Outside stair railing iowa

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Looking to enhance your 1911 revolver's performance and accuracy? Look no further than our roundup of the top compensators available on the market. In this article, we'll introduce you to the best-rated compensators for the classic 1911, providing you with the information you need to make an informed decision.

The Top 13 Best 1911 Compensator

1. Comfortable 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster for Optimal Concealed Carry - Experience unparalleled comfort and superior concealment with the C&G Holsters Covert IWB 1911 holster, expertly designed by Veterans and Law Enforcement in America.
2. Precision Competitive Holster for 1911 4.25'' - Kydex, Aluminum, Adjustable - The Pro Ball Joint Competition Holster transforms your 1911 4.25'' into a precision and performance-driven shooting tool, with adjustable ride height, aluminum ball joint, Kydex shell, and optic compatibility for an unmatched competitive edge.
3. Speed Master 2.0 Leather Chest Holster for 1911 Pistols - The Speed Master 2.0 is a versatile leather chest holster for 1911 pistols and DA revolvers, featuring an open top design, adjustable tension unit, and convenient paddle or belt slot attachments for a custom carry experience.
4. Premium Western 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster - Experience ultimate comfort, versatility, and durability with the Galco Royal Guard 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster, designed for real-world concealment and perfect for semiautomatic guns and double-action revolvers.
5. Durable Tactical 1911 Compensator for Enhanced Performance - The BCMGunfighter Compensator Mod 7 - 5.56 is engineered for tactical purposes, providing effective muzzle rise reduction, flash suppression, noise dampening, and side pressure control, making it a top choice for serious shooters.
6. Hybrid Titanium Compensator for 1911 Pistol - Enhance your 1911 handgun's performance with the EGW Hybrid Titanium Compensator, perfect for Steel Challenge and Bianchi Cup competitions, featuring reduced loads and seamless integration into international orders.
7. Premium 1911 Inside Waistband Holster - The Vedder Holsters 1911 w/out Rail 4.25" RapidTuck holster, designed for Colt Commander frames, offers a comfortable IWB carry with premium leather and molded Kydex, perfect for various carry positions and proudly made in the USA.
8. Speed Master 2.0 5in 1911 Concealed Holster with Paddle and Belt Options - The Galco SM2212RB Speed Master 2.0 holster offers versatility and customization with its adjustable belt slot and paddle attachment methods, providing a perfect carry solution for 1911 Compensator users.
9. Universal Single Mag Holder for 1911 Compensators - Experience unbeatable durability and custom-fit retention with the C&G Universal Single Mag Holder, expertly crafted by veteran & law enforcement professionals for optimal 1911 compatibility.
10. Stainless Steel 1911 Gun Compensator - Experience minimal side blast and noise with Bravo's BCMGunfighter Compensator Mod 0, a stainless steel 7.62mm AR10 accessory that ensures maximum recoil mitigation, muzzle-rise compensation, and flash reduction.
11. Premium Independence Leather 1911 Holster with Reinforced Belt Loop - The Independence leather holster is a premium 1911 5" Government with Rail Only OWB holster, offering maximum protection, comfort, and ease of use for your firearm.
12. Galco TacSlide Belt Holster for 1911 Compensator: Fast, Concealable, Economical - Experience seamless concealment and swift draws with the Galco Tac Slide Belt Holster for your Colt Kimber Para 1911 5" - the perfect blend of steerhide and Kydex for unbeatable durability and comfort.
13. CNC 7-Port 5-Chamber Comp Cone for 1911 Handguns - The EGW 11830 CNC 7-Port 5-Chamber Comp Cone is a high-quality compensator made from heat-treated stress-proof Carbon Steel, perfect for use with standard-length barrels and custom hybrid or bull barrels with the proper threading.

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Reviews

🔗Comfortable 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster for Optimal Concealed Carry

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Over the past few months, I've had the opportunity to try out C&G's Inside the Waistband Covert holster for my 1911. The first thing that struck me was how well-designed and comfortable it was. As someone who carries most of the day, the last thing I want is my holster to be uncomfortable or distracting.
One of the standout features was the solid locking retention. It gave me peace of mind, knowing my firearm was secure when I was on the move. The holster was also designed to fit most RMRed Dots on the market, which was a nice touch.
However, there were a couple of cons I noticed. First, the open bottom allowed for threaded barrels and compensators, but it could be a bit challenging to get a perfect fit for my specific firearm. Secondly, the 1.5-inch belt clip could be a bit snug for my thicker belt.
Overall, my experience with C&G's Covert holster has been mostly positive. The holster offers a comfortable and secure fit, and the craftsmanship is top-notch. While there were a few minor drawbacks, the pros definitely outweigh the cons.

🔗Precision Competitive Holster for 1911 4.25'' - Kydex, Aluminum, Adjustable

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As a shooting enthusiast, I recently came across the 1911 4.25'' No Rail Pro Ball Joint Competition Holster, and I must say, it has greatly enhanced my experience. Its adjustable ride height, which allows me to fine-tune my grip, is a game-changer.
The aluminum ball joint provides a smooth, sturdy connection that ensures a reliable hold, while the Kydex shell offers a perfect fit. Plus, the optic compatibility adds a touch of convenience. However, I also noticed that the holster can be quite heavy, which might affect my mobility during competitions.
Overall, this holster has proven to be a valuable investment for any serious shooter.

🔗Speed Master 2.0 Leather Chest Holster for 1911 Pistols

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I had the pleasure of trying out the Galco SM2212R Speed Master 2.0 1911 5in Tan, and I must say, it's a fantastic choice for gun enthusiasts. This versatile holster offers a sleek design and comes in both paddle and belt slot configurations, ensuring you can choose the carry method that suits your needs best.
One of the standout features of this holster is the high-quality premium steerhide construction. The build feels sturdy and reliable, giving me confidence in its performance. The adjustable tension unit is a convenient feature that allowed me to customize the holster's grip, ensuring my firearm stayed securely in place.
However, there were a couple of downsides I encountered during my experience. The slight butt-forward or neutral cant can vary depending on the firearm, which might not be ideal for everyone. Additionally, the holster might not fit as snugly as desired on larger pistol barrels.
Despite these minor drawbacks, the Galco SM2212R Speed Master 2.0 is an impressive and versatile holster that provides excellent concealment and security. If you're in the market for a high-quality and customizable 1911 holster, this might just be the right fit for you.

🔗Premium Western 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster

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I recently had the chance to try the Galco Royal Guard 1911 Inside-the-Waistband Holster Black - a sleek and versatile option for gun owners. This holster boasts an innovative design that keeps your weapon secure while still ensuring that you have easy access to it when you need it most. I particularly appreciated the rough side of the leather facing out, providing great stability and protection for your gun.
Wearing the Galco Royal Guard was a comfortable experience, allowing for real-world concealment even of larger defensive guns. The smooth leather pocket was reinforced for sturdiness, and it granted unrestricted movement and easy reholstering. In my opinion, the combat grip accessibility rounded out this holster's utility to make it an invaluable choice for those seeking speed and agility.
A few aspects of the Galco Royal Guard could use some improvement, but overall, I was impressed with the product. Its premium natural color horsehide constructed to fit 1-3/4" belts was a definite plus. And for those with 1-1/4" belts, there's an optional belt channel to consider. While there is still room for improvement, the Royal Guard holds promise as a reliable choice for any gun enthusiast.

🔗Durable Tactical 1911 Compensator for Enhanced Performance

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I recently added the BCMGUNFIGHTER Compensator Mod 7 - 5.56 to my trusty 1911 setup, and let me tell you, it's been a game-changer for my tactical operations. This ain't no lightweight accessory, it's a solid piece of machinery that reduces muzzle rise and flash to a minimum, making my targets all the more accurate.
It's also helped keep things nice and quiet during reconnaissance missions, and the lateral force it counteracts has been a lifesaver when I gotta take quick shots on the go. Sure, it might be a bit of a heavy-hitter compared to some other comps out there, but the benefits I've experienced have made it a more than worthy addition to my arsenal. So, if you're looking for a versatile compensator for your tactical ops, this bad boy deserves a serious look.

🔗Hybrid Titanium Compensator for 1911 Pistol

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The EGW Hybrid Titanium Compensator 575 x 40 is a sleek and sturdy addition to any 1911 firearm. I've been using it in my daily training sessions, and it's performed exceptionally well. The titanium construction not only adds durability but also keeps the weight down, making it a perfect choice for those who value portability.
One highlight of this compensator is its ability to reduce recoil significantly, which is especially useful for those newer to the sport or for those looking for a smoother shooting experience. This feature, combined with its robust design, has proven to improve the overall performance of my handgun.
However, there were a couple of drawbacks to this product. Firstly, the international shipping restrictions can be a hassle for those living outside the US. And secondly, the lack of an extensive review history makes it challenging to gauge the overall user satisfaction with this product.
Overall, the EGW Hybrid Titanium Compensator 575 x 40 is a high-quality accessory for 1911 firearms with a unique titanium construction that reduces recoil. While there are a few drawbacks to consider, the pros outweigh the cons, making it a worthy addition to many shooters' kits.

🔗Premium 1911 Inside Waistband Holster

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I recently had the chance to try out the Vedder Holsters 1911 w/out rail 4.25" (Colt Commander frameNOT SIG) RapidTuck, an inside the waistband (IWB) hybrid holster that's handcrafted with premium leather and molded Kydex. The moment I started using it, I was struck by the attention to detail and the perfect fit for my 1911 w/without rail 4.25" Colt Commander frame.
One of the key features that stood out to me was the comfort of the holster. The leather is soft and well-finished, making it comfortable even for extended periods of wear. Whether you carry in the 3 o'clock position, appendix carry, or cross draw, the RapidTuck offers various carry options that are both comfortable and secure.
Another great aspect of the holster is the custom Kydex shell, which is molded to fit your firearm perfectly. This ensures proper clearance with all front sights and loaded chamber indicators, providing peace of mind even in the harshest conditions. The included Rock Solid Spring Steel Clip is a nice touch, offering two belt accommodations and a tuckable design for deep concealment.
While I enjoyed using this holster, there were a couple of minor drawbacks that I noticed. Firstly, the adjustable ride height feature is a bit more challenging to use than some other holsters on the market. Secondly, the limited color options might not appeal to everyone looking for a personalized touch. Despite these small drawbacks, the overall quality and performance of the 1911 w/out rail 4.25" (Colt Commander frameNOT SIG) RapidTuck make it a solid choice for anyone in the market for an IWB hybrid holster.

🔗Speed Master 2.0 5in 1911 Concealed Holster with Paddle and Belt Options

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I recently gave the Galco SM2212RB Speed Master 2.0 a try for my 1911 pistol. It impressed me with its ability to quickly switch between a paddle and belt holster, which is perfect for my lifestyle. The open-top design allows me to draw my pistol faster, while the covered trigger ensures added safety.
The steerhide material feels premium and holds a good grip on the pistol. However, I noticed that the holster might be a bit snug for larger belts, but overall, the Speed Master 2.0 is a versatile and dependable choice for concealed carry.

🔗Universal Single Mag Holder for 1911 Compensators

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Imagine this: after a long day at the range or simply enjoying your time at home, you're done with holstering and retrieving your magazines. You reach for your trusty mag holder - a solid, reliable, and convenient accessory that's been your reliable companion for months. But suddenly, it's gone. You need a new one. Fast. Enter C&G's Universal single mag holder.
This is the kind of mag holder that makes you say, "I never knew I needed this until now! " It's a game-changer, designed to hold your magazines in place, making your life easier and hassle-free. The C&G's Universal single mag holder is made with high-quality materials, ensuring it lasts long, stays sturdy, and remains a reliable tool in your arsenal.
The Universal aspect of this product is a testament to its versatility, as it fits almost all pistols or mags. And let's talk about the fit - it's made for a purpose and designed to ensure that your magazines stay where they should. No more fumbling or worrying about your magazines falling out when you need them most.
But what about the looks? Well, let's just say it's not an eyesore. It manages to blend form and function, seamlessly becoming a part of your daily arsenal. The fact that it's made in America by the best professionals in the field is a cherry on top.
However, like any other product, it does have a small downside. The clip might take some getting used to, as it's a little bigger and wider than what most users would prefer. But it's a small cost to pay for a product that performs so magnificently.
In conclusion, the C&G's Universal single mag holder is a top-notch product that delivers on its promises. It's a reliable and efficient accessory that makes holstering and retrieving your magazines a breeze. It might have a minor issue with the clip size, but overall, it's a must-have for anyone who wants to ensure their magazines stay secure and easily accessible.

🔗Stainless Steel 1911 Gun Compensator

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I recently had the chance to try out the BCM Gunfighter Comp Mod1 762 5/8x24 in a few shooting sessions, and let me tell you, it was quite an experience. One of the most impressive features of this compensator is its stainless steel construction. Don't get me wrong, I'm no gunsmith, but I could tell that the quality was top-notch. It just felt solid and well-built in my hands.
During my time with the Gunfighter, I noticed that it really reduced the muzzle rise and the noise associated with typical comps. It was like shooting a silenced revolver, which made it a joy to use, especially during team CQB drills. The inclusion of a crush washer was another plus, as it made the installation process a breeze.
However, there were a couple of things that I wasn't completely thrilled about. First, it was a bit heavier than some other compensators I've used, which made it a bit unwieldy in certain situations. But overall, the benefits outweighed the drawbacks, and I found myself reaching for it on my next few range trips.
So, in conclusion, if you're looking for a well-built, noisy, and muzzle rise-reducing compensator, the BCM Gunfighter Comp Mod1 762 5/8x24 is definitely worth checking out.

🔗Premium Independence Leather 1911 Holster with Reinforced Belt Loop

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The Independence holster is a beautifully crafted leather masterpiece, with a proprietary design and attention to detail that sets it apart in the crowded gun holster market. The 8 oz premium leather feels soft and durable against your firearm, providing a sense of comfort and assurance as you carry your 1911 5" Government.
What I love most about this OWB holster is the reinforced belt loop design, which allows for effortless on and off placement. No more fumbling with clips or loops; this holster's custom tailoring ensures perfect fit, maximized retention, and minimal printing for a comfortable carry experience.
One area where it could use improvement is the compatibility with different firearm sights, particularly those with sharp edges that can catch on the leather when drawing. But overall, the Independence holster is a top-notch leather choice for your favorite 1911.

🔗Galco TacSlide Belt Holster for 1911 Compensator: Fast, Concealable, Economical

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As a gun enthusiast, I recently had the chance to try out the Galco Tac Slide Belt Holster for my Colt Kimber Para 1911 5" Black RH TS212B. First and foremost, the design of this holster is quite impressive, with its combination of steerhide and Kydex materials, which provides both durability and comfort in one package. The adjustable belt slots make it easy to wear and also allow for excellent concealment, even with larger frames.
One of the standout features of this holster is the open top and neutral cant, which make the draw incredibly smooth and efficient, even when wearing heavier pants or jackets. This is a crucial aspect for those who need to access their weapon quickly and discreetly.
However, the Tac Slide does have its drawbacks. For one, the holster itself is quite bulky, which can be a disadvantage for those who prefer a more minimalistic design. Additionally, while the steerhide back plate is comfortable, it can be a bit fussy when trying to reholster the firearm, particularly if the holster is not set up properly.
Overall, despite these minor drawbacks, I found the Galco Tac Slide Belt Holster to be a reliable and functional option for concealing and carrying my Colt Kimber Para 1911. It's a versatile option that works well with both semi-autos and double-action revolvers, making it a solid choice for gun owners looking for a convenient and secure way to carry their weapon.

🔗CNC 7-Port 5-Chamber Comp Cone for 1911 Handguns

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I've had the chance to use the EGW 11830 CNC 7-Port 5-Chamber Comp Cone in my 1911 pistol, and I must say it's made quite a difference in its performance. It's built with heat-treated, stress-proof Carbon Steel, which adds to its durability and reliability. One of the most noticeable things about this cone is its unique 10-degree angle, designed to control muzzle flip and keep the gun steady even during intense shooting sessions.
However, one downside I noticed was that installing it required a bit of extra effort, as it required a reverse plug due to its lack of a bushing to hold the recoil spring. Nonetheless, once in place, it lined up perfectly with the barrel bore and provided a smooth, precise shooting experience.

Buyer's Guide

The 1911 Compensator is a vital accessory for 1911-series firearms. It aims to reduce recoil and muzzle rise while enhancing accuracy. This buyer's guide will provide you with essential information, recommendations, and considerations to help you choose the right 1911 compensator for your needs.

Materials

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When selecting a 1911 compensator, consider the materials used in its construction. High-quality compensators are usually made from durable materials like stainless steel, titanium, or brass. These materials provide long-lasting performance and better heat dissipation, which can improve accuracy.

Size and Weight

The size and weight of a 1911 compensator are crucial factors in determining its compatibility with your firearm. Ensure the compensator's dimensions match those of your barrel and that its weight balance is appropriate for your shooting style and preferences. A well-balanced compensator can improve recoil management and control.

Design

The design of a 1911 compensator influences its effectiveness in recoil reduction and muzzle rise compensation. Popular designs include compensators with multiple ports or a single, large port for better performance at various distances. Consider the design that best suits your shooting requirements and preferred shooting distances.
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Ease of Installation

Installing a 1911 compensator should be a straightforward process. Choose a compensator with user-friendly installation methods, such as simple screw-in designs or those requiring minimal gunsmith work. This will save you time and money in the long run, allowing you to focus on maximizing the benefits of your new compensator.

Budget

1911 compensators come in different price ranges. Consider your budget when selecting a compensator, but remember that investing in a quality product will provide better performance and durability in the long run. Avoid compromising on key features and materials in an effort to save money.

Maintenance

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To ensure the longevity of your 1911 compensator, choose one with easy-to-clean and durable materials that can withstand frequent use without corrosion or damage. A compensator with user-friendly cleaning methods will make maintenance a breeze.

Customer Reviews and Ratings

Prior to making a purchase, research customer reviews and ratings for various 1911 compensators. This can provide valuable insights into the product's performance, durability, and overall user satisfaction.
Selecting the right 1911 compensator for your firearm is crucial for optimizing its performance. By carefully considering factors such as materials, size, design, ease of installation, budget, maintenance, and customer reviews, you can make an informed decision that enhances your shooting experience.

FAQ

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What is a 1911 compensator?

A 1911 compensator is an accessory designed to be attached to the barrel of a 1911 handgun. This device helps to reduce recoil and improve accuracy by redirecting the gas generated during firing in a forward direction.

Which 1911 compensators are available in the market?

Several 1911 compensators are available in the market from different manufacturers, including ATI, Troy, and Dead Air. Each compensator may have its own unique design and features.

What are the benefits of using a 1911 compensator?

• Reduced recoil, making shooting more comfortable and controllable
• Improved accuracy by reducing muzzle rise and moving the point of impact closer to the point of aim
• Enhanced performance in rapid-fire situations

How do I install a 1911 compensator?

Installing a 1911 compensator typically requires some gunsmithing skills. You'll need to remove the barrel from the 1911 handgun and thread the compensator onto the barrel, followed by re-installing the barrel into the handgun.

Are there any drawbacks to using a 1911 compensator?

Yes, there are some potential drawbacks. One is the increased weight of the handgun, which may affect the overall balance and feel of the gun. Additionally, some users may experience a reduction in the overall effective range of the handgun due to the compensator's design.

Do I need a specific 1911 handgun model to use a compensator?

Most 1911 compensators are compatible with the standard 1911 handgun models, but it's always a good idea to check the specifications of the compensator you're interested in to ensure it fits your handgun model.

How much do 1911 compensators typically cost?

The cost of 1911 compensators can vary widely depending on the brand, materials used, and features offered. Generally, you can expect to pay between $100 to $300 for a quality 1911 compensator.
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I've been divorced for around a year and a half now. We were sort of separated for a bit before he filed for divorce, just not officially according to legal documents. I hadn't been happy for a while, and at a point before separation I reached out to my high school boyfriend. He did not seem to want to rekindle anything. I did have my rose colored lenses on when I talked to him. I wanted to do my master's internship in the city outside of my hometown, and part of it was because I was hoping to see him. But then my ex husband filed for divorce which made it difficult to do that since we have three kids together.
I recently saw my high school boyfriend. I had been praying that I'd run into him. That he'd be interested in me again. I don't know if he saw me. We were in a community shelter during a storm. I know his wife saw me because we made eye contact. She kept glancing up the stairs, and I just stood at the entrance staring at them like a creep, not wanting to go down unless it was demanded of us. I don't know if she recognized me. I know their son saw me, I made eye contact with him and he waved at me and it looked like he was trying to talk to me.
I don't know if I want to reach out to him again. I had been working up to reach out to him, but they looked happy. He was checking his phone, she walked up and kissed him, he lit up. He lit up more when he saw his son and comforted him. They looked so happy together and it made me feel bad for wanting to talk to him. Because I thought that maybe they weren't happy.
I wanted to go back to my hometown hoping I could see my ex boyfriend again, my husband filed for divorce which prevented that. I finally see my ex boyfriend, and he's happy with his wife and kid. I might have thrown my marriage away for nothing.

I’m female, not white and work as a management level SME at a Tier 1 construction company. I’m project based and is attached to a specific major infrastructure project.
This project team is CHAOTIC on every side of the JV but the construction partner where I’m located is staggeringly bad. Like we’re less than 3 years away from operational handover and senior management is still churning and burning. There are still sites where both the PM and the project team are entirely fresh because the site has somehow had 3 entirely different teams within the last 8 months. Construction is insane usually but when the actual construction has to be finished for testing by mid 2026…this is next level.
Part of the chaos is the senior leadership instability of those in senior leadership. We’ve somehow had 2 project directors and 2 construction directors, 3 lots (2 at a time gets pushed out) of construction managers along with 2 commercial directors (3rd pending, 2nd one was pushed out), 2 project control directors and 2 HSEQ directors all since the start of project 17 months ago. I’ve lost count of how many general and site superintendents we’ve turned out. And staggeringly, for a buildings project, they keep on bringing in civils people (if you know, you know).
I’ve been around for over a year and have received glowing reviews from all around (client, stakeholders, management and workforce) because I hit every delivery milestone and do it with minimal spend. Now I report directly to the construction director due to one of the many random restructures this project does for no reason and no notice to those getting shuffled.
I was originally only supposed to look after a portion of this project within my subject matter but due to chaotic circumstances, HR without even notifying restructured my reporting line so I end up managing the entire project for my subject matter. At the time I raised it with my new manager (construction director) to get more people on my team and also to talk about remuneration. Was told that this will be discussed at the annual performance review.
12 months go by and we never had annual performance reviews. My manager never even booked me in for a 1 on 1 despite my best efforts. For context, my manager is v old school white man who within 3 months of starting got rid of the only other female manager reporting to him.
Then a month ago, I get called for a meeting with him and HR. Was asked at the meeting whether I thought I was suited for my current role. I was so surprised and taken back the entire meeting was a blur but the next day I get an email from him notifying me that the company is putting me on a PIP.
I requested another meeting through HR and went in with my actual job description and record of all the work I’ve done to fulfill my job description. This meeting went WEIRD because very few people talk back to my manager and he went off the rails. Started throwing things at me that is nowhere near my job description as examples of what he thought I was lacking. The most incriminating bit is that the only example he could pull up of where he thinks I screwed up on the job is when I refused to support something that was illegal and I refused to let my team support it.
Got called into a 3rd meeting with him and HR a week after the 2nd to be told that the company can’t actually assess my performance because I’ve been performing outside my job description because I was originally hired for a portion of the project, not the whole thing. So I’ll be issued a new contract and my scope on the project reduced. They’ll be hiring another person to look after the rest of the scope.
The 3rd meeting was on Monday. I got asked by a coworker why I was leaving on Wednesday because he’s processing onboarding for someone with the same role as I am to start next Monday.
Between the 1st meeting and the new person starting on the project, it was less than a month. Given I’ve seen that person’s resume before (for me to hire as a site team member), I know they were employed elsewhere and would have to give more notice than a week.
Given all the chaos on this project, I knew sticking around until the end was not for me and I’ve been looking. The contract for my next role came through already so I’m putting in my notice on Monday.
But given the hell my manager and HR put me through the last month I want to get them back.
Any advice on how?

I knew that the Dirtman was real, although I hadn't wanted to believe it.
Just the idea creeped me out. A man slathered in dirt who sneaks into your home while you're asleep and steals dirt from underneath your pillow.
It was freaky.
The stuff of nightmares.
But regardless of that, there was worse to come.
If by any chance you looked at the Dirtman, then he would stare at you until you died a slow, painful and miserable death.
But I highly doubted it.
No one had ever died.
They just keep their eyes shut. Only, if it's true.
And I highly doubt that it is. I mean, it's just an urban legend. A campfire tale.
Like the tooth fairy, but replace the teeth with dirt.
I decided to test the theory out. I knew that there could have been a danger to it, but I knew that the chances of such a thing being real seemed minimal, even impossible.
There's no dirtman, I told myself.
Nothing's gonna get you.
I retreated out of my bedroom, wearing only loose fitting pajamas, and crept downstairs. I was an adult male living totally alone, still afraid to make the stairs in my house creak.
Regardless, I still crept down. The wood of the stairs was cold to the touch.
Very ice cold. Freezing, even.
Gooseflesh aroused on my arms and I rubbed them to melt the pimples of the cold and return my arm to the normal smooth layer of skin.
That's a weird description.
But that's what the Dirtman'll do.
I reached the bottom of the steps. Just behind the dining table stood an outdoor backyard. The doors were made of see-through glass. Sliding doors. Damn convenient for barbeques on a nice Saturday evening.
I walked around the table, and unlocked the door.
The cold air hit me like a fist to the stomach. My stomach clenched, eyes grew watery...
I stepped outside, my bare-feet feeling the damp wood of the patio.
I walked down the small steps and into the garden.
Crouching down, I burrowed for a bit, feeling the grains of dirt against my hands. They stank of water, and a little bit of faeces, too. But that's what the rain'll do.
I looked at the sky.
Gonna rain again.
With a handful of dirt, I quickly got up from my crouched position and made my way up the patio stairs.
I felt like a juggling clown at the carnival, attempting not to spill the handful of dirt clenched in my grasp.
Racing up the stairs, I came into a small problem.
My door was shut.
Fuck.
My door had the spinning knobs, so I needed a hand to open it.
And then, I noticed that it wasn't entirely shut. But when my shoulder pushed against the door, it didn't open.
Oh well, I can clean up the dirt a little later.
I cupped the dirt into one hand, watching small specks fall onto the floor, and twisted the doorknob.
I raced inside and leapt for my pillow, careful not to spill the dirt.
Pulling the soft pillow upwards, I emptied my hand onto the mattress. The dirt laid before my eyes, and I quickly found myself asleep, as if it were some hallucinogenic way to fall asleep.
But I awoke to a sound.
My room was dark. My eyes were shut.
The Dirtman was real.
And he was inside of my home.
Inside of my bedroom.
Touching me.
His skinny finger, curved and bony, jutting with perfect precision, traced the outlines of my face. Up my cheek.
The way his hand felt, brushing against my face, felt like a knife carving into fine wood.
I was afraid, but I knew that all I had to was keep my eyes shut.
Or so I thought.
The Dirtman's hand reached my eye, and began to pull the flesh open. I felt my eyes blink. I looked everywhere but at the Dirtman.
'Look at me, child,' he croaked.
The voice was not human,
It was monstrous.
Multi-pitched and croaky, it reminded me of an angel. If only that angel had risen from the bowels of Hell.
My eyes locked onto him. He was a tall, skinny figure, with dirt slathered across albino skin. A smile was etched into his face, with the only bit of light gleaming from his crystal teeth.
'You are one of us, now,' he said.
Dirt outlined him, fell to the ground in clumps.
'You should have been asleep.'
My heart was racing.
His eyes were black. Vanta. I looked at him and could feel his gaze tearing my soul from my body. Literally.
My intestines had tensed to the point I felt like they were being sucked up through my throat. My bones were buzzing with a sense of vibrations.
It was like a compression of my stomach.
Mashing my bones together. Dicing them. Slicing them. Rearranging my body.
I heard the snap of my leg as the Dirtman lifted it above my neck, the knee wrapping around. He did the same to the other, forming an O with my feet.
He pulled my arms from the socket. The small section of flesh without any bone to rely on was one of my biggest phobias. And now this random Dirtman had just tried to kill me.
I felt a gash open up my forehead, blood seeping from the wound and blinding me.
As I tried to scream, mountains of blood and dirt strangled me, choked me, forced all of my air out, until my heart slowly began to stop beating.
If you are reading this, I am dead. Sacrificed to the Dirtman.
Please, never put dirt underneath your pillow.
Because the Dirtman will only retreat from that corner.
You know exactly what corner I am talking about.
You.
The reader.
Holding this book open on a paperback, a e-reader, a phone, a computer, an app.
Please, whatever you do.
DO NOT LOOK AT THAT CORNER.

^Vibe
Wiktor Czarnowski disembarks from the Inter-city train, the flurry of coach class passengers rush ahead towards the exit down the platform from him, while a porter guides him and the remaining first class passengers toward an exit through the station’s first class lounge. A small crowd of the first-class passengers forms around a cart carrying their luggage, Wiktor instead walks past carrying only a briefcase. Outside of the trains cool air conditioned interior, Guiana’s tropical heat beats down on him with it’s typical endless onslaught. Casting a quick look over his shoulder to ensure he hasn't been followed, Wiktor’s eye catches on the 120km Tall Space Pier, as one of it's two platforms makes it’s climb to the heavens. However, Wiktor was not followed, and he makes a hasty pace towards the street exit of the station.
“Excuse me sir! Permit me to call a cab for you?” a station attendant calls out at him.
“A cab? Are you serious? I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those rust buckets! I'd rather walk than be seen in such common transportation. Now, out of my way" Wiktor replies in a huff.
In a wave of embarrassment the attendant quickly responds “I’m so sorry Mr. Czarnowski! I didn't realize it was you! Honest!”
Wiktor crossed the street in a rush, rounding the street corner safely, it had been years if not decades since when cars had become the most common form of transportation in The Commonwealth's cities, thousands of streetcars, subways, heavy rail commuter trains, Light Rail Trains and even cablecars on some of the more challenging hills, crisscrossed the cities of the former Commonwealth every second of every day. With one last glance over his shoulder, Wiktor arrived at his destination, a small streetcar station, one of the very few to still accept fares to be payed in coins. 30 Seconds later, the streetcar rolled into the station, a computer recognized his ticket, and Wiktor was safely onboard and on his way to his office.
The CART (Cayenne Area Rapid Transit) Streetcar rolled smoothly into Wiktor’s final stop, and he quickly disembarked at the rearmost door, and walked into the lobby of his company’s office building.
"Evening, Mr. Czarnowski. Didn't expect to see you at this hour—everything alright?" the Lobby Guard asked cautiously.
"Just needed a break from the old ball and chain, Jean-Luc. Won't be long" Wiktor responded, before making his way up the elevator to the 79th Floor.
Wiktor reached the hallway, at the late hour all the secretary’s had long since gone home. Setting his briefcase on one of their desks, he unlocked it and lifted the case open. Reaching in he pulled out a pair of gloves, and slid them on. Second, he reached in and pulled out a .38 Snubnose Revolver, and loaded six bullets into it. He pocketed the gun, and closed the briefcase, locking it again. He walked quietly down the hallway, passing his office door, and reaching his business partner’s door instead. He starts to knock but pulls his hand away, and instead opens the door.
“Wiktor! What are you doing here!” Anna Kowalska starts to shout but two .38 Bullets send her reeling to the floor. He walks over and puts three more bullets into her computer, before throwing the gun to the ground and running over to the elevator and sending it down to the 2nd Floor. He returns to Anna’s office, shoving the gloves into his pocket, and steady’s himself for a second before reaching for the phone.
"Jean-Luc, quick! Anna's been shot, call for the Police!"

AFRECON [INDUSTRIAL COMMISSION]

OFFICE FOR INDUSTRIAL POLICY COMMUNICATION: BRIEFING ON THE 2100 INITIATIVE FOR INCOMING SUPREME BARAZA REPRESENTATIVES

A BRIEF SUMMARY OF THE HISTORY OF THE 2100 INITIATIVE: SENIOR COMMISSIONER PAULO KABAIREHO

^{CLEARED FOR PUBLIC DISTRIBUTION [NO INFORMATION CONTROLS]}
... in brief, the premise of the 2100 Initiative is that the African demographic pyramid is not moving in a favorable direction. By 2100, the Union will be approaching a situation in which the working age population quickly becomes insufficient to support the aging population without major restructuring, due to the rapid population growth of the mid-century trailing off as the UASR becomes a more developed economy. For historical reference, the problem is similar to the well known ‘demographic cliff’ faced by China and the East Asian democracies, before the collapse of the PRC and subsequent developments in the region.
The proposal of the 2100 Initiative is to, over the next 30 years, achieve a 75% post-scarcity economy. In layman’s terms, this means the ability to sustain current levels of economic productivity with 25% of the work force. The economic basis for this project is to combine the Africosmos/Pact space mining initiative with the Union robotics program. Kaabu inherited a large amount of android/drone infrastructure via captured ADIR “gigafactories”, while Union developments after the Great Liberation War included both advanced combat drones and theoretical research into improved actuation technologies.
The availability of space based resources is expected to improve dramatically in the next two to three years. The SOLOMON mining program entered low rate production in early 2072 and will ramp up to full rate delivery by 2076. Two space elevator-class tethers are currently in transit from the Zuhuramji carbon mills over Venus, and will be docked with the orbital and ground installations for the New Mombasa and New Libreville space elevators in 2073 and brought online by 2075, reducing the cost for delivery of material from orbit essentially to zero.
On the automation front, various state-owned and communal groups have iterated on a large number of industrial automatons that have been rolled out in limited numbers. Industrial automatons are most prevalent in Kaabu, which had an enormous need for workers in construction and industry during the reconstruction effort after the Great Liberation War, and to an extent still has not completely recovered. The animal-like designs first introduced by Nakuru Arms during the 2060s rearmament program remain prevalent; the body plans of African wildlife are well suited to African terrain, and drones resembling elephants, rhinos, and buffalo are common in agricultural and construction applications. These drones are typically powered by hydrogen or advanced battery technologies, as the nuclear batteries favored by military variants are considered unsafe for commercial sale.
Socially, the program has proven controversial. Sawahil, Kaabu, and Cuanza have all historically been extraction-based economies, and transitioned to industrial-based economies in the past fifty years. Mass automation of skilled manual labor therefore threatens to eliminate large swathes of the job market. Large-scale retraining, as was policy during the restructuring of the industrial sector in the depths of the resource crisis, can only go so far when the fundamental nature of employment is changing. The problem is not mass poverty, as the Initiative will introduce vast material wealth into the commune system, but managing the societal repercussions of this transition.
Kaabu is of note as both the republic that has advanced furthest along the Initiative, and the republic that has seen the greatest social challenges. Organized Islam was badly discredited by the Arab League’s religiously-motivated mass killings during the Great Liberation War; in only ten years, Kaabu plummeted from an extremely religious republic to one with 48% of citizens self-identifying as atheist, rivaling Sawahil’s 57%. A notable sub-population has proven to be particularly skeptical of replacing human labor with machines- the so-called “empty shells” movement. The empty shell protests have been most directed at the humanoid drones used primarily as industrial labor. The growth of this movement has been the subject of several studies…

APPENDIX 3: THE NEW LIBREVILLE AND NEW MOMBASA SPACE ELEVATOR COMPLEXES

^{CLEARED FOR PUBLIC DISTRIBUTION [NO INFORMATION CONTROLS]}
...construction of the New Libreville and New Mombasa space elevators consists of three primary programs. The elevator tethers were constructed at the Zuhuramji carbon mills, condensed in Venus’ upper atmosphere. One tether remains at Zuharamji, where it is being installed at the colony proper. The other two were shipped to Earth for installation over the UASR and are currently in transit as of 2072, with arrival in early 2073.
The ground facilities consist of two Oshun platforms installed 20 kilometers off the coast of Libreville, Equatorial Guinea and Mombasa, Kenya respectively. Unlike most Oshun platforms, the surface anchor platforms use the Waaq 2 architecture developed by the Navy for durability against accidents and attack, and are anchored to the ocean floor by reinforced nanocomposite steel tethers instead of being free to move under their own power. Both platforms are ringed in major port facilities, and are connected to the mainland by a 20 kilometer rail bridge serving the RPAfricaRail system.
The orbital facilities include a series of large orbital transshipping docks defended by nine Iron Beam 2MW-class lasers, analogous to the defenses at the Daraja Mbinguni L4 station. Construction began in 2068 and the major station components were launched from Daraja Kuwa in 2070, with the orbital sections completed in late 2072. Docking of the tethers is scheduled for early 2073, and construction of the elevator infrastructure is currently projected to be complete by mid 2075...

First/Previous
Since I knew there was a time before, I’ve wanted it, but that was child’s hope; even as a boy I wanted a dream. I wanted some divine being to enter from heaven and tell us all how it should be, but that wasn’t something I could ever count on—of course. Is there a god? I think so. I’ve seen those things and if they exist, then surely there’s a maker on the other end of it—god made both the light and the dark if the word’s to be believed and all we can hope for is a glimpse of the former. Even for a second.
The streets were soaked with blood and so many artillery rounds were fired into the sky—many I witnessed missed Leviathan—that I forgot what silence was like (not to mention the screams and there was a lot of that).
In the scrambling, I found I was reentering deeper into Golgotha and that wasn’t good. There was the ever-present thought that Maron was around every corner; the man had haunted my thoughts for longer that he should have and every time it was like an overwhelming force. It was simple enough after all, he was a piece of the past, a piece I could theoretically reach out and touch and that was what kept me to him.
In the fray of bolting citizens, I pressed myself to the exterior of a wall—I’d neared the stairs which once led to my apartment—and I kept out of the way of those that mindlessly went; some of those which rushed from the onslaught were those afflicted with skitterbugs and many of them either hobbled on blackened legs or—and this was rare—comrades or family helped to carry those which could not carry themselves. It was a baffling sight. A man carried a woman like a child (her toes had fallen off and her legs were black to the knees) and though he strode on with her, his own boots were caked with a mixture of blood and earth. An older girl led a young boy from the whirlwind of dust which was kicked up in the square; the boy’s eyes were whited, and his hands were curled to his chest, discolored. People, whatever duality there is, cared. There was not a drop of the apathy I’d learned and encouraged in myself.
I chewed like a mad dog through my bindings, and it was of little use; I yanked at the cord which secured my hands together and received rope burn in return. “Bitch!” I cussed the thing, but the flames in the sky were so loud, the bangs and vibrations from the artillery consumed all so it was like yelling in a barrel. I swung my hands out in front of me, feeling useless and felt a sudden urge to try again. I bit into the cord and repetitively motioned my jaw against the pressure of the cord, like I was going to saw through it with my teeth. Ha! Another yank is what brought my left hand free, but not without tearing a triangle of skin away from my wrist.
The cord dropped to my feet, and I looked around; a woman brushed past me, nearly toppled over my foot and I caught her by the wrist before she went head-over. She violently thrust from my grasp and screamed something at me. Another bout of flames burst from Leviathan’s maw as it circle-dove overhead. The heatwave from the blast exploded across my face so that I recoiled from the sky itself till I was on the ground, and I pushed myself from the earth and ran half dog-like from my place there at the wall. Where? It was hard to say where when every person that touched-by seemed to send me in another direction; in the madness, it was impossible to tell my course.
With time and effort, I found my way to the opening where the hydro towers were, three pillars which rose above Golgotha’s skyline, each one a testament to human resilience—engineers laborers toiled untold hours under Lady’s father to construct them. The hydro towers exploded into rubble as Leviathan slammed into them. Rock rained down as cutting shards and destructive boulders. A man lay beside my feet where he'd been pinned by the onslaught—white concrete kept him there by his chest—he gasped for air and blood already formed around him. In a moment, I looked away at the dying man, his half-whited eyes bulging at me. Meat hung from the left side of another man’s face as he cradled his head in his hand and moved like he was stoned and sat among the stomping feet; he slumped into the spot he sat and did not move till others came by him in a hurry and he simply fell onto his side like a toy animal.
The screams were too much. I looked to the towers, the nubs which had broken away like bad teeth against the red sky, and whole people fell alongside the rubble, limbs and showers of blood and Leviathan latched atop the towers and rocked its massive body so that the structures slipped directly from their foundations and tumbled over like pins. I ran and again there was nothing but chaos, nothing but mind-numbing wilder thoughts—it was grim and there wasn’t a place for coherency; it was all snaps of images.
In the mess of bumbling limbs, I pushed through to the hall of Bosses and there were people there already, rushing the stairs; the ground shook and I assumed it must’ve been the towers. The things demolished all in their path, and briefly, I saw the ramshackle structures which normally stood in their shadows come slanting over and people leapt from those places too and landed poorly and there was a cacophony of tremors through the earth—it felt as though hell should open.
The steps at the base of the hall were flooded and it was a fight to climb them as legs came high up from ahead and swiped at those behind and I kept my hands ahead of me to block whatever foot may come my way.
Wall men stood ready with their rifles at the tops of those steps and fired their weapons indiscriminately into the crowd. Bodies, big and small, piled atop the steps after a brief bullet dance and it came that I wasn’t only climbing stairs, but corpses; the warmth of their flesh as I clawed ahead remained and blood fog hung in the air. That grouping of wall men, casually lined before the doors of the hall were overtaken and they disappeared, their rifles cackled and came alive with muzzle flashes and the animal hands of the horde brought them to ground.
Us, the horde, funneled through those front doors and for a moment, in the thick walls of the hall, the outside world audibly disappeared; the blood and dust remained, but it was quieter save the shuffling feet and cusses of passersby I was carried deeper.
Those that worked the underground went quickly and I followed, and those ignorant followed for the sake of survival and it was not long till we stumbled into the Boss’s lair. With room, people dispersed like water through the tunnels and found dark recesses to tend their wounds or mourn whatever was lost and the explosive open air had been fully replaced by the quiet black oppressive mumbles of people taking stock of all those that had died. And all those that would. Every few moments, the walls shook, and dust fell from the ceiling fixtures.
A few haggard folks moved to the doorway which led to the damp room which led to the kitchen, and they slammed the door shut and latched it and began to check adjacent rooms for things to barricade the way.
“Stop!” said a man in the dim flickering underground light—I was surprised to see the man was me, “Leave it open! Others might need help.” I retraced my steps to the small faction that’d gathered there at the doorway. “You can’t just let them die out there. Let them in.”
“Shut up!” a skinny girl with her hair pulled back on her malnourished skull spoke gruffly; she choked, coughed—dust clung to her clothes—she’d been near the collapse of the hydro towers if I guessed. “Step off, or I’ll—
“Or you’ll what?” I shouted.
The girl put up her fists, two lumpy stones, and in stupid response I closed the distance between us. With speed, her fist met my nose, and I stumbled back on my heel.
Without hesitation, I brought up my own hands and landed a blow to her stomach. She craned forward, gasped on repeat, and took a knee.
Blood wet my upper lip, and I wiped it away with my forearm.
“Move,” I said to the others by the door; there were two: a woman and a boy that was nearly a man.
The boy charged headstrongly, attempted a kick and I easily shoved his small frame against the tunnel wall; the hard metal sounded a meaty thud against his body and the woman launched unseen at me, raked her nails down the back of my neck, and tore at my collar. I kept a forearm to the boy’s throat and rocked his head with my free elbow. Once he wept and spit red, I let him go; the boy slid into a sit and I spun on the woman, shoving her away. My left leg began to give, and I used the wall over the boy’s head as support. I swung at her with a wild claw and my fingertips grazed her nose as she fell away to the opposite wall.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She launched at me, and my leg gave out under her tackle, and I stumbled half-on the boy, my feet kicked helplessly at her, and the boy regained his composure and began to crawl towards me. We wrestled and then the girl I’d knocked in the gut rejoined the fray. I was done. They had me pinned and spat curses at me and took turns shoving my head into the floor.
“You’re going to get us killed,” shouted the woman, “Are you stupid?”
I grinded my teeth and tried to throw them off; I was overpowered and easily pressed down again.
The overhead lights flickered with another deep earthy vibration and the trio let go of me in an instant—I came up swinging my arms like crazy and as I went to kneel before propelling myself to stand, a hand rested on my shoulder. I spun on the hand and was met with the black mouth of a 9mm pistol—that froze me fast.
The owner of the weapon—a wall man by the look of her fatigues—motioned for me to stand and I did. Her eyes were far off and nervous and the metal shook in her outstretched hand. “Against the wall!” she barked at us; she was small-framed and youthful but full grown, and I could easily push her out of my way if not for the pistol. We went to the wall, and she moved to the door while keeping the gun drawn on us. She watched us and glanced at the door. “It’s latched! Who latched the door?” She asked.
No one spoke. The other three looked to their feet; I initially refused to rat, and snorted blood—my nose throbbed and by touch I could tell it swelled already.
“Well? Why’s it closed?” she asked the question more like a desperate child than a person with control. “C’mon!” The 9mm rolled limply on her wrist as she said the word, like she was attempting to draw the confession from us with the motion.
“There’s an attack. They’re killing everyone,” said the boy.
The girl and woman nodded.
“Who?” asked the wall man.
“Demons, muties,” said the boy, “Big stuff. Everyone’s dying.”
The ground shook as if to emphasize his point.
The wall man studied us for a moment, lingering last on me and for the longest and she took a long breath and let the sigh out dramatically slow. “I know you,” she motioned at me with the gun, “You’re that maniac. The one that tried to murder everyone.” Her eyes fell then returned and she put her weight on the door while maintaining the barrel of the gun eye-level in my direction.
“I ain’t gonna’ hurt anyone,” said. I briefly thought about smiling but decided that’d look worse.
“How do I know that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said the boy, “He tried to kill us already!” His voice cracked with adolescence; the blood I’d spilled from his mouth coated the front of his holey shirt.
The trio nodded all together—everyone agreed that I was a maniac killer.
“They latched it,” I said, “Cowards.”
A thump came from the other side of the door which frightened the wall man and she leapt from the spot she’d leaned—it took several full seconds to realize her gun went off; there was a flash, and my ears rang. I stumbled from the knot of people and slunk a couple of feet from the space by the door. The girl—the one I gut-punched—collapsed to the floor while holding the right side of her face. The women crowded the girl, panicked, the boy sprinted past me and disappeared deeper into the underground, and the wall man stood there with a wretched blank expression. There was a long moment which hung in the air; I could not hear and then it came back, and it was the girl’s screams I heard first.
Upon stepping to them, I saw the prone girl had been shot just so—through the cheek. Her eyes rolled from likely spinal damage; whatever the angle, it seemed to have ripped through irreparable nerves and she bled a lot. There wasn’t any hope for that girl.
“Well,” I said to the wall man, “Finish it. No reason to make her suffer.”
The girl on the ground writhed unnaturally and caterwauled while the woman by her side attempted to calm her.
Greater became the sound of the belabored hands on the other side of the door; then a hollow-sounding gunshot came from the other side; were they shooting the door? Or each other? Another round—human screams.
The wall man shook her head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
I tried to hold the wall man’s gaze, but she didn’t seem able.
With speed, I moved to the wall man, reached for the gun which dangled helpless by her side—her initial response was to flinch, pull the weapon from my reach; our eyes locked and I clenched my jaw. She could’ve killed me. There wouldn’t have been surprise from me if she had.
She let go of the gun and I nodded, and she nodded and the woman kneeling by the girl threw herself over her. “Please,” protested the woman, “Please don’t!”
With the aid of the pistol, I was given space, and nothing was said. I mentally prepared myself for the ringing which accompanied gunfire in small spaces, even tilted my head away with my free palm up and took aim and the girl jerked once then went still.
With the ringing going and sound returning, the drumming on the door returned, as well as the quiet weeps of the woman; she crawled to the wayside of the hall, pressed her back against the wall and rested her chin on her knees with her arms around her shins. She didn’t rock to or fro and hardly made any noise at all. But the small and quiet sobs remained faintly there.
First/Previous
Archive

Chapter 1: Hope’s 16th Birthday
As the rays of the sun hits her eyes Hope Moonshine wakes up excited, she was waiting for this day for all her life
She jumps out of her bed and rushes to her mom's room excited and she accidentally flung the door open too fast making a loud cranking noise waking her mother, Queen Matilda up
"Oops didn't mean to wake you up" hope said awkwardly"Honey I know you are excited for your birthday but you need to be patient the sun has just risen everyone is still asleep" Matilda said tiredly, "please go back to sleep darling you will have a long day today and you will need the energy, your party wont be begin till noon"
"Ok mom, sorry for waking you up" said Hope as she was trying to close the door slowly enough that it doesn't crank but it still did "Not an issue dear", said Matilda
As the door closed Matilda took a deep breath and closed her eyes her emblem on her right shoulder a pink diamond glowed she opened her eyes and she made a finger gun with her right hand pointing at the hinges and a shiny pink light zaps comes out of her index and zaps the hinges, the beam turns into a hand and it open the door and then closes without making a cranking noise, "I should have done that a long time ago" said Matilda
She removes the blankets from her bed to reveal she is already clothed for a serious occasion, as she goes towards the mirror she is wearing a long cyan dress that trails all the way to her feed her top being smartly tight with short shoulder sleeves, she puts on long white gloves and glances over her diamond ring she lets out a small sigh and frown and puts it on, she trances over the mirror for a few seconds before snapping out of it, and she looks over to a miniature painting of her an her daughter when she was 6 she picks it up and smiles "I know you are eager dear you won't have to wait for long"
After Matilda ready's herself she open her window and conjures a light bird of the palm of her hand, the bird flew off to Hope's room where it sees her lying in her bed on her stomach, the bird soon returns to Matilda's room and land on her palm her eyes glows for a moment and the bird fizzes into a yellow cloud, "Well it looks like she actually listened not very common of her to do so, it means I can continue to do my plan unobstructed" she said with a smile.
Matilda leaves her room and walk across the hallway to the main hall then she claps her hand twice, and snap her finger, suddenly a figure jumps into the window it spins 180° and a muscular women stands up, she has a scar on her left cheek and short brown hair, she wore knight armour that cuts of at her shoulder emblem that looks like a dark grey shield.
"At your service my queen", she said with a salute
Matilda is startled for a moment, but then composes herself, "Sally there is no need for you to enter that way you can just wait for me at the hall entrance", she said.
"I was scouting the perimeter we have to make sure this place is safe and to make sure no one can harm the princess at her important day, I was up all night with my team searching every corner of the upper ring for any danger and-" Sally was abruptly cut off by Matilda.
"It was not your fault Sally, there is no need for you to prove yourself to me" Matilda said remorsefully, "You tried your best so you must eventually forgive yourself it wasn't anyone fault, it truly came from nowhere"
Sally's serious expression break into expression of regret as she shamefully looks at the ground
"Now is not time to punish ourselves over who we failed to protect but to make sure my daughter has a great birthday" Matilda said with determination
Sally's expressions of regret turned to a smile, "Yes my Queen, me and the royal guards have spent last few weeks clearing a safe path from the upper ring to the more presentable areas of the lower ring that ends at the great barrier" Sally says with a salute.
"Well I trust your judgement, you are now dismissed" said Matilda
Sally goes down the stairs of the central hall towards the doors "I won't mess up again" Sally said with determination
"Oh Houston" Matilda said while turning her head left and right, "where is he when I need him",
"I am right here your majesty" Houston whispered from behind, Matilda was startled and was annoyed on how everyone seems to sneak up on her, "Sorry for spooking you" said Houston as he polished his monocle "We are well prepared to begin celebration soon" he said as his hand pointed towards the empty hall.
Matilda stared at him, he then clapped his hands and an army of servants entered the hall setting up the chairs and tables, followed up by waiters quickly setting food on the table, and then 6 waiters came together to slowly lift the large 4 layered birthday cake with a milk white colour with chocolate cream on top of each layer, with "happy birthday Hope" spelled with strawberry topping on the side of each layer, with the glowing yellow number "16" candle at the top.
"As I was saying my Queen" Houston started "We just need to wait for the guests to arrive, I will let you know when you can call your daughter" Houston stops from a moment "Do you want anything else your majesty or am I dismissed?" he asked.
"You are dismissed Houston" said Matilda
Matilda walks up to Hope's room and slowly opens the door to find her laying in her bed
"One thousand one hundred and forty-two" Hope counted to herself, she paused and took a deep sigh, and tried to continue but then paused scratching her head "Um One-".
she was interrupted by her mother saying "Thousand one hundred and forty-three", "Unable to sleep dear?" She said with a smile, Hope gasped and she had the biggest smile in her face, her mother was a bit startled and asked "what is it you are smiling at?".
Hope pointed at her, jumped from her bed and as she was taking heavy breathes pointing at her mother clothes, "You don't sleep in this" she takes a deep breath and exclaims "which means I have got to get ready" and she runs to her closet to pick up something to wear.
Matilda takes a glance down at her clothes and rolls her eyes "so much for a surprise"
"I am ready mom" Hope said ecstatically, she was wearing a beautiful turquoise dress which complemented her hair colour styled in two plates with with joined with a pink band and wearing her favourite golden necklace,
"That was quick" her mother commented
As they enter the main hall a bunch of guests are seated drinking beverages and helping themselves to freshly baked foods, "Attention everybody, I would like you to welcome the birthday girl" said Houston, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads towards the princess.
She gets a bit nervous and let out an awkward "hey guys", she didn't recognize any of them but she had to pretend to know all of them while hoping they don't ask her if she knows them, they all continue to stare as she and her mother get seated.
Houston lets out a forced cough to break the awkward silence, he says "and now Princess that you have come here you may blow the candles", the table the cake was on was carried towards Hope and her mother seated on there high chair, Hope tries to mask her excitement as she takes a deep breath and gently blow the candles, which fire off the cake and make a small explosion spelling out "Happy Birthday Princess!", Hope's eyes lit with joy.
Trumpets play and two royal servants come into the hall holding a gold plated chest decorated with diamonds, the chest is slowly opened and a blinding bright light shined from inside it, "Go ahead dear" said Matilda as her eyes pointed to the chest.
Hope goes down towards the chest and slowly lowers her hand inside of it and grabs what inside, as she removes her hand from the chest it reveals her to be holding the magic wand, it had a purple handle with a sparkly cyan diamond at its back end and a translucent turquoise sphere at it top decorated with a white glowing shape which resembled the combination of a two star into two different planes inside, and topped off with a small yellow crown at the top
Hope's shoulder emblem a pink heart with a tiny crown on top of both curves starts glowing, she raises the top of the wand at eye level, "ooh what's this" she says as she tries to stick her finger inside it to touch the spinning star
"HOPE DONT" shouted her mother, as soon as hope touched it burnt her finger and she let out a painful screech and fires a yellow glowing beam fires from the wand at some guest who were quick enough to duck, it hits a glowing orange decorative plant crushing it against the wall,
"hehe this could have been worse", Hope said awkwardly, the wreckage catches fire...
"FIRE" yells Sally, the guards that were standing by the walls quickly moved and shoved away all nearby guest as Sally goes and faces the fire here shoulder emblem glows and she fires yellow beam at it from her hands she then she clenches her fist and the beam turns into water extinguishing the fire and a yellow cloud evaporates from it, she quickly turn over to Hope and rushes over to her "ARE YOU OKAY PRINCESS" she exclaimed worryingly.
"I am fine it's just my finger is a little -" before she finishes her sentence Sally picks her up and running with her in her arms and runs up to the door and out of the Palace.
Queen Matilda is left with the guests and lets out an awkward chuckle and says "so who wants some drinks?", "Please help yourself to the finest wines in the whole kingdom" she said as a servant reveals a bunch of wine bottles in gold coating, the guests all rushed to get a sip
"I am telling you I am fine it's just a little scratch its rude for me to leave suddenl-" Hope was interrupted by Sally kicking the door open.
"PA-" Sally yelled before being interrupted by a "SHHHH", she was shushed by a woman with a white robe that cut offs at the shoulder, and a hand crafted necklace made of cotton around her neck, she had red hair tied into a bun and a green plus sign as her shoulder emblem.
"Seriously Sally how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet in here" said healer Pam with frustration she lets out a sigh and asks, "So what seems to be the problem?" Sally pulls out Hope and holds her at arms length right Infront of her Hope lets out a "Hi".
Pam gasps "Oh my princess sorry I didn't know you were coming, are you hurt?"
"No not at all it's ju-" Hope was interrupted yet again it seems like although she is becoming a grownup no one seems to want to listen to her
"She burned herself quickly check up on her" commanded Sally as she lowered Hope to her feet, Pam glanced at her up and down
"Where was she hurt", asked her confused. Hope sheepishly pointed to her left index finger it was a bit red which could be easily seen as it contrasted with her smooth white skin, but it was also accompanied by a yellow 'liquid', Pam conjured a white napkin to clean the site of the injury and singled out the injured finger from Hope's hand and put her hand on it and made into a fist and then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes her shoulder mark started having a green glow for a few seconds and then it suddenly went dim, she opened her hand to find the finger fully healed like it was never even scratched.
"Oh wow t-thanks" said Hope with a smile.
"Oh it's nothing" said pam, she took out her napkin it had some yellow glowing spots of what looks like fluid except its it didn't soak in but floated around it, "I see you can use magic now, what was your first spell" Pam said with excitement.
"I-i just shot this out of the wand" she said as she pointed at liquid on the napkin that started evaporating considerably, she then lowered her voice and talked faster "and it hit a plant and set it on fire" she was saying as she looked at the floor, Pam laughed and Hope was starting to blush.
"Oh don't worry dear we all mess up at the start, when I first started I accidentally broke a boy's arm" Pam said with a laugh.
"Is he okay now?" Hope asked with curiosity
"Well when I was your age healing wasn't what it is today they just put his arm in a cast and said if he was lucky his arm would be usable in three years", "I never was interested in healing like my mom but I wanted to fix my mistake so I studied and practiced for months to focus my healing and one day it just clicked, I got back to him and I was able to heal his arm and this happiness a patient feels when they are treated makes this all worth it" she let out a calm sigh and continued "It was not an easy journey but in just 8 years I was able to reach my peak"
"Eight years?" Hope said in disbelief
"Don't worry your path is way longer than mine my peak is at least four levels lower than you" Pam said with a grin
"It isn't that huge difference right?" Hope inquired hoping her journey wont be in the double digits because that's a very long time
Pam laughed and then said "Oh it way larger than it looks, but don't worry royals don't have a peak at least not one that one knows off" she put her hand on Hope's shoulder "Don't let the long road overwhelm you as long as you are better than yesterday you will be a great princess"
Hope smiled at her and said, "Thanks a lot Pam"
"So is everything alright with her, she stuck her finger into the wand are you sure there wont be any complications" asked Sally
"She will be alright she might have lost her finger if she went deeper and then It will actually a challenge to fix, but this is what pain reflexes are for, it a blessing in disguise", replied Pam
Sally clapped her hands and said "Well we got to go now we cant keep the guests waiting thanks for your help Pam"
Hope looked over to her and said "You should come over it's my birthday you can go change the setting", "No dear being a Healer is big commitment what if someone is in need of assistance and I am not here but I appreciate the gesture, maybe I could arrange my schedule to be there next time, go enjoy yourself".
"Pam the amputee is ready for his second regeneration session" a voice called.
"The what?" exclaimed Hope.
"Oh it's a bit graphic you really don't want to see it, I got to go now send your mother my regards" replied Pam as she ran over to a patient
Sally and Hope went to the door and left.
"You know I was really fine, it was just a scratch" Hope said as she looked up to Sally, "It's kind of rude to just leave the guests hanging I could have just sucked it up-"
Hope tried to continue when Sally muttered under her breath "I won't forgive myself".
"What was that?" asked Hope.
"Nothing, it's just you can never be so sure and no one was stupid enough to stick there finger in the wand I was just making sure but since it wasn't serious we don't need to worry" Sally said with an anxious fake smile, Hope sensed there was something off about her tone but she didn't want to push Sally into an uncomfortable spot so she left it at that
Sally and Hope make it back to the palace and Matilda rushes to her daughter "Oh dear are you ok"
She said as she gave her girl a hug, Everyone was staring and Hope got a bit embarrassed "yeah Mom I am ok" Hope said, Matilda stood up and was about to say something before Hope pre-emptively said, "I know I know it was pretty stupid from me to to do what I did, I know the wand is not a toy and I promise I will be more careful with it" she said while avoiding eye contact
Matilda smiled and said "Well I appreciate that you understand that you messed up but that not what I wanted to say" Hope made eye contact and Matilda continued "As princess and future queen we will have you visit the LOWER RING" Matilda took her daughter's hand "Sure its not the safest or best place in the kingdom but a hermit ruler is a bad ruler"
Hope got extremely excited over this as she always wanted to see the rest of the kingdom the Lower ring, the Outer ring but she was always told no because Sally's word "It's way to dangerous, you are not ready, you aren't old enough" or her mother's word "Is there something there that you cant find at home?, The place isn't very hygienic" but how bad could it be it was still under the rule of the Moonshines. Life in the Upper ring and the palace get boring after a while, why would she wants to stay put there when there a whole world to explore?
"The escorts are waiting for us outside those who want to go with us are welcome to go" Said Matilda looking at the guests with a forced smile almost knowing the reaction. All of them tried to mask there faces of disgust as if Matilda just asked them to bathe in mud or even worse she said that the food at the legendary "façade haut de gamme" was just an overpriced scam. They didn't look very impressed, Matilda coughed and asked "Well?".
One couple went towards the exit and when they got to Matilda the man said "We are truly flattered by your invite my queen but I am afraid we have something important to do" the man paused and scratched his head trying to think of an excuse Hope looked over him and asked
"What's more important to than a trip to see the rest of kingdom its not like we can always get to do it" with an ecstatic smile the woman who was scratching her head stopped as if she got an idea she went over looked to Hope with a stupid fake smile and said
"Well sweetie we forgot to sign up our son for school and registration will be closing today" she turned over to her husband and elbowed him in ribs and asked "Isn't that right honey?"
The man nodded in agreement and they walked out and they led out an audible sigh and when they were just outside of earshot the man told his wife "Moonshines huh? You would think after what happened a decade ago they would get the memo" the woman looked back at the Queen then waved and looked back at her husband and said
"She is weak if this happened to me I will make sure those pigs wish they weren't born".
Following into there footsteps and sensing an opening other guests decided to excuse themselves outside and at this point Matilda stopped resisting she knew some wouldn't want to go but she didn't think that many would go and she looked defeated Hope turned to her and said "Well mom we don't need those nose in the airers it's there loss anyways"
A woman walked up to them "She is right you know in-law" that woman was Hope's paternal aunt Mary, she had short blonde hair and brown eyes wearing a yellow dress for the occasion "The only reason any off these arrogant buffoons came here is societal expectations much like basically everything here" she said while rolling her eyes "and they all dipped the second they had the chance, come on lets go"
As they walked past the doors Sally was standing just outside the door scanning the setting with her eyes, her eyes wandered and locked with Mary "You should relax Sally no need for you to be so tense" she said with a smile she then changed her tone suddenly and said with a frown and a in a low voice that Hope and Matilda couldn't hear "Me and Matilda can protect ourselves and we aren't relying on you and my niece was under my protection since she was six, all you need to do is drive the horses and look menacing" and then she put her hand on her shoulder and smiled and said with an audible voice "So you can feel a lot more at ease dear", Sally tried hid her feeling of guilt with a fake smile "Let's go" said Mary joyfully
Everyone got on the horse driven chariot, just a classical chariot nothing magical about it, it's a very ineffective method of transport but one of the most relaxing ones
"HEEEEEY WAIT FOR ME" yelled a girl from as she was she surfing a purple cloud wearing a long sleeved purple sweater and blue pants as she got closer she tried to slow down by tilting her body backwards but she lost control and started flying at high speeds towards Hope
"EM SLOW DOWN" shouted Hope.
"I CANT BRACE FOR IMPACT" they both closed there eyes with their arms covering there eyes but just before contact she was caught effortlessly by Sally one hand and her cloud in the other she crushed the cloud in her fist into yellow mist that faded away and put the girl on her feet she then crossed her arms and looked down and barked
"Miss Emberlynn Springfield you should know how dangerous using magic without experience is, and you can't just rely on something you can't even responsibly use to make up for your own lack of punctuality"
Ember looked taken aback but she didn't want to look stupid so she snapped back with "I didn't know Hope is celebrating her birthday early in the morning, birthdays are a night activity".
Sally who was crossing her arms now raised her eyebrow and simply replied with,"Lies you were told everyday for the last week not my fault you can't seem to be able to be punctual friend's birthday, do you simply not care?".
Ember now looked embarrassed and now was rolling her finger around her dyed purple hair "M-M-My rooster didn't wake me up" she said with a smile while shrugging her shoulder as if she is asking question and the question was 'will Sally let the lecture go'.
"This doesn't matter now anyways it's that Ems is here" interjected Hope with excitement as she put her arm around Ember's shoulder "We shouldn't be wasting time let's go" she said as she punched her hand up in the sky.
Matilda, Hope, Ember and Mary entered the Chariot while Sally rode one of the two horses moving it while the other was being moved by an over-armoured and visibly nervous man.
"Calm down Edmund its just a short trip by a defined path we will be in an out in an hour or two" commanded Sally looking at Edmund clearly getting tired of his lack of confidence.
"I am trying but its such a big deal, escorting not one not two but three royals into the lower ring, I am not sure if I can do this, If I mess up-- I am too young for the consequences" he said clearly on the edge of panic
Sally slapped her hands on his cheeks "Edmund calm down you can do this I know you can" she said, Edmund seemed to calm down a bit "The whole path is being heavily guarded you and me are the last line of an extremely deep wall of defences we are most likely just going to be there for company" she looked back at the cart and said "and besides it's not like the royals can't protect themselves, they are much stronger than us after all"
"That's what they said about fre-" Edmund mumbled before putting his hand on his mouth mid sentence, Sally expression changed to that of anger.
"What did you just say?" she barked.
Edmund realising his mess up and started shaking "Um- I was talking about ---- the nice weather we are having" he said trying to pretend that this wasn't the stupidest attempt at backtracking, before Sally was going to give him a piece of her mind Mary stuck her head out and said in annoyed tone
"Hey I am not getting any younger here", Sally and Edmund looked forwards and shook the horse reins and they got moving forward
As they got to the edges of the Upper ring they reached translucent yellow barrier "We are reaching the barrier you might feel a tickle" proclaimed Sally.
As the horse crossed the barrier the barrier walls phased through the cart and it phased through Mary and Matilda there shoulder emblems glowed a four pointed star and a diamond respectfully in a yellow hue when it got to Hope and Ember the cart got to a sudden halt and they were thrown forwards Hope fell on her mother while Ember face was slapped into the barrier which was at this point halfway through the cart.
Sally opened the door "Everyone ok" she took one look at Ember and let out an annoyed sigh she dragged her hand out of the cart and asked while trying to hide her frustration "Show me your emblem"
Ember scoffed and tried to tuck back her long sleeves but she couldn't get back enough and said while crossing her arms "I can't and I am not removing my shirt".
Sally wasn't having any of it and from tip of her index made a sharp grey magic beam, she flattened Ember's sleeve and made a small cut in her right shoulder showing a yellow star rotated slightly to the left, after the cut yellow gas evaporated from it "And this is why emblems aren't covered it's common knowledge Springfield" said Sally annoyed.
"My favourite shirt! This was very unnecessary" whined Ember and before she could say anything Sally went back to her horse leaving her alone she scoffed and went back to the cart and sat next to Hope crossing her arms.
"You okay there", asked Hope concerned.
"Yeah I am fine just another lecture", said ember looking at the windows
As Hope looked out the window the lower ring didn't seem so different from home, people dressed and walked smartly roads were clean but something was off she couldn't help but notice everyone wore long sleeves even though it was a summer and it's not proper etiquette and that's something else it was surprisingly hot, She took her head out through the windows "Hello stranger" she greeted a man walking nearby he took one solid look at her and looked towards her mother and Sally who was frowning and her hands free with her emblem glowing, he didn't say anything and turned back and proceeded to speed walk away in a few seconds he ditched the subtlety and ran away, Hope was pretty disappointed and got her head into the cart
"What did I do wrong?", Hope asked.
"Girl it's either because you were too friendly it felt fake" said Ember, Hope looked down "Or they were made to feel unwelcome by misses buzzkill in the driving seat" she remarked
A loud sound of crashing wooden boxes was heard and cart went to a halt
"What was that" commented Mary
"Something that isn't boring" Hope said with excitement before leaving the cart.
"Make sure all of them stay put in the cart I will be gone for a short while" said Sally to Edmund before running to the source of the sound Hope tried to follow her but was body blocked by Edmund with his arms crossed
"Sorry I can't let you go princess, Superior's orders", he glanced to the left of him to seeing Ember touching a fancy table Infront of a café just for it to poof into a yellow cloud,
"Ow splinters" she cried, the yellow cloud fizzled reveal a wooden table barely clinging to its shape with a bunch of makeshift wooden fixes that don't even match in colour
Edmund looked like he just saw a ghost and ran towards Ember who was now transforming outdoor expensive furniture into splinter traps
"Stop touching it" said Edmund before shooting out a grey magical hands towards her subduing her, "What's your deal" he scolded annoyed.
"No what's this place deal why is everything here so fake?" snapped Ember "You hearing this Hope this place is fa-" she then stopped and asked "Aye were is Hope?"
Edmund let her go and pulled on his hair "Oh no no no no no no no" he cried
"Is everything alright where is my daughter?" asked Matilda concerned, Edmund didn't know what to say but before he could make up an explanation Mary interjected
"Oh don't worry Mati she will be ok she is probably with Sally and besides she still has this necklace I gave her so I am sure she will be just fine" Mary said with her hand on Matilda's shoulder "and we can go have some tea and chit-chat while we wait I heard that Gilbert's tea shop has actually potable tea" she suggested Matilda sighed and decided to go with what Mary said and walked towards the shop. "What about me?" asked Ember, Edmund turned towards her with anger and barked "You are staying right here!".
"Sally where are you?" called Hope as she was walking she saw a little girl wearing a cute pink dress and smooth brown hair walking alone Infront of her, she approached her and asked
"Hey do you happen to see a tall lady around here?" she tapped on her shoulder to get her attention and suddenly a cloud of yellow gas evaporated out of her Hope and the little girl coughed and as the smoke cleared the little girl was wearing a poorly knit patchwork of randoms scraps of fabric and her hair was covered in dirt she had a brown circle on the side of her shoulder, Hope froze in shock "I- I am so sorry, it was an accident" she apologised "I can go get you a new dress or--" the girl just looked at Hope her eyes glanced her wand which was in her right hand as well as her royal emblem and then she started hyperventilating and burst into tears.
Hope got on to her knees and she gently put her hands on the girl's shoulder "Calm down calm down, it's alright, It's not your fault but mine"
"P-P-pwease do-don hu-hur meeee" the girl sobbed.
"What hurt you? no no no no" Hope explained trying to figure out from where the girl got the idea
Hope hugged the girl "Here calm down see I am friendly" she soothed, the girl seemed to calm down a bit and she started sniffing
She let her go and asked "So what's your name?"
"R-R-Rosie" replied Rosie.
"Ok Rosie I am so sorry for ruining your dress, do you remember were you got it from?" she asked
"Ms Bea had guys gib it to us" Rosie said
"Misses Bea huh" she wondered out loud "Well can you tell me were misses Bea is"
"Sowwy I can't tell you misses moonnnn" Rosie was saying before she looked she wanted to cry again
"Please don't cry" Hope pleaded "You don't need to tell me where you live just wait" Hope passed her wand to her left hand and put her now free hand to her pocket and pulled out a purple wallet and she pulled out a golden note with 50 written on it she passed the note to Rosie and said "Here give this to misses Bea and tell her I am so sorry for destroying your dress also" Rosie grabbed the note and stared at it, Hope pulled some wrapped candy she got from the party "Her have some candy too" the girl put her the note in her pocket and grabbed the wrapped candy she struggled with it a bit and she then passed it back
"Open it please" Rosie asked
"Oh you can't? it's quite simple here" Hope said she gently tapped the candy her emblem glowed for a moment and the wrapping fizzed out.
Rosie put the candy in her mouth and quickly chewed and swallowed it, she then gave Hope a hug, she let go after a moment "Thank you miss, Ms Bea says Moosines are scawy but aren't scawy"
"Scary why would we be scary" Hope asked in disbelief with a smile
Rosie looked around and said "I am sowwy I need to go" she turned back and ran away and took a turn and was just out of sight.
"You couldn't just stop causing trouble for one day? what did we pay you for?" Hope heard Sally barking.
The sound of Sally's voice came from an alleyway, as Hope entered the alley the clean white paint started fading into rotting maroon bricks and the smell became foul coming from the open dumpster "Ewwwww" Hope said as she lowered the lid to try and lessen the stench
"Hey you know it's rude to close the lid on someone trying to fetch themselves a meal" a bald man barked as he popped out like a jack in the box he had a white beard wearing over shoulder strapped brown pants with a black plastic bag for a shirt and a metal can of beans for a hat and his left eye with a grey iris spinning his shoulder emblem only consisted of a simple brown circle, Hope screamed and ran away "Oh beans was that a Moonshine?" the man asked himself "Well I probably should skip town" he said to himself with a goofy smile while snapping his fingers.
Hope stopped running and started panting "Now you are lucky I am not here in head bashing duty or I would have sent you to a one way trip to the Outer ring and the monsters there could deal with you" Hope heard Sally scolding, she walked to the end of the alleyway the place beyond it was extremely different people clothes were worn out in which the holes were covered up by half baked sewn rotting fabric the road didn't exist it was simply a dirt undefined path and walls were all made of rotting bricks same as that of the alley, windows were broken and the stench of garbage filled the air, Hope saw Sally tying up a bunch of muscular men with a magic rope.
Sally glanced over and saw Hope "Princess what are you doing here?" she asked with dismay the rope holding the gangsters vanished they got up and shook of the dust and looked up and saw Hope and they all ran away in terror "Moonshine here run awway". All of a sudden all the people went indoors and the windows were sealed shut with wood and hammered with nails and just like that the place looked like a ghost town.

Ron Paul Redux: The Texan Congressman Has an Unlikely Intellectual Heir: Vivek Ramaswamy is running on Paul’s regressive libertarian populism

Remember that moment in the Republican presidential debate when one brash guy voiced some unorthodox positions, and the other candidates hastened to express their vigorous disagreement? Probably not. I mean, the debate took place in 2011, and that controversial Republican, Ron Paul, has largely faded from memory.
When he ran for the GOP nomination in 2008 and 2012, Paul came across as a rumpled gadfly voicing unvarni­shed opinions that put him on the fringes of the party. But today, at 88, he can look with pride on an ideological heir who is young, handsome and slick– and happens to be in perfect harmony with the modern Republican Party: No, not Rand Paul, Ron’s son, the three-term Republican Senator from Kentucky. It is the practicing Hindu and son of Indian immigrants: Vivek Ramaswamy.
Ramaswamy doesn’t look or act like the avuncular Texas obstetrician. Educated at Harvard and Yale, with a glib confidence and a physique suited to playing tennis shirtless, Ramaswamy could hardly be more different. But that’s on the surface. Put him and Paul together in a room and they would find plenty to agree on. Not only do both self-identify as libertarians, they represent the same flavor of populist paleolibertarianism. The main difference is that Paul was starkly at odds with the prevailing ideology of the GOP back then. Ramaswamy, on the other hand, is fluent in the language of today’s very different GOP.
Comrades In Arms
Paul railed against the federal government and particularly the central bankers at the Federal Reserve. He abhorred multilateral institutions, affirmative action, foreign aid, welfare, and environmental protection. He denounced NAFTA as a step toward a North American Union. He vowed to cut federal spending by $1 trillion in his first year and abolish five cabinet departments. His newsletter described Martin Luther King Jr. as “the man who replaced the evil of forced segregation with the evil of forced integration.” Paul later claimed that he didn’t write or approve such statements in the publication that bore his name. But his followers ate them up.
You can hear distinct echoes of much of this in Ramaswamy.
The 38-year-old pharmaceutical tycoon says he would eliminate the Department of Education, the IRS, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and the FBI, part of his unlikely plan to get rid of 75% of the federal workforce. He has said he would cut off aid to Ukraine and, in time, to Israel too – though he later reversed himself on the latter. Like Paul, he claims the “climate change agenda is a hoax.”
When a white gunman killed three Black people in Jacksonville, Florida, Ramaswamy, who likewise opposes affirmative action, put the blame not so much on the perpetrator but on racial preferences for creating “a new wave of anti-Black and anti-Hispanic racism in this country.” He suggested his running mate might be Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who is notorious for his anti-vaccine disinformation, popular in certain libertarian circles.
Ramaswamy has raised the possibility that government instigators were involved in the Jan. 6 insurrection. But you know who beat him to that? Ron Paul. (There is no evidence of that.)
Carrying Water for Trump
Ramaswamy says, “I don't think Donald Trump was the cause of Jan. 6,” ignoring a Himalayan pile of evidence confirming that he was thoroughly complicit in the Capitol insurrection. Without knowing the evidence that will emerge during Trump’s criminal trials—which Ramaswamy smears as “politicized prosecution”—he promises to grant the former president a full pardon. Oh, and he describes Trump as “the best president of the 21st century,” despite his unprecedented effort to overturn a free and fair democratic election.
Paul, meanwhile, has said little—if anything—about Trump’s role in inciting the Capitol mob. He has, however, slammed the Jan. 6 Congressional hearings as “insurrection theater” perpetrated by “desperate Democrats.”
On NBC’s “Meet the Press,” Ramaswamy outlined the following bizarre scenario if he were certifying the last election instead of Mike Pence: “Here’s what I would have said: ‘We need single-day voting on Election Day, we need paper ballots, and we need government-issued ID matching the voter file.’. . . In my capacity as president of the Senate, I would have led through that level of reform, then on that condition certified the election results, served it up to the president — President Trump — then to sign that into law. And on January 7th, declared the re-election campaign pursuant to a free and fair election.”
And then he would have ridden away on his purple unicorn. Ramaswamy’s alternative was not only idiotic but impossible, a tribute to either ignorance of the Constitution and the legislative process or breathtaking dishonesty. Paul had a reputation for being a kook given his many offbeat crusades. But Ramaswamy seems determined to outdo him.
On immigration too, Ramaswamy and Paul are remarkably aligned with each other and at odds with policy libertarians, who paleolibertarians deride as establishment elites. Paul was against a border wall—at least he said he was—whereas Ramaswamy, borrowing from Trump, has pledged to “close the southern border.” But Paul talked incessantly about eliminating the incentives for “illegal immigration,” to wit, easy welfare and easy birthright citizenship for the children of undocumented. In the same vein, Ramaswamy has pledged to push a constitutional amendment ending birthright citizenship if elected.
Ramaswamy: No Anti-War Warrior
But that’s not the only thing in the constitution Ramaswamy wants to amend. He’d also raise the voting age to 25, which would disenfranchise 31 million people—more than the population of Texas. That’s one way to address the Republican Party’s low esteem among 18-to-24 voters, 65% of whom voted for Joe Biden in 2020, though he may not have considered the electoral vengeance they would exact as soon as they turn 25.
Ramaswamy’s measure combines the anti-democratic with the coercive. Young adults could gain voting rights by passing a civics quiz or by spending six months in the military or “first responder service”—his goal being to “revive civic duty among Americans.” He has also advocated compulsory universal service for high school students on summer breaks in his book, Woke Inc.
Much of this, along with Ramaswamy’s embrace of the Monroe Doctrine as a warning to foreign powers such as China that “America comes First and that our hemisphere is not to be encroached by our adversaries,” would not thrill the Paulistas whose version of America Firstism consists of not spilling American blood for foreigners. Nor would they likely go along with Ramaswamy’s proposal to use military force to “annihilate the Mexican drug cartels” or his suggestion to make a firm commitment to defend Taiwan against a Chinese attack.
But paleolibertarian Paul fans would be four squares behind Ramaswamy on ceding Ukraine to Putin – the only Republican on the debate stage in favor of doing so.
Mainstreaming the Fringe
They would also be open to Ramaswamy’s conspiratorial turn of mind. Paul has tried to distance himself from the kooky theories peddled under his name in his newsletter—like when in the grimmest days of the AIDS epidemic, it accused gays of plotting to “poison the blood supply”—but Paul himself is on the record claiming that the U.S. government knew about 9/11 in advance but kept it a secret. In a similar vein, Ramaswamy also hinted­ at federal involvement in the attack but recanted later.
When Paul ran for the GOP nomination, his views were effectively disqualifying. In 2012, his best showing, he finished third in the Iowa caucuses and second in the New Hampshire primaries. He eventually ended up with 8% of the convention delegates, putting him fourth in the overall race. But like Pat Buchanan before him, he was never halfway plausible as the Republican presidential nominee. His role was provocateur, taking bold positions that let his rivals unite in denouncing him as dangerous and irresponsible.
Ramaswamy likewise found his opponents ganging up on him in the first Republican debate, with Nikki Haley, Chris Christie and Mike Pence doing their best to read him out of the race. But his views, despite their similarity to Paul’s, can no longer be derided as conservative heresy. In fact, his rivals seemed to be the ones defensive with GOP voters, which is no surprise given Trump retains the allegiance of 59% of them, according to a post-debate poll.
Ramaswamy isn’t likely to win the nomination. But if he loses, it won’t be because his views are too extreme for the party faithful who remain under the spell of Trump’s toxic populism. That’s why Ramaswamy has shrewdly declared, “I’m in this race to take the America First agenda far further than Donald Trump ever did.”
To that end, Ramaswamy has put out a 10-point statement of his convictions which include “God is real,” “there are two genders,” “reverse racism is racism,” and “an open border is no border,” all intended to signal his vehement opposition to the left.
Paul was against the cultural left too but he didn’t make that the center-point of his campaign because the GOP then wasn’t fighting the culture war 24/7. But post-Trump, the party is fully consumed by the leftist enemy and so what was implicit in Paul is now explicit in Ramaswamy.
In retrospect, Paul was less an outlier than a forerunner. In his candidacy were the seeds of a new version of a populist libertarian conservatism—rooted in a suspicion of ties with the rest of the world, racial paranoia, rejection of cultural liberalization, hostility toward almost every major national and international institution, a propensity for red-pill fantasies and a distrust of democracy.
What was fringe in Paul’s time is now the dominant strain in the GOP—and Ramaswamy is determined to be its champion.

What are your thoughts? This is obviously a bold claim & I’m not sure I fully agree with it.

Jazzhands is my tag here. YP4WX2 I have this weird superstition that I get better matchmaking if I play only one comp game every few hours so I usually play one after work and one in the night time before switching to another game. Lately I have been teetering on demotion protection hanging onto my plat 4. I’m happy with my rank honestly, and I feel like I get lucky with who I match against and I have peaked at plat 3. My personal goal is to reach diamond 5 on support. Help me get there! Specifics: I feel like I know what I’m going for with orb placements, but I feel like the aim assist is jerking right before I toss the orb. For example, damage orb thrown when approaching 2nd point on attack, jerks up and causes it to bounce outside instead of inside the studio, boooo. I felt really like I was going through the motions this game, taking 2 unnecessarily aggressive fades since the enemy wasn’t really doing anything to show they’d shut me down. Idk if it was productive but I felt like it was useful to be alone in the stairs before first point taking aggro from Ana and mauga so my team could keep hitting from the choke. I don’t feel like this was my best game and I feel like I had to correct myself mentally a few times to play cover and I felt some regret going for aggressive fades. All in all, looking to be a more calculated player that plays how I need to for plat. I don’t want to play lazy anymore.

*** this is based on a vivid dream I had but I turned into a longer story so some parts seem weird but it gets better as I do have multiple parts****
I had always known my family was strange, but I never imagined the extent of it until I visited my dad and the kids. The house was tucked away in a remote corner of the countryside, surrounded by dense woods that seemed to close in the deeper you ventured. It was a place that felt untouched by time, and I arrived under the heavy weight of an unshakable unease. At first, everything appeared normal. My dad was his usual self, watching me chat with my cousins and friends. I noticed Danielle around, her presence shadowy and unsettling. Were she and my dad married now? It was unclear, but there was something odd about the way they interacted. As evening descended, the atmosphere grew tense. The kids, who had been playing happily, began to act strangely. One of them, who wasn't my brother or sister, clung to me, jumping up and down and then wrapping themselves around my leg like a terrified monkey. Their eyes were wide, darting nervously around the room. My dad walked by, his face drawn with weariness. "Well, this is where the freaking family starts. Same shit happens every day," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. I asked him, "Here?" trying to understand what he meant, but he only sighed. "You're going to stay here for the year, pretending to be my wife so no one gets suspicious," he said matter-of-factly. My heart sank. I needed to call Momma J, but when I tried, all I could get out were quick hellos before the signal crapped out. Dad warned me not to mention anything bad or what he had just said. I decided to go outside, hoping for a moment of clarity. As I walked down the patio stairs, I noticed an unusual number of people gathered at the front gates. It was unsettling. I turned back and headed quickly to the backyard, trying to make sense of the situation. That's when Charles, my father's friend, called my name. "Now you can stay here for three years, and I'm gonna be your husband," he declared with a chilling grin. "No! You’re my dad!" I screamed, horrified by his words. His face twisted with anger as he stomped towards me, cursing. "You won't have a phone for a year!" he shouted, reaching to grab it from me. Fear fueled my adrenaline, and I dodged him, running as fast as I could. I sprinted past Dom and Mark, who seemed oblivious to the chaos. I burst through a side door, only to find myself in a dark, narrow hallway that led to a decrepit building adjacent to the house. There, a group of investigators from Siegel were inspecting the premises. Desperately, I turned around to see if there was another way out, but the door I had come through was closed. The air grew thick with dread, and I realized I was trapped. The investigators moved methodically, examining every nook and cranny. They hadn’t noticed me yet. I hid behind a crumbling wall, my breath coming in shallow gasps. From my hiding spot, I could hear Charles and my dad discussing their plans. Their voices were low and conspiratorial, filled with a sinister edge that sent shivers down my spine. "This is all part of it," Charles was saying. "The isolation, the manipulation. It's how we keep control." I peeked out, trying to make sense of their conversation. They mentioned a hidden room in the basement, a place where they kept those who tried to escape or defy their twisted rules. My heart pounded as I realized the true horror of my situation. I wasn’t just a pawn in a bizarre family ruse; I was a prisoner in a house of secrets and unspeakable evil. Summoning all my courage, I crept towards the investigators. I had to get their attention without alerting Charles or my dad. As I neared them, I accidentally knocked over a stack of old books. The sound echoed through the hallway. One of the investigators turned and saw me. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Please, help me," I whispered urgently. "They’re not what they seem." Before he could respond, Charles and my dad burst into the room. Their faces contorted with rage and panic. "What are you doing here?" my dad snarled at the investigators. "Step away from her," one of the investigators demanded, pulling out a badge. "We’re with Siegel Investigations. We’ve had reports of suspicious activity here." Charles lunged at me, but the investigators intervened, quickly restraining him and my dad. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as I realized this was only the beginning. The house held many more secrets, and I had just scratched the surface. As the investigators led us out, I caught a glimpse of Danielle standing in the shadows, her eyes hollow and filled with fear. She mouthed something to me, but I couldn’t make it out. One thing was clear: the horror that had plagued this house was far from over, and its darkness had only just begun to unravel.

For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

I don't know how to say this, but I want to leave my Q and have full custody of my child. My Q has been throwing my disability in my face and taunting me about how I can't take care of our child by myself. It makes me rage out because my physical illness ties in with a lot of trauma and I think I'm still dealing with postpartum. I feel so angry all of the time and this isn't me.
I told my Q I don't want to have sex with someone under the influence and my Q keeps just leading me into it and I find out that he's been drinking after and it fucks with me so badly. I feel sexually assaulted. I just want someone to want me without needing to be fucked up, sometimes I think I'm ugly and that's why my Q does it.
My Q's mask totally dropped when I hid my money and cards. Was punching the wall. I even saw him frantically looking through his pockets last night. Been sulking in bed and throwing up ever since from you know alcohol withdrawal. I already told my Q to go to rehab or detox, is refusing. Missed my child's appointment today because my Q refused to help me. I'm a no call, no show because I am having issues with the app to contact docs and my phone is messed up.
I want my Q out, without even trying to look for his stash, I found it tonight. Three empty vodka bottles where I couldn't reach. I took a picture, too.
Sometimes my brain screams that my Q is using me for a place to live and is unemployed intentionally. I am the only person on the lease. I don't know the laws but I think my Q waited 30 days to go on a full on binge, knowing I'd lose my shit and demand him to be gone. Today, my Q is demanding an eviction notice and refusing to leave.
Today my Q told me that I don't care, that I never go to meetings... I think this is projection and deflection and I tried today. Today I tried for my own sanity. Jokes on me because I was on my way to an NA meeting, not Nar-Anon/Al-Anon. Instead I ate my feelings and took the scenic route. I was reminded there is a whole WORLD outside of this stupid relationship. Men were hitting on me after my Q insinuated that no one would want me.
I told my Q to feed our child while I was gone or else my Q would be out sooner than he thinks. Came back and I knew my Q didn't feed our baby. High chair wasn't moved, straps were still on the counter. Table exactly as I left it. This pathetic person lied to my face boldly. My child woke up screaming from not eating in hours. I'm certain my Q lies about feeding our child this morning, but I couldn't tell. I am not going to lie, this sent me over the edge and swung on my Q over this. Closed fists. I feel crazy. Maybe I am fucking crazy. I don't feel like myself anymore.
All the taunts, all the digs at what I can't do anymore, all the guilt trips about how I'm a burden and my Q is worried for our child and most recently, the way he neglects our child to spite me (so i cant leave the house?). I was crying hysterically the other night and questioning my reality.
This is so bad for my health and I feel like an awful mother for bringing a child into this. I didn't have my child to keep my Q sober. My Q lied to me. I had my child because I didn't know if I would be able to because I was miscarriage prone. My child is the reason I was diagnosed.
My Q is angry over having to pull groceries up two small flights of stairs and a stroller. These are the things thrown in my face. My Q has probably been drinking the whole time the more I think of it. Laid in a bed for 6 days claiming to be tired but wouldn't see a doctor. But when I was angry over it, I'm a "crazy person" who is accusing someone of using when they're not. And my Q was.
I want a restraining order but I feel like this makes me look like a bad mother. I fear reporting this, I don't want to lose my child. I just wanted to go to a fucking meeting so I wouldn't feel alone and my Q punished me for it using my child. Now I can't leave the house? I don't even know how to report this. I want my Q gone and my Q won't contact family to pick him up. Saying he has nowhere else to go. That I'm abusive. I can't hold boundaries my way out of this, leaving my child with my Q is endangering my child. I'm so scared. Sometimes my Q is drinking so much that he can't even walk straight. I have no one near me to lean on.

I bought a living room set, and the couch just will not fit up the stairs. I want to get it in through the balcony.
I've seen people use ropes to pull one up, but they tend to rely on the railing (ours is wimpy) and having a group of people work on it (we don't have any friends that would be useful for this). Is there another way I'm not thinking of? Can I rent a forklift/other lifting tool someplace? My other option is to return the set, and I'd be out a few hundred dollars on restocking fees, so paying a bit to rent equipment is fine with me.
I really appreciate any advice!

I bought a living room set, and the couch just will not fit up the stairs. I want to get it in through the balcony.
I've seen people use ropes to pull one up, but they tend to rely on the railing (ours is wimpy) and having a group of people work on it (we don't have any friends that would be useful for this). Is there another way I'm not thinking of? Can I rent a forklift/other lifting tool someplace? My other option is to return the set, and I'd be out a few hundred dollars on restocking fees, so paying a bit to rent equipment is fine with me.
I really appreciate any advice!

It's a cold, dark knight in the town of Newbury, and the civilians were out and about, living their normal lives.
It's currently 4 hours after the Newbury Library has closed for the night, and the security guards were at work protecting the place from thieves, but little did they know, thieves were the least of the worries. A guard named Paul was resting in the Computer Lab while eating an egg salad sandwich without a care in the world. He radios in to ask the others if they've seen anything, but the walkie talkie appears to be malfunctioning and even starts bleeding something green. He begins to get nervous but sucks it up, and then he goes into the Juvenile Reading Center to investigate an odd sound.
Paul enters Juvenile Reading Center and the looks around the bookshelves for signs of a break in, but only finds an odd, orange glow coming from the bathroom. Paul walks in but finds no sight of any glow. He starts hearing banging coming from the third-to-last stall, and opens it to find nothing. Suddenly, he hears screaming coming from the second floor and rushes to find on of his partners, Holland standing in the middle of the hall, staring at nothing.
He slowly walks up to him to see if he's ok, but suddenly Holland turns around and reveals that his face was green and demonic looking. Paul gets scared and runs back down stairs with Holland in hot pursuit. He reaches the front entrance but the door gets blocked off by large bookshelves. The monstrous Holland gets closer and closer to Paul, but gets slapped in the face with Paul's sandwich and start writhing in pain due to the salt in the eggs.
Paul checks to see if he is alright until he hears the sound of someone shushing coming from the bookshelf to the right of the reception desk. He notices a trail of pink goo leading to an empty slot in the paranormal catalogue. A bright pink glow appears behind Paul as he turns around and screams in horror. Meanwhile outside, a dark silhouette is watching the chaos unfold while stuffing the stolen book into his coat.
The dark figure begins chuckling maliciously as green fog forms into the title. Just like that, a new dark chapter in Newbury's history, and one that will reignite an old band of heroes.