB 4 Type-C (40 Gbps, Thunderbolt 3 compatible), 1x USB-C 3.2 10 Gbps
Networking: Qualcomm WCN685x with Wi-Fi 6E, Bluetooth 5.2
Biometrics: Windows Hello facial recognition and fingerprint reader
Battery capacity: 86Wh
Dimensions: 12.4 W x 8.7 L x 0.7 H inches
Weight: 3.33 pounds, 3.95 pounds with AC adapter
Price as Reviewed: $1,399
HP Dragonfly Pro:: Design and build quality
HP Dragonfly Pro design
IDG / Brendan Nystedt
If HP was targeting Apple’s quality, I’ve got to hand it to them—the Dragonfly Pro gets close by most measures. This thin laptop feels high quality from the moment you tear off its recycled paper covering. Although you don’t get a lot in the box, you get a high-powered 96 watt power brick and a braided USB-C charging cable. The power brick and laptop both sport the sleek, angular HP logo, which sets them apart from lower-end laptops offered by the company.
The laptop on its own has a nice shape, with high-quality materials like polycarbonate and aluminum used in its construction, some of which are post-consumer recycled. The black color I sampled has a slight fleck to its color, lending it a spacy sheen in the right light. That said, it’s not glossy and the only portions that picked up any fingerprints were on the keycaps and the glass touchpad surface. Underneath, you’ll find a pair of raised rubber strips that slightly raises the angle of the keyboard while giving the cooling vent ample access to air. And, when under load, it’ll need all the air it can get, as the fans spin up and can be easily heard, albeit with a consistent whoosh and not an annoying whine.
For more technology news visit us
2023.03.20 15:06 hooberjabber I realize this is beat to death, but this is my idea for my 04 TDI wagon.
I have read so many forums that I may just be oversaturated now, looking for a little clarification. I have a plan to build my work wagon.
New timing belt./ WP. It already has new cam. Straight pipe exhaust. Stage 2 tune with dynamic EGR and room for larger turbo later. Stage 2 clutch eventually. $$$ 1 inch lift, spacer front, springs rear. + 1.5" larger tires. 8mm and 15mm wheel spacers. TT a arm bushings. TT strut mounts. + Factory fogs Light bar behind front grill.( I do alot of back road running at night. )
If anyone has suggestions or condemning comments. Let them fly, I got the car for 1500$ so I have room to build it to wh I'mat I like.
This is a daily commuter and to go down to my cottage 2 hrs away and for side work, so I'll be in it alot and want it to be somewhat fun.
EDIT: Shit. I guess I should have mentioned that the car has been dealer maintained its whole life. I have a huge stack of repairs from the dealer. The reason I got it so cheep was it needed the timing belt done within 50k and the rockers are totally gone. They must have acted as an anode because the rest of the car is freaking mint.
submitted by hooberjabber to tdi [link] [comments]
New timing belt./ WP. It already has new cam. Straight pipe exhaust. Stage 2 tune with dynamic EGR and room for larger turbo later. Stage 2 clutch eventually. $$$ 1 inch lift, spacer front, springs rear. + 1.5" larger tires. 8mm and 15mm wheel spacers. TT a arm bushings. TT strut mounts. + Factory fogs Light bar behind front grill.( I do alot of back road running at night. )
If anyone has suggestions or condemning comments. Let them fly, I got the car for 1500$ so I have room to build it to wh I'mat I like.
This is a daily commuter and to go down to my cottage 2 hrs away and for side work, so I'll be in it alot and want it to be somewhat fun.
EDIT: Shit. I guess I should have mentioned that the car has been dealer maintained its whole life. I have a huge stack of repairs from the dealer. The reason I got it so cheep was it needed the timing belt done within 50k and the rockers are totally gone. They must have acted as an anode because the rest of the car is freaking mint.
2023.03.20 14:48 perfectfootwearguide What Are The Best Basketball Shoes? A Complete Details
 | Lace-up your sneakers and get ready to hit the court because we're about to dive deep into the world of basketball shoes! Whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting, choosing the right pair of kicks can make all the difference in your performance on the court. submitted by perfectfootwearguide to u/perfectfootwearguide [link] [comments] From cushioning and support to traction and style, there are countless factors to consider when selecting basketball shoes. In this post, we'll break down everything you need to know about finding the best basketball shoes for your needs - so let's get started! What are the best basketball shoes? What Are The Best Basketball Shoes?What are the best basketball shoes? This question answers there are a few things that you need to take into account:
Flat basketball shoes offer good ankle stability and flexibility due to their low height. They also tend to be lightweight, making them easier to move around on the court. Low-top basketball shoes were initially designed for players who wanted more protection from injury while playing basketball. Today, players who wish for a more athletic look when playing the sport often use them. Low-tops have a higher profile than flat basketball shoes and feature reinforced toe and heel areas for additional durability. They can also help players improve their foot speed because of their elevated surface area on the ball of the foot. High-top basketball shoes were designed specifically for players with quickness and agility. High tops offer more protection from injury than low tops but less so than flat basketball shoes. They also come with a raised surface area on the ball of the foot, which can provide an advantage when shooting. When choosing basketball shoes, it is essential to consider your style of play and what type of shoe will best help you achieve your goals. Types Of Basketball ShoesYou can choose a few different basketball shoes depending on your playing style. If you're an attacking player who likes to get up and down the court as fast as possible, choose shoes with high ankle support and plenty of traction. Alternatively, if you're more of a defender who wants to stick close to the basket, you might prefer shoes with low ankle support and less traction.Once you have decided which type of basketball shoe is best for you, other factors should be considered, such as material, color, and design. For example, leather shoes are often considered more prestigious than synthetic materials. In contrast, brightly colored shoes can help boost your confidence on the court. Finally, check out the reviews before purchasing to know what other players think about the specific model you're looking at. Why Should You Buy A Specific Type Of Basketball Shoes?Basketball shoes come in many different styles and materials, but what are the best basketball shoes for your specific playing style? To help you choose the right pair of basketball shoes, we've compiled a list of features to look for when purchasing a new pair.When shopping for basketball shoes, it's essential to consider your foot type and size. Basketball is a sport that demands versatility and adaptability from your footwear. While most basketball shoes will work well for most feet, certain types of players will be better served by certain types of shoes. Here are four different categories of basketball shoes and their recommended users: Zone Runners: Zone runners are typically short players with fast feet who need good traction on the court. They should buy a shoe with a hard surface, such as rubber on the bottom, to help them stick to the ground. Playmakers: Playmakers have big feet and need good ankle support to avoid injury. They should buy a shoe with more cushioning to absorb bumps on the court and keep their stride fluid. Pistol shooters: Pistol shooters need a slippery surface to shoot off one foot quickly. They should buy a shoe with synthetic leather or rubber on the bottom so they don't wear out their sneakers as quickly. Three-point Shooters: Three-point shooters need good arch support so they can sink shots The Best Basketball Shoes For Different Types Of PlayersThere are a variety of basketball shoes available on the market today. Some shoes are designed for quick, agile players, while others are more suited for power hitters. Suppose you are still determining which type of player you are. In that case, it's important to consider your playing style before purchasing.If you are a point guard, you should invest in shoes with high ankle support and a grippy rubber outsole. These sneakers will help keep you stable on the court and allow you to make quick decisions on moving the ball. A shoe with good flexibility and cushioning is critical for shooting guards and minor forwards. These players need shoes that can absorb shock when they jump or shoot the ball, so go for models with a lot of flexible materials. For power forwards and center, look for shoes with high arch support to help distribute your weight evenly when jumping. Additionally, choose shoes with durable construction to take lots of wear and tear throughout a game. ConclusionWe have got you covered if you want the best basketball shoes. In this article, we'll discuss what to look for in a good pair of basketball shoes and list some of our favorites. Whether you play in indoor or outdoor court conditions, we've got the perfect shoe for you. So whether your goal is to improve your game or stay healthy and stylish while playing hoops, check out our selection!FAQsHere are some questions and answers to help for choosing the best basketball shoes:Can You Wear Basketball Shoes Casually?Basketball shoes can be worn casually, but they should always be cleaned and inspected before each use. Wearing basketball shoes that are not clean or in good condition can cause injury. Always ensure your basketball shoes are correctly fitted and supportive before wearing them.How to Break in Basketball Shoes?The first thing you need to do when breaking in new basketball shoes is to wear them for some time and gradually increase the amount of time you wear them. Doing this will help your boots become more flexible and fit better.Another critical step is avoiding extreme force when playing in your new shoes. Doing this will help prevent any damage or discomfort to your feet. Finally, clean your new shoes periodically with mild soap and water. |
2023.03.20 14:36 STLhistoryBuff Weekly Events Thread 3/20/23 - 3/26/23
Please, feel free to add any events below! Check out the Visitor's Guide for more things to do around town!
Looking to meet up with people? Check out Meetup St. Louis.
Be sure to continue scrolling past the Weekly Events for Trivia Nights, Live Music, Sporting Events, Local Comedy, and more!
Weekly Events
submitted by STLhistoryBuff to StLouis [link] [comments]
Looking to meet up with people? Check out Meetup St. Louis.
Be sure to continue scrolling past the Weekly Events for Trivia Nights, Live Music, Sporting Events, Local Comedy, and more!
Weekly Events
- African Film Festival (17th Annual)
- March 24 - 26, 2023
- The 17th annual African Film Festival invites St. Louisans to see Africa’s most acclaimed films on the big screen. This year’s showcase includes six films and a youth matinee. Animation, courtroom drama, thriller and a romantic drama anchor this year's festival.
- American Cup (Chess)
- March 17 - 26, 2023
- The Saint Louis Chess Club is proud to present the American Cup, featuring a rare and exciting double-elimination format. The tournament will bring world-class chess masters to America’s chess capital to compete in a fierce struggle for $300,000 in prize money.
- B.A.R.K. Ranger Photo Contest at The Arch
- Running until April 21, 2023
- To enter, come down to the Arch grounds and snap a photo of your dog in front of the Gateway Arch or the Old Courthouse. Photo submissions may be sent to [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) until Friday, April 21, and voting will take place on our Facebook page after submissions close.
- The winner will then get to lead a dog walk through the park as part of the park’s B.A.R.K. Ranger Day during National Park Week.
- Bellefontaine in Bloom
- Spring 2023
- Join others for a brisk spring walk through Bellefontaine Cemetery and Arboretum! In the months of March, April, and May, Bellefontaine offers a two-hour walking tour of the cemetery and arboretum. This 2-hour walk will be led by one of their Master Guides who will convey highlights of the cemetery grounds, horticulture, and a variety of intriguing figures who call Bellefontaine their last address. Particular attention will be paid to the Horticulture side of the cemetery while in different levels of bloom during these spring tours.
- Family Night with Fredbird
- Wednesdays
- Join others at Cardinals Nation Restaurant & Bar for Family Night with Fredbird on select Wednesday evenings this off-season! Bring your family down for games, prizes, and meet Fredbird from 6:30-7:30pm.
- Ferguson Farmers’ Market
- Every Saturday
- Enjoy live music and special events in a festive family atmosphere, and discover a wide variety of edible delights, including homemade jelly, farm fresh eggs, honey, spices, and meats. You’ll also find an ever-changing array of gift and specialty vendors, selling everything from cut flowers and bedding plants to hand-painted artwork and small-batch soaps.
- If it’s homemade, handmade or fresh and tasty, you can buy it at the Ferguson Farmers’ Market.
- Hermann Wurstfest
- March 25 - 26, 2023
- “The Wurstfest in the Midwest – a Celebration of All Things Sausage!” Professional meat processors attend from all over Missouri, with samples and products for sale. Professional and amateur sausage-making competition, Kraut making class, Volksmarch, German dancing and music.
- Karaoke Wednesdays at HandleBar
- Every Wednesday
- Browse the catalog and find your favorite songs to sing! Songbookslive.com/stlredcarpet
- Karaoke Wednesdays at Mack's Bar & Grill
- Every Wednesday
- Landmarks Downtown Walking Tours
- Every Saturday
- Landmarks Downtown St. Louis Walking Tours: History, Culture, Architecture, and Exercise: What could be better on a Saturday morning?
- Monday Night Raw at Enterprise Center
- March 20, 2023
- WWE Monday Night Raw comes to Enterprise Center.
- Open Mic Night at Schlafly Bottleworks (Maplewood)
- Every Wednesday
- Join others every Wednesday evening and showcase your talents with our Open Mic Night! Open sign up begins at 6:30PM with music starting at 7:00PM. They welcome original material, covers and spoken word! Grab a beer, then play and listen every Wednesday! There are no cover charges and no drink minimums to attend.
- Schlafly Stout & Oyster Festival
- March 24 - 25, 2023
- Beer, shuckers and more than 80,000 oysters converge on St. Louis for the Schlafly Stout & Oyster Festival.
- It’s the largest festival of its kind in the Midwest – and one that you shouldn’t miss! Head to the Schlafly Tap Room on March 24 and 25, when 20 professional shuckers promise to put on a show. There will be more than 10 stouts on tap to pair with your oysters and live music in the background.
- Soulard Farmer's Market
- Wednesdays - Saturdays
- Soulard Farmers Market is located at 730 Carroll Street in St. Louis, Missouri, a half mile north of the Anheuser-Busch Brewery. The market is open Wednesday through Saturday, year round. They feature locally grown and shipped in goods, including: produce, meats, cheeses, spices, gourmet kettle corn, flowers, baked goods, and general merchandise. There are also several different eateries that have many food options, which allows customers the convenience to grab a quick bite to eat and a drink while shopping.
- Sqwires Fish Fry Friday
- Fridays (until April 7th)
- Fried Cod, Baked Cod, Fried Shrimp, Whipped Potatoes, Sauteed Green Beans, Creamy Slaw, Dinner Roll, Clam Chowder, Pie & Cookies
- Taco & Margarita Festival at Chaifetz Arena
- March 25, 2023
- The Taco & Margarita Festival will also feature a taco-eating contest, a hot chile pepper-eating contest, live professional wrestling, local shopping and more.
- Thursday Nights at the Museum
- Every Thursday
- Kick off your weekend at the Missouri History Museum in Forest Park! Each Thursday Night at the Museum will be the most fun, engaging, uplifting, thought-provoking, perspective-shaping night of your week. And there are drinks.
- Join us starting at 5:30pm for happy hour and pop-up activities, such as brief tours, games, and performances. The main stage comes to life at 6:30pm, light appetizers and drinks are available for purchase until 7:00pm, and the Museum’s exhibits are open until 8:00pm for you to explore!
- Tootsie at The Fabulous Fox Theatre
- March 21 - April 2, 2023
- This laugh-out-loud love letter to the theater tells the story of Michael Dorsey, a talented but difficult actor who struggles to find work until one show-stopping act of desperation lands him the role of a lifetime.
| Trivia Nights | ||
|---|---|---|
| Location | Date/Time | More Information |
| Bar K | Tuesdays at 7:00 pm | |
| City Foundry | Thursdays 7:00 pm - 9:00 pm | |
| Joey B's on the Hill | Mondays 8:30 pm - 10:30 pm | Trivia Details |
| Nick's Pub | Mondays | |
| Felix's Pizza Pub | Tuesdays at 8:00 pm | Trivia Details |
| Schlafly Brewpubs (Any Location) | Tuesdays 7:00 pm - 9:00 pm | Trivia Details |
| Rockwell Beer Co | Tuesdays | Trivia Details (Reservations required) |
| The Mack | Tuesdays at 8:00 pm | Trivia Details |
| The Pat Connolly Tavern | Wednesdays at 7:00 pm | |
| The Post | Wednesdays 8:00 pm - 10:00 pm | Trivia Details |
| Pieces Board Game Bar & Cafe | Wednesdays | Trivia Details |
| HandleBar | Thursdays at 7:00 pm - 9:00 pm | Trivia Details |
| Steve's Hot Dogs | Tuesdays 7:30 pm - 9:30 pm | Trivia Details |
| Recurring Outdoor Activities | |
|---|---|
| Big Muddy Adventures – STL Riverfront Adventure | Big Muddy Adventures was established in 2002. They are the first professional outfitteguiding company providing access to the wild wonders of the Middle Mississippi and Lower Missouri Rivers. |
| Gateway Arch Events | There are a variety of things to do along the Mississippi River. |
| Hidden Valley Ski Resort | Ziplining, scenic chairlift rides, and hiking trails opened during the summer. Skiing, snowboarding during the winter. |
2023.03.20 14:32 ZandrickEllison [OC] Last season, our "Best Bet" series nailed a 25:1 long shot awards pick. It may hit on a 25:1 long shot once again (fingers crossed)
In the previous offseason, we started a "BEST BET" series that attempted to gauge the best values among season-long awards like MVP and Rookie of the Year.
Those are risky, speculative picks that take a long time to pay off, but that first series worked out overall. While we only hit on 1/6 on our picks, that lone winner (Tyler Herro for Sixth Man of the Year) represented a 25:1 longshot. If you had placed $100 on each bet, you'd have walked away with a tidy $2,000 profit.
We tried our luck again this year. This time, we sprinkled the money around on different candidates in order to diversify our portfolio. Even still, we just needed 1 of them to hit again to make our money back.
Will lightning strike twice? It just might.
We'll review each in ascending order: from our bad picks, to our close calls, to our probable winner.
Note: if you're unfamiliar with the terms, a betting + number represents your profit on a $100 bet. +100 means an even money bet, +600 would mean a 6:1 chance of winning, and +6000 means 60:1.
preseason picks
The "Most Improved" award is always confusing -- made no clearer by them naming it after George Mikan (who averaged 28.3 PPG right out of the gates as a rookie). Given that uncertainty, we divided our money on potential breakouts Devin Vassell (+6000), Cam Johnson (+5000), Jalen Green (+2500), and Alperen Sengun (+4000).
current outlook
We misjudged the market here. Historically, the award has gone to lesser-known players, but recent trends have veered to already-good players who took it up another level. Current favorites Lauri Makkanen and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander would follow the template set by recent winners like Julius Randle and Ja Morant. In the future, we need to adjust our strategy and go for players with a higher starting bar.
DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR
preseason picks
We picked Rudy Gobert (+400) and Ben Simmons (+2500), figuring they would have some narrative value if they led their teams to a defensive turnaround.
current outlook
Sure enough, they did have some narrative value -- but unfortunately it was the wrong type of narrative. In their wake, the current landscape suggests a two-man race. Brook Lopez and Jaren Jackson Jr. are the two favorites. Notably, both Memphis and Milwaukee are in the top 3 in team defense. That's always been a key part of the criteria for the award.
SIXTH MAN of the YEAR
preseason picks
Historically, this award tends to go to high-scoring, jack-'em-up shooting guards. Knowing that, we went for two upside fliers who fit that bill: Tim Hardaway Jr. (+7000) and Malik Monk (+8000). Both appeared to have the potential to score 15+ PPG, which tended to be the mark you'd need to hit to contend for the award.
current outlook
Our logic to target scoring guards made sense, but neither Hardaway (14.2 PPG) nor Malik Monk (13.7 PPG) made enough waves nationally to garner much attention. Instead, it's become a two man race between two other scoring guards: Malcolm Brogdon and Immanuel Quickley.
preseason picks
After an early injury to Chet Holmgren, who knew that Paolo Banchero would be the most likely winner. So did Vegas. They listed him at +180 in the preseason, one of the biggest awards favorites. Looking for more upside, we bet on two wings in Bennedict Mathurin (+900) and Jalen Williams (+2500). Our logic was that they were polished rookies who may be more ready to hit the ground running than their one-and-done counterparts.
current outlook
Our two longshot picks are actually the # 2 and # 3 favorite to win at the moment, but they're miles behind Paolo Banchero. Chances are, we're going to have to settle for a runners-up trophy (which is valued at $0.)
MVP
preseason pick
In the preseason, bettors tend to gravitate to a new winner and new storyline. To that end, Luka Doncic has been listed as the preseason favorite to win MVP for three years in a row. However, the idea of "voter fatigue" is somewhat overrated if you look at historical trends. For that reason, we eyed Nikola Jokic (+1000) and settled on Giannis Antetokounmpo (+700). We also thought that Antetokounmpo may be well positioned for a statistical boost given the initial absence of Khris Middleton.
current outlook
Our argument regarding voter fatigue appeared correct at first -- as Jokic and Antetokounmpo looked like they'd finish 1-2. However, Jokic's campaign has taken some damage lately for a variety of reasons; voter fatigue has presumably played at least a partial role in that. Time will tell whether Jokic can withstand the heat, or whether Joel Embiid will win on another buzzer beater.
preseason pick
For most entries we spread our money around, but for this we put all our hypothetical eggs in the basket of Mike Brown (+2500). Our logic was that the Sacramento Kings had an underrated roster and would clear their preseason oveunder of 33.5. If they could push that up to 40-45 wins and sneak into the playoffs for the first time in 17 years, it'd also add an excellent narrative.
current outlook
Turns out, Mike Brown's turnaround of the Kings was even more pronounced than we expected and has made him a clear favorite at the moment (-250). Hopefully, he can hold on to that momentum and allow us to cash in our second 25:1 longshot. While going 1/6 on awards doesn't sound that great, hitting on that big money (+2500) means you'd have made $2,000 profit if you bet $100 on each.
Hitting on a 25:1 longshot every year isn't a sustainable goal, but hopefully we can continue to study the trends and make smarter picks in all categories in the coming years.
submitted by ZandrickEllison to nba [link] [comments]
Those are risky, speculative picks that take a long time to pay off, but that first series worked out overall. While we only hit on 1/6 on our picks, that lone winner (Tyler Herro for Sixth Man of the Year) represented a 25:1 longshot. If you had placed $100 on each bet, you'd have walked away with a tidy $2,000 profit.
We tried our luck again this year. This time, we sprinkled the money around on different candidates in order to diversify our portfolio. Even still, we just needed 1 of them to hit again to make our money back.
Will lightning strike twice? It just might.
We'll review each in ascending order: from our bad picks, to our close calls, to our probable winner.
Note: if you're unfamiliar with the terms, a betting + number represents your profit on a $100 bet. +100 means an even money bet, +600 would mean a 6:1 chance of winning, and +6000 means 60:1.
BAD PICKS
MOST IMPROVEDpreseason picks
The "Most Improved" award is always confusing -- made no clearer by them naming it after George Mikan (who averaged 28.3 PPG right out of the gates as a rookie). Given that uncertainty, we divided our money on potential breakouts Devin Vassell (+6000), Cam Johnson (+5000), Jalen Green (+2500), and Alperen Sengun (+4000).
current outlook
We misjudged the market here. Historically, the award has gone to lesser-known players, but recent trends have veered to already-good players who took it up another level. Current favorites Lauri Makkanen and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander would follow the template set by recent winners like Julius Randle and Ja Morant. In the future, we need to adjust our strategy and go for players with a higher starting bar.
preseason picks
We picked Rudy Gobert (+400) and Ben Simmons (+2500), figuring they would have some narrative value if they led their teams to a defensive turnaround.
current outlook
Sure enough, they did have some narrative value -- but unfortunately it was the wrong type of narrative. In their wake, the current landscape suggests a two-man race. Brook Lopez and Jaren Jackson Jr. are the two favorites. Notably, both Memphis and Milwaukee are in the top 3 in team defense. That's always been a key part of the criteria for the award.
preseason picks
Historically, this award tends to go to high-scoring, jack-'em-up shooting guards. Knowing that, we went for two upside fliers who fit that bill: Tim Hardaway Jr. (+7000) and Malik Monk (+8000). Both appeared to have the potential to score 15+ PPG, which tended to be the mark you'd need to hit to contend for the award.
current outlook
Our logic to target scoring guards made sense, but neither Hardaway (14.2 PPG) nor Malik Monk (13.7 PPG) made enough waves nationally to garner much attention. Instead, it's become a two man race between two other scoring guards: Malcolm Brogdon and Immanuel Quickley.
CLOSE BUT NO CIGAR
ROOKIE OF THE YEARpreseason picks
After an early injury to Chet Holmgren, who knew that Paolo Banchero would be the most likely winner. So did Vegas. They listed him at +180 in the preseason, one of the biggest awards favorites. Looking for more upside, we bet on two wings in Bennedict Mathurin (+900) and Jalen Williams (+2500). Our logic was that they were polished rookies who may be more ready to hit the ground running than their one-and-done counterparts.
current outlook
Our two longshot picks are actually the # 2 and # 3 favorite to win at the moment, but they're miles behind Paolo Banchero. Chances are, we're going to have to settle for a runners-up trophy (which is valued at $0.)
preseason pick
In the preseason, bettors tend to gravitate to a new winner and new storyline. To that end, Luka Doncic has been listed as the preseason favorite to win MVP for three years in a row. However, the idea of "voter fatigue" is somewhat overrated if you look at historical trends. For that reason, we eyed Nikola Jokic (+1000) and settled on Giannis Antetokounmpo (+700). We also thought that Antetokounmpo may be well positioned for a statistical boost given the initial absence of Khris Middleton.
current outlook
Our argument regarding voter fatigue appeared correct at first -- as Jokic and Antetokounmpo looked like they'd finish 1-2. However, Jokic's campaign has taken some damage lately for a variety of reasons; voter fatigue has presumably played at least a partial role in that. Time will tell whether Jokic can withstand the heat, or whether Joel Embiid will win on another buzzer beater.
OUR BEST BET
COACH OF THE YEARpreseason pick
For most entries we spread our money around, but for this we put all our hypothetical eggs in the basket of Mike Brown (+2500). Our logic was that the Sacramento Kings had an underrated roster and would clear their preseason oveunder of 33.5. If they could push that up to 40-45 wins and sneak into the playoffs for the first time in 17 years, it'd also add an excellent narrative.
current outlook
Turns out, Mike Brown's turnaround of the Kings was even more pronounced than we expected and has made him a clear favorite at the moment (-250). Hopefully, he can hold on to that momentum and allow us to cash in our second 25:1 longshot. While going 1/6 on awards doesn't sound that great, hitting on that big money (+2500) means you'd have made $2,000 profit if you bet $100 on each.
Hitting on a 25:1 longshot every year isn't a sustainable goal, but hopefully we can continue to study the trends and make smarter picks in all categories in the coming years.
2023.03.20 14:32 iwaspoisoned-com Airports - Kahului, Hawaii - On March 13 around 12:45 pm we stopped at thi restaurant at Kahului Airport Maui HI and 4 of us ordered two Beach Nachos with Kalua Pork before our flight to Kona. By the time we collected our bags in Kona around and head... #airports #pork
 | On March 13 around 12:45 pm we stopped at thi restaurant at Kahului Airport Maui HI and 4 of us ordered two Beach Nachos with Kalua Pork before our flight to Kona. By the time we collected our bags in Kona around and headed home around 5pm 2 of us had nausea. Around 8pm two of us had chills, vomiting, weakness, head and body ache as well as diarrhea. The 3rd of us had developed stomach pain and discomfort. Around 8am the last of us had developed chills, vomiting, weakness, head and body ache as well as diarrhea. By noon one of us has recovered, the other three still have symptoms of nausea and weakness. submitted by iwaspoisoned-com to iwaspoisoned [link] [comments] Read full report here |