Hi all. I had my tonsillectomy on the morning of May 16th and I thought I’d share my recovery so far!
Background: I (24F) have always had very large tonsils since I was young. As a kid, I would constantly get strep throat but that died down as I got older. Honestly, I thought my abnormally large tonsils were just my normal. Well November 2023 I got very sick with the flu. I had body chills, muscle aches, and a horrible sore throat with extremely swollen tonsils (somehow even bigger than they have been my whole life)! Given my tonsils history, I was not that concerned and figured they would go back to normal. After a few weeks the tonsils still had not returned back to normal and my voice was affected, I was snoring and having to breathe through my mouth, and in the following months I would get sick constantly. Also, my cardiovascular health just plummeted which was shocking because I was in the best shape of my life having ran a marathon the month prior. Anyways, I went to a very well respected ENT in my city and when I opened my mouth he said “Holy shit, those are the biggest tonsils I have ever seen. How do you breathe? How do you sleep?” And he proceeded to pull every nurse and doctor in the room to look at them! He even took a photo to use as a case study as he teaches at a university haha. Anyways, months later on May 16 I finally had my tonsillectomy!
Day 1/2: I woke up from my tonsillectomy at around 9:30 AM with no issues. I had never been put under before and was surprised at how well I felt! My doctor uses local anesthesia as well as general so I had a hard time swallowing water when the nurse offered me some. I took a percocet that they offered me, got dressed and was on my way home by 10:15. About halfway through my 30 minute drive I thought I was going to throw up because I was very overheated but as soon as I blasted the ac I was fine. Immediately after getting in the car I started chugging ice water that had re-lyte electrolyte powder in it. When I got home I ate eggs scrambled with cottage cheese which was very easy to eat and swallow. My pain stayed low throughout the day, and at this time I was just taking Tylenol every 4-6 hours. I ate more eggs that night, Costco Mac and cheese, and had a lot of popsicles as well. I woke up on day 2 (I’m counting surgery day as day 1) with still very little pain. My surgeon at this point had OKed me to take ibuprofen so I started that at 10 AM. Since then I’ve been taking 400 mg of ibuprofen and 500 mg of Tylenol rotating every 4 hours. So I take each 3 times a day. I had very little pain on day 2. I ate eggs, popsicles, a peanut butter sandwich, Mac and cheese, and a California roll and miso soup. My only regret was putting wasabi on the California roll! Haha. At this point I know the worst is ahead of me
Day 3/4: the mornings on these two days have been rough compared to the last two days, but never not manageable! My uvula is huge and so is my tongue. Day 3 I didn’t want to eat, and today, day 4, I have been a bit better. As the day progresses my pain gets much better! On day 3, I made Pastina and that was so easy to eat and felt amazing on my throat! I also had two poached eggs and shredded hashbrowns which I didn’t brown very much so they were still soft. Day 4 I’ve ate watermelon, avocado, and more Pastina. I just now ate a whole cup of ice in an attempt to make the swelling in my tongue go down. I have been drinking at least 3 32oz hydroflask worth of water a day. And I put 1 scoop of re-lyte electrolyte powder and 1 scoop of Laird dehydrated coconut water in each bottle which I truly think has helped me stay so hydrated. Once again, I know the worst of the pain is ahead of me but so far it has not been unmanageable at all. I will update as the days go by!

Hi I’m new here, I live in Indiana, may 3rd my family and I went on a hike in a marsh area, and we walked into a giant tick mess. I’ve never seen a tick in my life before this, even being an outdoors person. We had hundreds on us, from head to toe, and we were miles away from our car. We stripped down and got as many off of us as we could find, when we got home, I had two attached to me, one deep enough that it stung when we got it off. But no rashes or anything followed. Except days later, I started getting more tired, didn’t put two and two together and honestly completely forgot about the whole situation. It was harder for me to wake in the morning, and I was just more fatigued during the day, I workout 6 days a week and found it harder to workout. About 2 weeks go by, and my fatigue is out of this world. I can fall asleep any second, I struggle to even move. A few days ago, I started getting severe muscle fatigue, like my arms feel like I’m carrying weights, definitely something I’ve never experienced before, I decided to see my dr and bring up the ticks, she immediately thought I have Lyme, she said this is too much of a coincidence to not be. I’m waiting blood tests but I’m feeling worse each day, now my body aches, and my neck is stiff and hurts, my stomach is constantly hurting. I feel like I have motion sickness 24/7, like that weakness and nausea that comes with motion sickness, that exact feeling. I’m just questioning everything though, what are the odds that a tick on me probably less than 2 hours gave me Lyme? Unless I missed one and it stayed attached longer than that, which could be a possibly having so many on us. I’m hoping this is just a bug of some sort, and so does my dr. My other blood work looks great, so no signs of infection or anything. My ast has doubled (still in normal range though) than what it was 6 months ago, it went from 15 to 32, which is the highest it’s ever been for me personally. That’s the only thing that stuck out to me that’s different on my blood work. I was prescribed doxycycline on Friday, went to pick it up and was informed that it’s not safe to take while breastfeeding and I nurse my son. I’m calling tomorrow to ask to be put on something safe, because it would take to long to wean and I want to be treated asap. Thank you for taking the time to read.

You never know the pull of a small town until you trade your entire life to live in one.
Dazzling city lights made way for grassy fields blanketed in soft sunsets, local papers filled with names I knew by heart. When the honeyed hair of the local florist came out in patches due to the stresses of life, sixty people brought steaming bowls of food to ease the ache. A singular church brought the townsfolk together, and perhaps that was the most foreign part of it all to me.
I was a kid, so I watched the entire thing unfold through the innocent lens of child, keenly watching the camaraderie of this town really peak outside the doors of that church. It didn’t look like much, a steepled dream imagined by the townsfolk of before, but it meant everything to the people. I even understood that back then, even though I didn’t quite buy the concept of a god yet.
The Sundays were a monotonous part of our week, only pedalled by my parents who desperately wanted to fit in with the town’s culture. They wore their masks well, nodding in the right places as we sat in the same pew every time, my father often discreetly checking the football scores in the sleeve of his jumper. Nothing ever happened in that tiny town, and then everything happened all at once.
It started with the miracles. Our pastor, Pastor Jon, liked to have the troubled souls of that week sitting in the front row so he could clutch their shaking hands one by one, channelling the energy of God through him in the hope that someday, hope could be brought to those lacking in it. It was a brief affair, usually just the joining of skin and a short prayer, but that Sunday was different. Rain hammered against the roof, leaving Pastor Jon’s prayers lost in the low, threatening rumble of thunder.
It meant when the sun shone through the clouds and caressed the face of a pained Wilson Brewster, it already felt a welcome intrusion.
“May your broken leg heal quickly,” Pastor Jon smiled warmly, steeling a hand on the calf of the waiting boy.
He, like me, was just a child. He didn’t feel the urgency of the situation, he was probably only grateful his throbbing leg wasn’t pulsating with pain anymore. He breathed a quiet ‘cool’ and that would have been that, had his parents not asked exactly what was cool about his leg being touched later that night. The news spread like wildfire - as per the medical centre, his parents said, Wilson Brewster no longer had a broken fibula.
There was some debate, of course. My parents mumbled in the kitchen about how clearly he’d never had a broken leg, and how odd to make him hobble around in a cast if that was the case. The sentiment was echoed tenfold, until something a little more tangible happened that changed the course of that town, and our lives, forever.
Pastor Jon didn’t mean for the glass to shatter in his hand during service, nor did he mean for a chunk of it to embed itself in his palm, gushing reams of blood racing down his arm in a bid for the floor.
“Gross!” one of the kids shouted with glee, the rest of us paling as crimson spilled from his wound. He was a deer in the headlights, utterly unprepared as we all looked on in awe. This was not how church usually went - this was quite the deviation. Several people stood to help, but they needn’t have bothered, because the divine was ready to intervene.
“Oh dear,” Pastor Jon muttered in a panic, using his bloodied hand to block the intense ray of sunlight threatening to stream through the glass into his eyes. It bathed the blood in a golden glow, and quicker than it had gone in, the chunk of glass began to slide from the wound till it smashed to the floor, exploding into a million pieces. That was not the crescendo, though, rather it was the sight of his skin tightening and knitting together - months of work in a moment - blood congealing and leaving behind nothing but memories of a wound.
“Pastor?” Mary-who-makes-the-blueberry-pies breathed, reaching out to touch him with bulging eyes. Pastor Jon could only open and close his mouth uselessly, his voice barely coming out in a whisper when he did finally speak.
“It’s a miracle,” he wheezed, and by all accounts, I suppose it seemed it was.
I was young, but I remember the bustle - the town was as I’d never seen it. The people of the church had vowed to keep it our little secret because, as Pastor Jon said, we had been given a gift and it was not appropriate to turn it into a spectacle. This gift was sporadic, though. People queued through the double doors of that church, sobbing and praying for their own slice of God, but few were to be given it. Little Laurie Lee and her dislocated jaw cleared up within the hour. Farmer Noel had a sudden epiphany about what the lottery numbers were to be.
Our town was blessed.
For two days, we marvelled. The rest of the world can have a piece later, we reasoned, but this was for us, just for now.
The church was fuller than it had ever been, people spilling out into the back and waiting with baited breath, snippets of conversations could be heard, and as they had been for the last two days, they all echoed one another.
“-a believer. I mean, Aunt Lillian said it was the light. The light closed up his wound, there and then!”
“-jaw. I saw her get hit with the cricket bat! Terrible thing, little lamb was inconsolable. And then next thing I know, she comes here and those shards are just welded back together again! Well, I told Janie-”
“-need to make the church bigger. Look at everyone! If only-”
So when Pastor Jon stood before us practically trembling with glee, it was hardly the weirdest thing that had happened all week. His voice was thick with emotion, eyes darting manically around our congregation.
“I have a message,” he breathed, and the crowd gasped at the connotation of it. I remember my father swearing, a low rumble of expletives I didn’t usually hear falling from his lips. I didn’t fully understand what this meant, but the atmosphere in that room morphed in a heartbeat.
“Tell us,” Christie Baker cried, hands clasped as tears welled in her eyes, “Oh, please tell us!”
Pastor Jon visibly shook, holding a trembling hand outstretched as if to reach us all. “He came to me last night,” a single tear raced past his cheek and made a home on his lip, “He spoke to me.”
“Praise God!” a man cried from next to me, and I shuffled closer to my father at the sudden burst of noise.
“It is… Him,” Pastor Jon uttered in a blissful exhale, sending the room bursting into chaos. Tears, cheers and prayers filled the space, but my father just clutched me tighter and my stomach churned uncomfortably. It took at least ten minutes for the room to quieten, but when it did, he had their rapt attention. “I am told that I will be His vessel. I will pass on what must be passed. We are not to spread the word, yet - only our pocket of civilization is ready. Only ours.”
You could replicate what happened a thousand times, and somebody would mess it up, sending a message of the divine to their great aunt in Auckland. But not us. That secret stayed within the confines of our town for the sixteen days hell shined upwards at us. Everybody had a thousand questions, but Pastor Jon only hushed us. “You must trust me,” he said, tone more regal than I’d ever heard it. And trust him the people did.
So on the second day when he returned to church and his eyes were dark-rimmed, nobody questioned it. He was chosen. Who knows what that does to a person’s sleep cycle? The following day when he went for his morning walk and the smile didn’t quite reach his hollow eyes, that was fine. He was a vessel, not a performer. And then that morning at church when he addressed us and kept rubbing the angry red welts on his wrists, who were we to ask questions of God’s messenger?
Nothing went terribly wrong until the baptisms. We all wanted to be part of this - even my anxious parents who signed me up to be bathed in holy water - and so we queued towards the front of the church, eager to hand ourselves over. I was second in line, right behind Mrs Awkins who had been the school nurse for the last 26 years, apparently. She was gleeful as Pastor Jon set up, speaking rhymes I barely listened to as I bounced on the balls of my feet, eager to go next. My stomach flipped at the words, knowing that my turn was only seconds away. People wouldn’t usually queue, but this was different. It was all different, now.
“I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
I didn’t expect the awful fizzing noise the liquid made as it hit Nurse Awkins’ head, nor did I expect the guttural wail that fell from her lips as she clawed at her own scalp. Smoke billowed up from her disappearing tresses and as I was yanked backwards, I caught a glimpse of her exposed skull. Most people will go their entire lives without the smell of burning flesh lingering in their nostrils, but not me.
“I- No! That wasn’t- oh!” Pastor Jon had cried, tired eyes bulging out of his head as people leapt to their feet to assist.
It was carnage, but not carnage I witnessed for long. My mother’s grip on my arm was vice-like, her eyes swimming with terror I know still plagues her to this day. I recall my father on the walk home, murmuring to my mother in low tones I wasn’t meant to hear.
“This isn’t right, Rach’. Jesus, did you see her? That was almost our son!”
My mum’s voice was shrill, the sound of her heels clacking against the pavement not quite masking her voice. “The police will be called - we don’t even know if she’ll survive! I think I’m going to throw up.”
But she was wrong on both counts. She didn’t throw up and the police weren’t called, because we rallied together. This was bigger than us and bigger than Mrs Awkins. Sure, nobody else tried to get baptised, but this was a blip. People surmised that the almighty didn’t want her as part of his flock, that she hadn’t been a believer when it mattered. Nobody was to utter a word about it, and because church was every morning now, my parents were almost too scared not to go. As a child, I didn’t understand it, but all these years later, I think I’d have bent to the fear of the almighty as well.
But it wasn’t the almighty who knocked on the door.
It became all the clearer that morning when Pastor Jon turned up with eyes so sunken and empty that we startled at his presence.
“Pastor.. Pastor, are you feeling alright?” one of our neighbours fussed, “Will you be okay for service?”
Pastor Jon didn’t answer. It was almost as though he didn’t hear her as he dragged his feet up to the front, turning so slowly towards us that it almost felt eerie. A large, jagged and bloodied cut spanned the entire back of his neck, disappearing behind him as he eyed us all, one by one.
“He’s here,” he murmured, words that on paper, should have sent the entire church reeling with joy. But you could hear a pin drop. You could hear any soul whisper in the large room, and yet his utterance only caused goosebumps to spread across my skin as a sort of icy stillness washed over me.
“He’s… here?” a woman in the front row asked, and Pastor Jon took too long to answer. An unnatural, slow smile spread across his face as he tilted his head towards the source of the noise. He didn’t respond, instead slowly lifting his hand to his lips, letting his finger linger there for a moment. When nobody spoke, he let his mouth fall open and began to chew loudly on the finger, drawing gasps from the crowd.
“Don’t look,” my mother shimmied closer to me and lifted a trembling hand to my eyes, but I could see through the cracks in her fingers. Pastor Jon continued to sloppily chew his finger, eventually snapping his head up and inhaling sharply as he spat blood out of his mouth.
“Your bodies are so fragile,” he sneered, lifting his dripping finger to the skies, causing several people to leap from their seats and make a bolt for it. My mother was one of them, and with horror, I watched as the Pastor’s eyes scanned the room and locked onto mine, tilting his head. “Stay,” he hissed with bared, bloody teeth, and we did. Not through choice, but rather, a sickening whoosh of air that skimmed past our faces and forced us all back down.
“What’s going on?” someone shrieked, but we weren’t to know, not really.
Pastor Jon only smiled blissfully, reaching his arms outwards as if to accept us. “I’ve come to bless you all,” he whispered mockingly, fingers outstretched as the sun hit the stained glass to the left of him. But it was all wrong. Sunshine streamed in and as it hit the red of a decorated sunrise, an image which had been there years before us, the colour changed. It was only moments until the church had the appearance of being bathed in blood, shimmering red bouncing off every surface to create the illusion we were all swimming in hell.
Nobody spoke.
Those who didn’t quite make it to the doors stood frozen; we who remained in our seats cowered in the heaviest kind of fear. Red drowned us and we clutched one another, eyeing Pastor Jon as though he were a wild animal. Finally, someone dared speak.
“Where is God?” he murmured, eyes swimming. Pastor Jon’s neck snapped towards him as he licked the blood from his finger, shuddering. When he spoke, his words were cold, distant. As though they were from somewhere else entirely.
“He hasn’t been around for a while.”
There was no time for his words to punch at my stomach, because in no time at all Pastor Jon was crumpled on the floor, wailing as he regarded his chewed, bloody finger. The bone was exposed and yet nobody helped him as he looked at us pleadingly, too many eyes on him as his whimpers turned to whispers. When he spoke, we listened.
“You need to keep coming to church,” he breathed, a single, bloody tear trickling down his cheek, “It will be worse if we don’t.”
So we did.
The Sunday Fair was cancelled, and pies that had been baked to share in sunny gardens went stale and grew mould. People packed duffel bags and made for their cars, arguing fiercely with those who decided to stay. My mother and father disagreed, but their argument was far more muted.
“Please, we have to go,” my father pleaded, shaking his head as I watched from the shadows, “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck that was-”
“I can’t explain it,” her voice was shaken, quiet, “But I know it will be worse if we go. I know it. Please just trust me. Trust Jon.”
So as my father always did, he believed in my mother. Each day in church was torturous, everyone sitting rigid with fear as Pastor Jon read slowly and shakily from the bible, bruises littering his gaunt body. When the holy book in his hands would launch into flames, he’d calmly drop it into the bucket of water he’d prepared and retrieve a new one. One time, every window in the church smashed and we all winced, ducking to avoid the onslaught of glass.
Darkness watched us.
We all felt it, and I know it visited members of the flock in the shadows. I was plagued by it one particularly torturous night as I lay in bed, blanketed in darkness with the covers pulled up to my chin. I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling I was being stared upon, squeezing my eyes shut as laboured, wet breaths left my body. But they weren’t my breaths.
I’d realised it straight away, that my hurried gasps for air didn’t match the gargling, strangled heaving that echoed around my head. From under the covers, I didn’t know much, but I knew one thing - the uncomfortable, heavy presence laying on my legs was my only source of comfort. Through all this, I reasoned, that if my beloved dog was with me, hell itself couldn’t come and claim me.
But I was wrong, because outside, my dog howled into the night.
Terror like that wasn’t something I’d felt before, and as my stomach bottomed out, I stopped breathing altogether. It must have sensed my fear, because those gargling breaths heaved closer and closer to my face as it dragged itself up my body, inch by inch. The smell of rot and ash burned into my nostrils, a horrific weight settling above my nose as my lungs started working again, so quickly that I would surely die then and there. If it had a face, it was twisted and pressed into mine, the thin bedcover my only source of protection.
But I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move, so I let it pant gravelly air into my face, let it lay on top of me for hour after hour, till the birdsong indicated morning had come. All night I sobbed stifled cries, chest shaking as I squeezed my eyes shut and felt it pressing into me. Felt it hating me, felt it wanting to rip its claws into my stomach and pull out my intestines. But it didn’t. And when I awoke late the next morning - I must have passed out through fear alone - it was gone.
The rest is all a bit of a trauma-soaked blur, to be honest. I know my parents couldn’t understand why I wasn’t speaking the next day, why I barely reacted when evil finally descended that morning at church. The rest of the townsfolk screamed for their lives, ran as fast as they could, but I just stared with a hollow, broken gaze. As the rivers of blood waterfalled down between the pews, I watched Pastor Jon’s eyes grow dark as midnight, empty and soulless as he bellowed inside those four walls and called upon something worse than any of us could likely ever imagine.
I recall the fire starting, remember Pastor Jon’s slack jaw as he regarded us all so horribly, moving jaggedly towards my family with a growing demonic, gleeful grin.
“I remember you from last night,” he’d uttered darkly, but his voice came out in a thousand jarring layers and I could see hell in his eyes.
“Leave us alone!” my father tried to shield us, lifting a crucifix and wielding it towards Pastor Jon as though it would protect us. He simply laughed, an awful noise of horrific dissonance that I still sometimes hear alone in my bed at night. In complete horror, my parents could only watch as this thing wrenched the crucifix from my father’s hand, grinning as his jaw split and shattered each second he opened it impossibly wider. The sound of his bones cracking reverberated as his skin split and his mouth gaped, wide enough to drop the crucifix right into his waiting, blood-soaked mouth and swallow it, right in front of us.
When he met our gaze, his broken jaw hung limply from his face, sad morsels of skin stitching a once-good man together. Whatever blur those hours were, that, I remember.
It was an anti-climax, really, because while I expected him to descend upon us all and rip us into thousands of pieces, he simply boomed his words, jaw still hanging as his evil spoke directly into our souls.
“When I return in 20 years, it is not just your small town that will bleed.”
Pastor Jon has been missing for 20 years. I’m not sure when he started his countdown, but I awoke this morning with a dread so sickening that I’ve barely stopped emptying my stomach. If it’s over and the earth turns to rubble, I hope somebody finds this and can at least piece together why it all came to a sad, premature end. We townsfolk kept our vow of quiet for this long, but there comes a point when silence is deadly.
I think today, Pastor Jon will be found.

(19M, 5'9 155 lbs.) Hi, this is gonna be a bit long, but let me explain the entire situation so far:
Going back about a year or so, I started noticing an elevated heart rate above what I usually would have. I have an apple watch that allows me to check my heart rate, and around this time I started to get notifications that my heart rate was above average (in the 120s to 130s range while resting as opposed to my normal 60-80 range). This happened a few times along with some very minor chest pain / tightness, however after laying down for a few hours / going to bed it would usually return to normal. Around the same time I got diagnosed with anxiety and ADHD and placed on an SSRI to help my anxiety after trying ADHD meds and not liking them. I never really had any incidents with high heart rate after that, so I had assumed it was just anxiety causing it (and that may still be the case). A few months went by and I ended up starting college and got myself a girlfriend. As I ended up finding out, SSRIs, while great, have the unfortunate side effect of erectile dysfunction, so I weaned off my meds so I could prioritize my love life. There were a few incidents after this where my heart rate was above average, but again I just chalked this up to anxiety, as it would usually go away on its own. At one point I went into my on campus doctor's office just to verify my heart was okay after an elevated heart rate the night before, and they gave me an EKG which came up clear. Months go by, and things are fine, besides a slight uptick in anxiety. Unfortunately however, my relationship began to crumble and my anxiety skyrocketed, and we eventually broke up, which led me to talking to my doctor and getting placed back on anxiety medication. However, I really didn't like how SSRI's impacted my libido, so after trying a few more SSRI's I was placed on Buspirone. I love Buspirone, and it's made a noticeable difference on my confidence / reducing anxiety. When I take my full dose at once (30 mg), I tend to get a bit dizzy / nauseous, however when split up into 10 mg taken at breakfast lunch and dinner I have no noticeable side effects. I will say (and I don't know if this is in any way important but I'm just naming everything possible), I have noticed that since stopping the SSRIs and starting Buspirone I tend to ejaculate VERY fast which is abnormal for me, and although I would like to fix that it is not my main concern. Moving on though, after about a month or two after being placed on Buspirone, we get to where my heart problems start. As someone who had never used any substances my entire life, leaving home and going to college gave me the freedom to try new things, and although I know it's not great, on weekends me and my friends will get together and drink or occasionally smoke weed / take an edible. I was worried at first about interactions with my medication, but after some research all anything online could tell me was that I may get drunk faster / more nauseous and dizzy, which wasn't too big of a deal for me. I had tried weed earlier in college and didn't like the way it made me feel, however after being placed on Buspirone I decided to try it again and actually enjoyed the feeling, so I started doing it more on the weekends as opposed to just drinking, which leads us to the incident. Me and some friends had just sat down to watch a movie, and all taken an edible. Time passed, and I started to notice that my heart rate was extremely elevated, way more than I was usually used to. I checked my heart rate, and found that my watch was displaying an average of 160 bpm. At first I thought I was just having a bad high and tried to calm myself. I laid on the floor and put some ice on my forehead, but nothing was helping. I checked my heart rate again and saw that my watch was displaying 190, which really freaked me out as that was way higher than I had ever seen before. I had my sober friend call Public Safety for me, and they came to my dorm room and did a basic check up on me. They said that I had a fever, and when they took my heart rate they got something in the 160s range. Their explanation was that my anxiety, when combined with being high and likely being sick made my heart rate elevated, which made sense at the time. I went into my college's health services to follow up the next day since my heart rate was still elevated (in the 120s-130s range), however they again told me it was probably just anxiety. A few days went by and my heart rate was STILL above average, so I decided to double check with my real doctor off campus. About a day before this I had also stopped taking my medication to see if it could be the cause for my elevated heart rate. The doctors took my vitals and immediately noticed that had very high blood pressure and an elevated heart rate, to the point where they sent in a second doctor to recheck my vitals and make sure it was correct. After talking to me and having me give a run down of my symptoms, they had me schedule an appointment with a cardiologist and told me that if I ever experience chest pain and a heart rate above 100 bpm that wouldn't go down to go to the hospital. I had also told them about how I stopped taking my medication and they told me that that was fine and to tell the cardiologist about it. About a week passes, and I have my cardiologist appointment in a few days. I had been up the night before working on my final exams, so I hadn't gotten much sleep, and besides a breakfast sandwich that I had for lunch I hadn't eaten much either. I had been experiencing chest pain all day, but I assumed it was being caused by my lack of sleep, so after classes I went and took a nap. After a few hours I woke up, and immediately noticed that I still had chest pain. I checked my apple watch, and my heart rate was displaying roughly 90-110 bpm while laying down, which on top of the chest pain made me worried since my doctor had told me that that was cause to go to the hospital. I called my parents to tell them about it, and they drove to the school and had me sit in the car and eat some food they had made to see if it would help at all. However, even after this, my heart rate was still above 100 bpm and I still had chest pain, so my mom made the call to bring me to the hospital. While on the way to the hospital, out of nowhere my heart rate increased to about 170-180 bpm, which freaked me out. We arrived at the hospital, and they immediately gave me an EKG to make sure I wasn't going to drop dead. During this time, I also was shaking a lot and couldn't make myself stop. Eventually they took me into a room and decided to run some tests on me. The tests they did are as follows: BASIC METABOLIC PANEL, CBC WITH DIFF, TROPONIN NH, D DIMER DEEP VEIN THROMB LEVEL, TSH REFLEX, X-RAY CHEST PA AND LATERAL, and ECG-12 LEAD. While I'm not a doctor, from what they told me and from what I can see, everything turned up pretty normal. My potassium was a smidge low, as well as my MCV and MPV, and my Monocyte (absolute) was a tad high, but generally nothing to worry about. The website where I'm viewing my test results display my ECG as abnormal and an attached document says I have left atrial enlargement as well as sinus tachycardia, but they only mentioned sinus tachycardia in the hospital so I assume that it was just the machine reading my test results and giving its own diagnosis. Long story short though, I left the hospital a few hours later, and although I still had a slightly elevated heart rate they said I was fine to go about life normally and to follow up with my cardiologist. Cut to the present, and I just met with my cardiologist a couple days ago. I gave him the general rundown of the above story (but didn't mention the edible as a precursor to the 190 bpm heartrate as my mom was in the next room over and the door was wide open), and after checking my vitals he told me that although I did have an elevated heart rate and high blood pressure, my chest pain probably wasn't a huge concern and that he wasn't too worried it was anything life threatening. He told me I could resume taking my meds (which I had temporarily replaced with ashwagandha supplements while I waited for the appointment and have since stopped taking), and had me wear a little device that monitored my heart rate for 24 hours, which I'm set to return in a couple days. He also told me that when I returned it he would check my results and give me an echocardiogram and go from there. So, with any luck, he should be able to figure things out then. However, I wanted to post this to see if anyone could help me get any ideas on what it could be that I could run by him to help speed things up. Oh and one last thing, if you can't think of anything in regards to what could be causing my elevated heart rate, I actually would like to know why I'm ejaculating so fast so I can fix it because its gotten to the point where I can't even enjoy masturbating because of how fast I cum.
In case I missed anything, here's a list of my symptoms (although I have no idea if they're all correlated):
- High heart rate (anywhere from 90-190 bpm)
- High blood pressure
- Chest pain / tightness on my left side and does not hurt more when I breath in / out (every now and then pain extends to my neck and shoulder)
- Frequently tired
- Insomnia (could be correlated with the above symptom lol)
- Get out of breath faster than usual
- Anxiety (already had this though)
- Mild depression (probably from my breakup)
- Lack of motivation (probably from my ADHD)
- Very rare and random spasms in my neck
- About 10 pounds weight loss in the past few months
- Headaches (could be from the meds)
- Sexual Dysfunction
- Minor rash under my eyes that’s been coming / going
- Eczema / rash flare ups past few months above my eyes, on my inner elbows, on my hands, and on my neck that I’ve been able to get rid of with a steroid cream
- Wrists, elbows, knees and ankles (although many joints in general) tend to bother me / crack a lot
- Glands under my neck are frequently swollen
- Rashes on the tops of my feet and toes
- Multiple gray / white hairs appearing in the last few months
- Probably something minor that I'm forgetting but if I can't think of it it probably isn't important (will update this list if new symptoms arise)
Brief family history:
- Grandma (moms side) has rheumatoid arthritis - Grandma (dads side) had multiple sclerosis - Great Grandma (moms side) had Alzheimer's - Aunt (moms side) has an undiagnosed heart problem - Aunt (moms side) has rheumatoid arthritis and Reynaud's, inconclusive testing for lupus - Aunt (dads side) has something? something to do with swelling of feet and ankles? not too sure - Mom had anemia
​
My personal theories (I'm not a doctor though so obviously not too sure): Autoimmune Disease + Dysautonomia: - From a list of symptoms, I have experienced all of the following at some point over the last month: Lightheaded when standing up, nausea, brain fog, fast heart rate, high blood pressure, changes in bowel movements over the course of the past few months (both constipation and diarrhea), fatigue, sexual dysfunction, chest pain and discomfort, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, sleeping problems, dizziness, sweating a lot, watery eyes, frequent headaches, changes in body temperature, drooling (when I sleep), mood swings, anxiety, and sensitivity to light. Based on this a potential theory could be an autoimmune disorder on top of a heart condition? Also explains the elevated monocyte (absolute) levels. Serotonin Syndrome: - I was doing research and discovered that Buspirone, when taken with other medication that increases serotonin, can cause serotonin syndrome. After another google search, I found out that weed can increase serotonin levels. The only hole in this theory is that I stopped taking Buspirone after the initial spike in heart rate / blood pressure but had no noticeable changes.
TLDR: I have a high heart rate and blood pressure and can't figure out why

Anyone else dealt with/dealing with this? After two years and many doctors, I'm still totally in the dark, and every week feels like I'm getting worse and worse. But I don't even know what's what, which makes it harder for me to try and figure it out.
My laundry list of issues, both physical and mental, includes:

• 24/7 throbbing ache in my upper back/shoulder & neck region
• 24/7 throbbing ache and constant tension in my calves, even if I've been sitting all day
• Lower back pain (and increased leg pain) from standing or walking (especially standing)
• Generally prone to a lingering muscle ache & soreness from even the slightest physical activity, in literally every/any part of my body. Including just... sitting for too long.
• Daily headaches
• Retrolisthesis of the neck (vertebrae are curved the wrong way), a few disc bulges in both cervical and lumbar regions, and scoliosis -- these might account for some of the back pain, but it feels like there's more to it
• ADHD (inattentive type, I think; I take adderall for it) and possibly(?) depression
• Brain fog, lack of motivation, avoidant tendencies
• Low energy, tired all the damn time
• Probably more that I'm forgetting :')

So it's like...am I tired all the time because of my pain, or is it a symptom of a chronic condition? Same with the brain fog; is it from the ADHD or is it a sign of something else? Are the headaches from the neck issue? Are the back and leg pain connected, or two separate issues? Whenever I talk to doctors, I tend to bring up almost all of this (in even more detail), and they often seem to be confused by it. And so am I tbh; I don't even know how to research possibilities or solutions. Any advice??

I went to bed healthy one night, then woke up with a rash on the back of my neck, and swollen knees, elbows, and hands. Within 48 hours, the rash spread pretty much everywhere but my torso (arms, behind ears, eyes, legs, etc), and the swelling spread everywhere (feet, ankles, knees, hips, wrists, knuckles, lips). My feet were so swollen they were purple and I could barely walk from my bed to the couch. I could not close my fist, any kind of pressure hurt so bad. The rash turned into large hives eventually that were incredibly itchy. I took ibuprofen, Tylenol, and Benadryl but nothing helped.
Luckily, I was put on a 40mg prednisone taper that worked like magic! I am finishing the taper soon and am nervous because the doctors have no clue what caused this so I'm not sure if it will be coming back / how to prevent this.
Does this sudden onset sound familiar to anyone else?
(My ANA came back negative. My rheumatoid factor was normal. I tested negative for all tick-borne illnesses. I have still had some odd aches and pain despite the prednisone that present as a deep throbbing ache in my joints like my hips, knuckles, knees, etc.)

Im 26 year old female. 165 cm (5’5) and 51 kg (112 lbs). I don’t smoke or drink and don’t take any medication. I’ve never had any serious conditions(if we exclude two pneumonias as a kid) and don’t have any potential genetic disease. I’ve been vaccined for covid 2 years ago. For the past 3 weeks i’ve been occasionally feeling some strange kind of feeling in my left side of chest and left arm. It wasn’t unbearable pain but enough to worry me. I’ve also noticed some feelings in my body that i could describe as a sensation that suddenly appears in my muscles and travels through it, like i’ve noticed it in both arms and foot. 3 weeks earlier prior to these symptoms i had what i thought was heart attack except my symptoms increased when i started overthinking and googling what might be the case. I got tingles in my left arm and sudden flash of cold sweat followed up with nausea and i almost blacked out. I haven’t went to the ER but week after i got sick (constant low grade fever, sore throat, hot flashes in my cheeks, neck and chest, muscle pain) so i went to the doctor and explained my symptoms. We did ecg, blood tests and and blood pressure but all the results came back normal (except lower ALT and GGT on the blood panel and my throat was inflamed). I also got scheduled for cardiologist in 3 weeks but until then i wanted to ask if anyone has experienced anything similar or has any advice/idea what it could be? Could it really be anxiety or should i keep worrying? I’ve stressed out so much in these past few weeks i feel like it took off few years of my life.
Also wanna add im still experiencing hot flushes during the night ever since i got sick, which was this week(i just finished with antibiotics 2 days ago). Although i dont have a fever i wake up feeling like im burning cause my neck and cheeks would feel like they’re on fire. Not sure if theres any correlation between the two problems but i’ve been trying to connect the dots. On top of that i’ve noticed symptoms of pressure/sensation in my chest came back today after i’ve walked outside for 20 minutes. So it seems to be better once im resting and worse when im moving.

Hi everyone, I'm a 37 yr old male experiencing ongoing chest pain for the past few years. While I understand this community isn't a substitute for medical advice, I'd really appreciate some insights into whether my symptoms align with what others have experienced with costochondritis.
Pain location:

• Center of chest
• Directly below left breast
• Upper left back
• Left arm
• Left jaw (tightness, not pain)

Description of pain:

• Dull ache (never sharp)
• Tightness and dryness in muscles
• Clicking or popping sensation in left chest when slouching or stretching
• No shortness of breath
• Pressing on the painful areas doesn't necessarily worsen the pain.
• Pressure or massage on the chest provides some relief

Frequency:

• Constant pain while awake
• Comes and goes in weeks for 2 years now.

I know you can't diagnose through text, but any thoughts on whether my symptoms might be similar to costochondritis would be appreciated.

--⧼ BEGIN Broadcast Message ⧽--
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Priority Level: Urgent
:: From ::
Center Arm of the Emperor, Planet Laran
:: To ::
All Survivors of Fellow Royal Cast Broods
:: Message ::
The Emperor has graciously permitted the use of his Excellency's summer home on Planet Laran, located in the Empire's Center Arm, as a temporary refuge during the unprecedented violent Terran offences against His Holiness and the holiness of the Omni-brood of Ix.
:: Attachments ::
Coordinates and Flight Key
:: Royal Cryptographic Signature ::
Lord La'Ix, The Emperor's Right-Center Arm
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
--⧼ END Broadcast Message ⧽--

earlier

"CURSE THEM! The great houses are going to have my bloody head for this! There is no way this should've happened and under my command too! The Golden Emperor's own exotic holiday world has gone to ash and the only one to blame is going to be me. Well it was basically my watch anyways. Curse. Them. All"
Those were the only legible sounds one could hear among the frantic stamping of one particular Ixian lord as he hurried away through the underbrush of the royal reserve just outside the centre palace. The same Ixian lord that, only hours earlier, was delighting in his typical cooked boar while enjoying his evening's entertainment of a young Terran girl running for her life from a loose Laran tiger. Something about the way those bipeds run always makes him laugh. Some similarly caste Ixian would call this form of entertainment childish, lowbrow, and immature. He would tend to agree. But sometimes he just wanted cheap slapstick humour. The day to day life of the royal caste tends to get dull with all the fine arts an Ixian of his caste is meant to enjoy.
"How did it all go to shit!?! I was always attentive, and there hasn't been an uprising since those terrans were tamed for the palace. I mean we mostly neuter the problematic ones anyways, so why all the sudden aggression?", he shouted in agitation at the emptiness in front of him.
Speeding through the royal garden which in actuality is a repurposed Savannah of the island the palace is on. The Ixian was a beast of speed. Perfectly honed and trained over decades, and genetically maintained over eons, he always proudly held that he was the fasted in his brood of 16. Making a name for himself among the other broodkin for being the most genetically suited for the rank of high general (not that there was any need for generals, there hasn't been need for war in so long). Of course the Ixians always pride themselves in having no excess potential, and adapting your environment to suit your biology, but it never hurts to have perfect biology. That's the true pride of an Ixian.
That innate need to change the universe rather than changing themselves is what led to their vast interstellar empire. One that reached from constellation to constellation and then eventually to the arms of entire galaxies, terraforming worlds to the same environment they were already adapted to. Since forcing nature into one's bidding was the most sacred duty of any that shared a lick of Ix biology.
Which was why the Ix was confident in themselves. This Ixian in particular surely felt surprised, but mainly he was only moderately upset at the sudden change of situation, from being comfortable in the royal dining hall to sudden exercise.
"Everything can be changed back. Everything can be changed back." It repeated the mantra to itself. As it began to relax and turn its snarled sharp mouth into a toothy grin.
"Yes, there is nothing to worry about at all. Then let's make a game plan. Just need to make it to the space port at the harbour. Grab a ride out and find someone else to take the fall. That old royal butler is as ancient as the dirt of the broodworld. Hell, he probably was there when it vanished in the shadow of the holy empire's long past." chuckling to himself at the quite witty remark, but saddened that no one else was there to hear it.
Should be realistic enough for the others to believe. But first things first, I need to reach the harbour-master. It thought while its dense muscles powered the beastly lizard-like form on its journey, as it bound in the direction of its destination at top speed on all fours.
The blood red sun was already kissing the horizon by the time the Ixian went to nearly collapse under exhaustion of the extended sprint. He hasn't ran this far and fast than when he a young broodling that won competitions and competitions in the royal sports. I think I might have overdid it. He thought while massaging the oncoming threat of a sneaky cramp in his hind leg.
The Ixian were well known for speed. But their stamina was another thing. There bodies simply didn't have the evolved features for long distance travel. There was never truly any need in the past, as their very steady and controlled climate and sparsely diverse ecosystem on Ix never truly required much challenge.
It turned its panting head to face the way it came, gazing proudly at the great distance it made in such a short while.
But something was off by that view. Something different to what he was expecting. The view itself was mostly fine. Well, as fine as a smoking mark in the distance, presumably from the summer palace being engulfed in flame and spitting great plumes of black smoke. But no, something about this view chilled him to this spine. Craning his neck from his vantage point he could swear there was a small speck in the distance.
What on great Ix is that?
All of a sudden realisation hit like a rock on a peaceful pond. Something was following him. Something unknown and cold was making its way to his location. He was certain it wasn't any of his guards, all guards permitted to serve under the royal summer home were Ixian of course. Physically bred for their strength and speed, and placed into roles of importance like protecting the higher caste such as himself. (Whereas this day being the only exception). It did look like he was the only Ixian that actually made it out of the palace so far. Ixians are able to cover short distances in phenomenal speed, akin to a scaly 4 legged beast of the hunt.
No this was something else.
Feeling a very small panic build up inside, but veiling that cold, unwanted terror as impatience at how far he still needs to travel yet. Lord La'Ix flexed his anterior legs and sped on leaving behind a red-yellow cloud of dust in his wake.
He frowned. Feeling strange at a never before felt sensation. Like something in the back of his perfectly designed brain was screaming a silent, but terrifyingly familiar warning.
"Ix itself is an ancient world. Temperate in climate, while abundant in vegetation and small game. It is unknown how the Ixian was formed on paradise.
The old priest can drum into your heads that I'Ix made us into being by indenting his form in the sand of the first beach and filling the shape with his life. Moulding us into being.
The heretic would counter and say we evolved from a previous species akin to ourselves over the course of untold lengths of time.
The philosopher would suggest that only on paradise would the sentient universe fill in the space for the perfect beings to enjoy the fruits of existence.
Lastly, even the lowest caste Ixian would point and laugh at the rest and say 'why talk about antiquity, when we can make more paradise to fill the heavens'."
-A popular Ixian parable
Lord La'Ix bolted up all of a sudden from his resting spot. Heart suddenly beating frantically. The stars had barely enough time to shift positions when last rested his weary body, only a couple hours must have passed since dusk fell and the world plunged into night.
The silence of the Savannah made sound from afar travel better. Aside from the quiet rustling of the wind he wasn't so sure what he heard. Assuming his bored ears were playing tricks on him.
Calming down, curling up on the flat cool rock he found he started to drift to the shadowless lands where all Ixian go when they dream...
Drums, no, not drums. Some sort of mechanical tool? Not that I ever heard of a tool that just beat the ground senseless. A strange beating sound could be heard, pounding into the ground. As he stayed frozen and very awake, he could have sworn it was getting louder. Closer.
CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.
Suddenly the entire valley echoed the sounds of a few broken sticks.
La'Ix jumped up, whirling around, and came to face something approaching fast that could only be described as a cold predator, not that there were any predators on the homeworld's recorded history. But every cell in his aching body reacted the same. DANGER, DANGER, RUN, RUN.
The silver light of the planet's 3 moons barely lit the valley but what that light bounced off of was a figure in motion. Front Legs pumping up and down, nostrils flaring, eyes too close together, and pupils so large it was like staring at darkness itself.
Hold on there are only 2 legs right? Sudden familiarity hit him hard, memories of last night's entertainment stained his mind. In the name of Ix is that a Terran?!?
La'Ix didn't realise it then, but it was looking at a Terran, despite the Terrans characteristics looking different to the standard slave he was used to seeing. The pumping body of the runner was made for such long distances. Sweat acting as a cooling mechanism, making the man glisten in the harsh moonlight, the enlarged nostrils taking in all the air the body needs for this type of strenuous activity. And the enlarged pupils, made for adjusting to low light environments.
Down on the plains of the Savannah were two creatures. One a perfect evolutionary miracle, practically evolution's first try gone right, Perfectly made for its environment and was never truly exposed to varying climates and environments. And the other, having crawled through the primordial ooze, and struggled and fought its way through dangers, diseases, and competition on its own horrifying world. Where deadly heat in deserts can dry out any living thing, and such freezing poles that can turn anything that enters it in pure ice.
The man's lean and sweat-slicken form was steadily making its way towards the frozen statue of La'Ix. Just as he got within 50 paces did La'Ix sprint away scattering pebbles in its path the echoes of which bounced back from the valley's sharp walls. Undeterred, the chaser kept steadily running. Jaws grit. Eyes locked on afar.
And afar was its prey. Sprinting away.
HOW IN IX'S NAME DID THAT THING KNOW WHERE I AM? The La'Ix in a fit of sudden excitement mixed with a heavy dose of panic, began its high octane sprint from the sudden looming threat of being found. Hind Legs propelling the creature's body forward, while its front arms, which were historically also for four legged locomotion, pulled the terrain closer with each stride. Increasing its momentum until it reached max speed.
"Broodling La'Ix!" said a stern but educated voice.
"Huh? Oh! Yessir!" a young Ix jumped to attention still thinking about more enjoyable things specifically outside of the classroom walls.
"Well? Can you please answer my question or will you make your other broodkin wait until Ix falls to ash first", the tutor said expectantly, prompting several muffles giggles in the room.
"Sorry sir. What makes the Ixian race its place in eternity is the attention we put in perfection. After our home-world of Ix's climate and terrain began to change, the leaders from antiquity decreed we carry on the spirit of the home-world in maintaining a consistent biological and genetic profile that will always be suited to Ix's surface. As we change worlds to be more like Ix, we can spread the spirit of Ix to them. As such, Change is- uh, change is..."
"Change is the poison of perfection, Remaining unchanged for Ix enable us to carry its spirit to other planets in the heavens", continued the tutor. "Well you certainly paid some attention to today's lesson at the very least. But remember that final part. It's the last of the core tenants you will need to remember."
"Yessir!"
A good half night passed on the surface of the Savanna. Where a previously noble and alert Ixian who took great care in appearances and status was no longer to be seen. Instead of that proud domineering alien representative of ix was a dishevelled, dusty, ragged creature, dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted from the various sprints it forced itself to endure to stay ahead of fate's ever closing hand.
Is this the sword of Damocles that was mentioned in the ancient Terran records? Always hanging down on those who hold power and seek more? Fate's sharp blade? But why me? I was never in any real power. All I wanted out of this life was a comfortable posting with no dirt and grime from the lower worlds. Why me? Why now? Why do I-
La'Ix snapped himself out of a daze. Is he here- No, no I should be far far away from that Terran now. Maybe I can find some-
A dim glow interrupted its train of thought. Much too early to be the Sunrise on the Emperor's summer planet, and much to low to be the light from one of it's 2 moons. It was a light from a town.
"That's right!" The Ixian barely managed to rasp in between haggard breaths. Its body barely able to continue the amount of self inflicted abuse it has suddenly been put in.
A lot more hunched over than the Ixian was earlier. It made its way towards a small town it knew was in between the palace and the harbour. The emperor loved his royal rustic towns and villages. It is said that his royal emperor would sometimes tour around them marvelling at the romantic theme of a simple rustic life. Although getting a personal town full of Ixians required a lot of lower caste be forced into long and expensive work contracts as background entertainers for the king's planet, all this excessive show of wealth was partially for peackocking the emperor's reputation, and partially for his own personal enjoyment. The Emperor is almost culturally required to flaunt his royal wealth in all forms in order to keep connections with all the royal houses. An emperor that doesn't shower their supporting aides and houses with grand gifts is fated to eventually be found cold on the floor of the royal banquet due to 'suicide from accidentally ingesting poison', as was the previous emperor.
To avoid such an unfortunate passing, the Higher Royals would trade vast resources, delicacies, and even exotic slaves to court 'royal favours'. Slaves of the Terran variety especially are considered to be the most unique of gifts the empire has ever acquired.
Terrans weren't necessarily large and bulky. Fighters were assigned to the Slave Obniraks. Powerful creatures used to fill the fields on tougher worlds where mechanical services would be deemed to expensive. The growth of a Obnirak into full working adulthood is only a few cycles. Meaning mass producing a workforce is quite an easy feat.
Terrans instead would take vast cycles to mature from a childling to an average adult. Meaning growing a slave force would take vast quantities of resources, immense patience, and strict guidance from their owners as to not create faulty creatures. All of which increases the general standing on any house that manages to keep a vast amount of Terran slaves in the best quality.
Terrans weren't necessarily docile and obedient. That role was perhaps given to the oldest slave race the Ix ever controlled. The Iralisa. It was known that they were made remarkably docile due to generations upon generations of select breeding, and pruning off the 'aggressive traits' from the gene pool. However, that led to the adverse effect of physically weakening them to a point where such docility and lack of a frame to keep up with their workload led to a general lack of Ixian interest and were subsequently purified.
Terrans are notoriously independent and herd-minded in larger quantities. Similar to growing a very stubborn Terulian Rose Vine. Which only looks impressive when great care have been given. Terrans need to be given an illusion of being ever so slightly free. Which typically involves owning vast amounts of land and nature to let them roam and graze. Of course, the only ones that can accommodate grand work forces of Terrans are the larger houses with the appropriate territory for humans, as is studied in the Ixian art of Servitude.
One can only guess which species is the Emperor's favourite.
The following town should indeed have both, low caste Ixians, and possibly none of the Emperor's favourite slaves.
The Ixian approached the glowing town. As it reached closer it straightened its back, upright on its hindlegs in the royal fashion. And proclaimed. "It is I! La'Ix, royal courtier. Lend me aid imme-"
Something is off. Not a single shadow in the town, I can see lights but no movement, where is every-
After turning the corner to the center of the small town, the dustied and weary creature froze in its tracks when it saw it. A pit nearly as wide as an Ixian land cruiser and who knows how deep filled with a stench so powerful it watered his eyes. Despite the Ixian's lack of a proper sense of smell. It knew the foul fetor of death.
The crudely dug pit was nearly overflowing when he approached it. Large, smoking, smouldering pyres cast that eerie light that had drawn him in.
"H-how? Wha-What the..." he trailed off when a local species of Laran boar growled and squealed as it tore a dead Ixian limb from the mountain of corpses.
"Who could've..."
He stopped. The shock of seeing his own kind laid like broken dolls in a bleeding pit slowly faded, replaced by a numbness. The Ixian had just noticed they were of Ix. Only of Ix.
Not a single terran colour was visible in the black and spotted pit of bodies. Not a single slave body was visible.
I-Impossible...
His legs gave way, either from the strain of the entire nights run, the horror facing him, or the threat from behind. He just dropped.
Minutes passed, or hours. It was hard to tell. But the Ixian lay slumped. Body unwilling to move further. Battered flesh unwilling to be propelled by a shattered spirit.
Mind slowly spinning up again. Thoughts began whirring to life in its mind. Could the rumours actually have been true? It had read the sparse reports of odd activity from certain Ixian-controlled worlds on the outer arms of the empire. Small uprisings of unknown origin. Hardly anything of note. If it had no affect on the greater houses then it was of no real concern to Ix and its emperor.
Could this threat have made its way to the centre arm already? Impossible. But what else could have done this to us?
Something caught the Ixian's eyes. In the middle of the pit it stood. A large stake, wet with deep Ixian crimson, dripping ever so slowly. Towering over the pit like a battlefield flag was a head of an Ixian rammed onto the tip of the spike. But the particular detail that caught the Ixian's eyes was a symbol cut into the flesh of the large forehead.
Looking from the outward-in. Eight concentric rings, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller in size until it reached a dark mass at the centre of the symbol. The Ixian never forgot the symbol and the affect it had on it.
Eight concentric rings, and a centre mass. Eight rings, and a mass. Eight- Eight what? Eight planets? And a star? ...
A growing pool of cold dread rose in its guts that made it shiver despite the fair night. This dread reflected the sharp reality on its frigid surface.
This Ixian was well-bred, well-trained, and well-educated. Although anyone with a basic education would know of such a pattern.
Terra and her sisters. THEIR star system...
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It's not possible!-
Knowing what that sound meant, the Ixian tried to whirl around, its body barely being able to heed its masters commands. Just when it was starting to move again it felt it.
Sudden sharp agony. Sudden sharp, raging agony. The Ixian looked at it's hind leg. A sharpened wooden stake was jutting out of it.
It loud out a tight lipped scream, as it grasped the pulsating wound as one does immediately after an injury. It barely had enough time to look up at its attacker when the Terran bolted forward, shortening the distance between hunter and prey from metres to mere paces. The Ixian barely had enough time to block the hand grasping the knife as the arm flew forward at the last minute with a crash.
What phenomenal force!
Using the momentum from that sprint plus the wind up of his arm. The Terran was able to impart a phenomal show of force for a creature its size. That's when La'Ix for the first time saw a human in its raw unchanged form. Great beads of sweat collecting dust on its brow, to prevent it from entering the eyes. The constant release of sweat from the countless pores on its soft fleshy skin. Constant cooling? Even the visible veins and capillaries visible from the fire light.
What a beast of endurance-
Suddenly the horizon fell before the Ixian only to reveal the inky black sky dotted with pigments from stars like a painters masterpiece. When did I look up? Then a crash and blunt force from the ground.
The Ixian had been toppled over by that ferocious exchange of force.
Barely able to get up due to the wind being knocked out of its single large lung, the searing pain in its hind leg, and the exhaustion from the chase. It was too late. The terran was already on top of it. Taking up the entire view of the sky as the terran stepped forward into its field of vision.
The sudden perspective change made a once small and frail looking slave look grander than life, grander than all the legends told to Ixian broodlings.
The punches rained down. Repeatedly. A constant bombardment of beating rained like the drops of rain before the first dew. The previous pain in its leg forgotten, to invite a new visitor in the form of blunt force trauma. So ferocious were the raw blows to its carapace that the Ixian felt the exoskeleton crack under the increasing pressure and strain.
Something cracked, another thing snapped. The amount of pain too much to comprehend. The neurons firing in its second brain just assumed it was everywhere. Its half-working eye glimpsed the fist as it came down for the nth time. Red and split knuckles, revealing pure white bone beneath—a reinforced weapon. The perfect natural offence. All the muscles moved to propel it downwards where something else cracked and split.
Is this where I die?
As if understanding its fate the Ixian's form slumped over. Its body barely holding onto the natural exoskeleton shielding that covered its chest and facial area. Fluids leaking from the cracks that went too deep, and who knows how many internal ribs are shattered.
Its body, knowing that that more movement will cause more injuries, and further stimuli would confuse it further. It simply shut down.
The last moments it had as it fell backwards on its side. Was a small running figure. Hand clutching wooden spears. But the truly petrifying sight was behind it. A vast shadow flickering from the light of the lit pyres from the hunter in front of it. A shadow cast so large, jagged, and menacing it appeared to swallow the town whole.
And into a hole did the Ixian fall. A vacuum with no sensation or thought. Just darkness.
How... did we never notice such a... monster... in their... shadow...
All Ixians were taught about 'violence' and 'conflict' at an early age. As a sort of rite of passage that any of them would go through as they survive their early broodling days. As Ix have no natural predators, they had begun to instil a serving of some necessary conflict to keep their generations fresh and somewhat physically strong. As a precaution, only rudimentary forms of civil sports, races, shows of strength and courage were ever really explored. But always in a controlled and calm settings, as there would never be any true need for actual conflict.
As there was always a need to maintain ones own environment. The need never arose for the development of fighting techniques and schools of training. That was one of the best parts of being an Ix that many thought. Having supreme control over the worlds you inhabit means setting gravity, atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperatures to the perfect levels for comfort replaced any need for biological change. Why grow when you can keep everything the same way, how you like it.
They were a vast empire. An empire of statues.
-Excerpt from the history of extra-solarian species, Author unknown
It awoke to a burning radiating heat from in front. The large sun was already starting to set on the horizon when it awoke. Had a whole day passed? Or two?
Trying to block the setting sun from its eyes it couldn't. "What?...", barely made out in a whisper.
I'm tied up.
And indeed the Ixian was right. Tied up next to a small brook, with a scorching fire in front of it. The monster nowhere to be seen.
"No good... it's too tight", it grunted in an attempt to escape its bindings.
Going slack in defeat it avoided any additional movement. Not having the energy to spare to move. It was lucky to have always been lazy at shedding its carapace - a frequent nag from its broodmother - might just have become its salvation in this case.
Thank Ix.
So there it stayed.
Hours passed. The Sun fully set and the stars awake in this dark world barely lit up the wildlands. Only the prisoner in this cone of firelight existed out here.
A rustling up ahead caught the prisoner's attention disturbing the eerily still silence of the Savannah night. And ungodly horror of a squeal ruptured the air invoking a deep visceral terror within the bound prisoner. Something. Something close but just outside the firelight was eyeing it, glinting from beyond the light. Those dark predatory eyes stabbed the prisoner with a sudden coldness. All while the squealing suddenly halted. SNAP. SQUELCH.
Now it came, emerging into the light. A beast. Holding a knife in one bloodied hand, dripping on the dirt. And dragging by the leg, a massive adult Laran boar grotesquely smearing thick blood still warm from the cut in the neck on the dirt.
The prisoner watched, barely moving, barely breathing. Frozen with the horror in front of it as the bloodied carcass was skinned; fur sliced away with harsh, scraping sounds with the crude knife. Spurting remaining blood all over the site.
The pink naked flesh then washed in the brook, leaving a distinct smell of oxidised blood in the air, before being skewered and roasted over the roaring flames. Fat popping violently in the heat.
In this gruesome display, the beast revealed not just a fate for the boar, but a dark hint of what might come. The realisation struck deep—this could be more than just a demonstration; it was a terrifying preview of its own potential end.
It passed out again.
Only to be awoken by the haunting echoes of a wild, desperate squeal that once thrummed through the savannah's eerie silence. Dare it open its eyes?
After a great heavy effort -utilizing its every last drop of courage- one eye cracked open. And what it saw. Made it regret ever having done so.
Right across from it, the hunter was a grotesque silhouette against the flickering fire. Grasping a severed boar leg was a mouth viciously biting, ripping, tearing into the flesh with primal ferocity. Each bite was deliberate, each tear of sinew was a clear, calculated demonstration of supreme savagery. Its jaw muscles bulged with the force of a bite.
All the while, the eyes—deep, abyssal pits—fixed intently on the prisoner. Deepest black pits stared back at it. Watching. Observing. Calculating, with a dark intelligence. it was calculating. It was relishing the terror it inspired and the control it exerted. Or planning its next meal.
The sounds of ripping flesh filled the thick, blood-soaked air. Deep into the night. Deep into this never-ending nightmare.
Never once did the prisoner move. Not an iota. Frozen in abject horror.
The night passed quietly. After the feast the human had, or the desecration of life that the prisoner saw, whichever way you look at it. The human nodded off to sleep. Content in the success of his mission. But the tied up creature had no such rest. Sending silent pleas to the stars that it might be saved. But not daring to make a sound, less it awaken that sleeping horror. Or was it sleeping? Dear Ix, it might be watching me. Feigning sleep to keep an eye on its meal. Dear Ix I'm next...
All through the night, the demons plagued its mind. Until the warmth of the morning rose, and with it the sound of an Ixian cruiser.
Elation could not be an understatement for the tired, tied, beat, and bruised thing. Craning its neck to the direction of the sound about to bellow out an Ixian warning to the demon resting next it.
"BE CAREFUL! THERE'S ONE HERE-". It stopped speaking. That previous elation it felt at a saviour arriving to rescue it from the demons grasp, fizzled out like a drop of water in a drought.
That all so familiar cold remained. And the dryness of despair. As pairs of dark pupils shot back at it.
On the cruiser were tall adult Terrans. Clean cut, well fed, well dressed Terrans. Four, no Six, no eight of them. All hanging onto the side of cruiser while it made its way to their location. Compared to the demon waking up beside it, these creatures were organised. A savageness neatly packaged in a uniform with a symbol. The prisoners eyes grew wide in its sunken sockets. 8 rings, and a centre mass. They must be the cause of, well all this.
Accepting fate, its head fell in part defiance, in part to avoid the stinging eyes of these others. It felt their gaze burn through—cold, cruel, calculating. There is nothing I can do any longer.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" The runner said to his approaching comrades, "Took all night to catch up to him."
"Hey Jan, great work", the tall militant woman shot back. With a playful punch to his arm. "Guess all that cardio really paid off, didn't I tell you it would!" She let out a playful guffaw.
"Thanks Chel", replied Jan.
"Ok chop chop people, we're on a schedule. We need to reach the port ASAP remember? Come on Jan, rest up all you like, you're still on the clock."
"Aye sir." Jan shot back in a mock salute, gaining a sneer from the commandant, then a sneaky smile.
"Don't forget your trash. And make sure its breathing still."
It creaked open its eyes, seeing pairs of boots moving towards it and standing in front. In silence. Then all of a sudden, felt pairs and pairs of hands pull and tug. and lift it up The thing let out a pathetic silent sob. While it was loaded in the back of the cruiser, face up. Staring at eyes, piercing black dots peering back. It could never understand what was being felt by those eyes and those faces.
Ixians wear their emotions on their carapace; spots and stripes would slowly appear in certain parts, representing emotions and feeling that their bodies felt in a general sense. But the most private thoughts were of course, still kept private.
But this. This was just too foreign. The eyes never stopped. Even in the swaying movement of the cruiser the pupils never broke contact. Those eyes. As if it was peering into it, envelops your entire mind. There was no way to hide, even hiding in his inner self would do no good. Those eyes. Those predator eyes can find me anywhere I try to escape to. Inside and out.
Some times passes.
"You know. I lost good friends to the royal caste. Especially to this one's brood clan or whatever they like to call it." One of them was looking right at it when they said it. It turned its eyes over to the source. A short one, with a slave scar on the neck said it. A scar that shot through his memories. A scar inflicted to property owned by, his brood. This one is dangerous..., it thought.
Jan, and the others didn't look but felt it. The cold darkness in that tone made it clear what it intended to do.
The female militant, Chel, I think her name was. Slowly reached to the side arm on her holster. Sensing the oncoming problem.
"You still understand me don't you? I've had to watch good people die. Damn good people." The scarred one one stood, grabbing the upper rail of the cruiser to steady themselves. "I hear that even if you get ill, you become the entertainment for the night. What was it now?" She paused for a brief second. "Oh I remember".
"Stil" Chel said slowly. "Cool it". Hand still on the butt of the sidearm.
Not hearing or not wanting to reply. Stil continued. "Torn apart by those raptor pets. Hands or feet cut off as souvenirs for those fucked-up parties and those fucked-up guests. Oh yea, and the 'toy play' or whatever they call it. Can't have Ken and Barbie fight back now, can we?"
Stil leaned closer to the now cowering, shaking thing, "I wonder which one was your favourite." The words cut through La'Ix like an icicle. This was the first time these demons actually spoke to it directly. And it didn't like it. It could sense the venom from the words.
"Stil..." Chel slowly got up, hand still at the ready. "I said cool it." The line had a steely warning to it. Chel wouldn't risk the mission. Even if it meant doing what must be done.
Agonizing seconds passed. The cowering, shaking thing seemed to grow whiter and whiter by the second, It's spots clearly showing what it felt. Staring up, Not willing to move but being unable to hide. It felt the absolute crushing weight of the present. Grinding it down to a paste.
Everyone stayed still. The two militants didn't move. The rest didn't seem to even have paid attention to the converstation, still looked away.
Longer passed.
Stil smiled, "Oh come on Chel, you know I wouldn't do anything to our friend here? You know I was just playing around." Stil laughed. Chel didn't react.
Stil immediately crouched, faced the shaking prisoner inches apart eye to eye, and in a whisper said "Right friend?"
She wants me to reply? Dear Ix I can't even think with those eyes in front of me What do I do?! What do I say?!
"Right. Friend?" Stil repeated slower and colder. Like the blade of a surgeon hovering over skin, ready to plunge.
The gears of its Ixian brain grinded to a screeching halt. In utter desperation to find a reply it simply gave up. Instead, it felt a warmth slowly spread. Slowly spread between its hind legs. It had released its bladder.
"BAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT IT" Stil roared in laughter. The sound of it rattling the prisoners brain with the sound. Disorienting its senses. "NOW THAT'S CLASSIC TIMING IF I'VE EVER SEEN IT!" She plopped back down face red and still laughing.
The Ixian didn't know what to do but tremble and sob silently on the cold surface of the cruiser surrounded by laughter. and the warmth of its piss. It tried to plug its ears. But the sound still came. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. Dear Ix, what are these demons... where are they taking me? To hell?...
The cruiser kept cruising. Towards the port across the island. Trailing laughter behind. Or to the sobbing wreck of a thing, demonic cackling.
The scent of familiarity wafted into the senses of the prisoner as the cruiser started to slow. The smell of the salt, the chirping of familiar aviaries. Sound of the crash of sea. The port.
Braving a sentence for the first time in for what seems eternity. It let out a question "...w..w..where ... why... are... ... we ...h... here?" It managed to say shakily, eyes downcast.
As if in response, a sharp shove greeted it from the back and a hard hit on the ground was as much of an answer it was getting.
"Move it", Jan said gruffly.
They walked. the ixian still bound but free to walk in the middle of the group of humans. Towards a destination still not known. The walk twisted, and turned, and twisted again. One thing struck out to the prisoner. It was too clean, especially for what it was expecting, it's last experience being in the previous blood-soaked town laden with bodies and carrion eaters.
The port town was completely silent, free from the regular hustle and bustle it usually had even when the emperor was not present. And superbly clean. Not a single piece of dirt to be seen. Not a single Ixian either. Where did everyone go? Did they make it out somehow when these invaders came?
In the background, the surf broke relentlessly.
Piercing eyes caught the prisoners glance, as it wandered curiously around the town. Realising its mistake La'Ix tried to look away but the burning gaze gripped his own.
As if reading its soul. The human answered the hidden question bubbling up in La'Ix. "You should've seen them your royal majesty". The one called Stil said while bending in mocking courtesy.
The surf pounded the shore even more loudly now.
"They don't swim well. Especially the young ones. They dropped like stones. Turning all white by the time they stopped moving."
Louder now. The sea roared.
Nothing came. Not a thought in La'Ix's mind. Its mind struggled to comprehend the depth of what was said by Stil, the scarred human.
The waves boomed louder now. Louder than the sun, echoing louder than the screams of all the Ixians that must have perished.
It saw the lips of the standing-devil in front of it. But all the came from its blood red lips were obscured by the sound of the pounding of the waves. The echoes of drowned kin, thudding and slapping against the shore, merged with the relentless surf in La'Ix's mind.
This is for our sins.
Wave after wave, the relentless surge continued, each one a haunting reminder of the souls lost to the sea, each crash a ghostly thud of bodies hitting the shore.
Very slowly did some exhausted neuron in the Ixian's head come to a conclusion as to how these creatures in front of it can be so relentless, so cruel, and so evil. When pushed to beyond its breaking point, did their true carnivorous instincts rear their ugly head.
Oh dear Ix. What sort of environment could breed such demons?
La'Ix didn't remember what happened next. The memories feel like a distant dream now as he sits watching the port sky now.
The aching brand on his forehead of the 8 ringed system, pulsed in pain—a departing gift from his newly made friends, stung from the salty sea air.
He barely recalls the staggered walk from the empty inter-arm transmission office and the inputting of his biometric royal seal. He barely even remembers the message that was sent under his name and signature
And even less does he remember what he heard what will happen next.
All alone now, he stares at the sky of the empty port town. As he watches more royal ships enter the atmosphere.
He gazes upward, thoughtlessly, statue-like Knowing fate will come for them all. Fate in the form of piercing black eyes and a monster so large it can fit in a shadow.
A single thought, carried its way from above the despair to the surface. Slowly. Like a bubble in a pool of tar.
What was I meant to tell the emperor again?

Twitching in feet all the time and all around body a few times a day.
Started with health anxiety a few weeks ago and did lots of calf raises / walking on heels to test (stopped this 2 weeks ago). I had massive aches in calves and legs around this period.
Since then I’ve had pain in the bony part of the outside of my leg (bursa?) and the muscle that runs down from there to my knee. It feels sore / tender and my leg feels shaky.
I went to a trampoline park yesterday with my little boy and when I was running / bouncing it felt off - anyone else had this?

Chapter 4
Location: Glimmer Fate
POV: Faror Hend
No rain on the plains in Glimmer Fate. High black grasses make the area extremely hot. Faror Hend is patrolling the edge of the Vitr Sea with her cousin Spinnock Durav. The shore of the Vitr Sea is devoid of life and the breeze coming off of it stings the lungs. The liquid of the sea dissolves almost anything it comes into contact with including stones. Spinnock is sharpening his Hust blade on a stone that has been worn away by the sea. His blade is very old and therefore does not sing. It's new to him, but has been passed down for generations. A third rider in their party, Finarra Stone, was scouting the shoreline out of sight. Nothing lived this close, so it was safe to go alone. Today the Vitr is calm, but recently it has not been and storms had resulted in its claiming more land for the sea. The sea is expanding. Eventually it will come to the border of Kurald Galain if they cannot find a solution. The Tiste have no idea what the source of the Vitr is and how to stop it's expansion. Tiste scholars are also unwilling to consult with anyone outside the Tiste.
Faror Hend is extremely attracted to Spinnock Durav, but their houses are too close in relations for her to act on this attraction. Plus she is betrothed and older, although these would not be a barrier to her. Faror thinks of a line from a Gallan poem, "The ground is bare and hard / and will hold all secrets / and the sky cares not / for the games of those beneath it." She desperately wants to act on her lust, but so far has kept in control. Faror is a big Gallan fan. Spinnock seems to know how his cousin feels and teases her.
POV: Captain Finarra Stone
During her patrol of the Vitr coastline, Finarra finds a carcass. This is puzzling as she has never seen one this close to the sea. It appears to have come out of the sea itself. The corpse is huge with scales and a tail. But a lot of the body eaten away by the Vitr. The head and neck were missing and the top of the torso appears chewed. Very few Tiste had ever claimed to have seen a dragon, but this could be one. However, those legends all had them with wings and Faror did not see any evidence of wings on this beast. A breeze brought the stench to the horse and this caused it to back up a few steps making noise. At this the stump where the neck should be lifted. The creature begins shuffling towards her. With an unbelievably fast lurch it closes the distance and swipes at Faror and her horse with two arms catching the horse with both swipes. Faror finds herself tumbling through the air. She lands on her shoulder and breaks something. The beast is still again after decimating her horse. She decides to head for flatter ground to make better time back to her party. She is the daughter of Hust Henarald and possesses his sword. Her biggest threat now were the naked wolves that roamed Glimmer Fate. Faror contemplates the meaning of dark and light and the impossibility of either without the other. She also says that Mother Dark had been a mortal Tiste woman before embracing darkness. While Finarra is contemplating, something screams at her intending to freeze her with fear. Finarra mortally wounds it as it streaks by.
POV: Faror Hend
Hearing the screams of the wolves and no sound of their prey, Faror fears Finarra is the prey. She has not returned and it has been too long. Faror decides to leave Spinnock at camp and go to investigate. He tells her to be careful and he doesn't want to lose her. She responds by saying that he has many cousins. Faror can hear at least a dozen wolves and knows that it is likely that Finarra is fighting by herself without her horse. Thinking of Spinnock's face, she attempts to replace it in her mind with her betrothed, Kagamandra Tulas. A Tiste who the war had made gaunt. Tulas was of a low house and was under the command of Vatha Urusander. This alone would not have made house Durav attempt a betrothal. However, in the war he had saved the life of Silchas Ruin and by doing so had earned the favor of Mother Dark who would reward him by making him the head of a new High House. She thinks that the war stole Tulas's ability to love anything and she is not sure she can love him either, but she will try.
Eventually she finds the place of the wolf attack. There are many dead wolves. The fighting is over, but she does not see Finarra. She thinks further down the trail she will find wolves eating her corpse. Finarra comes out from behind some boulders. Faror begins to speak, but Finarra tells her to speak softly as something has walked out of the Vitr. Finarra chastises Faror for beginning to follow the path through the grasses that would have led to her death. Faror discovers that she had almost welcomed it. Finarra was tracking whatever had walked out of the Vitr when she came upon Faror. "Small footprints, puddles of Vitr pooled in them" She tells Faror that it is their duty to track it.
POV: Finarra Stone
Finarra in a lot of pain from her shoulder and wolf bites, contemplates the look she caught in Faror's eyes. One that told her she was seeking death. She thinks the cause may be Faror's betrothal to a broken man that may be incapable of love and being in close proximity to Spinnock who oozes it. "Spinnock Durav had been pursued by women and men since he had first come of age. He had learned to not give up too much of himself, since those hands reaching for him desired little more than conquest and possession." Finarra has also caught Spinnock's adoration of his cousin turning in to something else. She knows this kind of torture between them will ruin them. She contemplates how to fix the situation. Transferring one might work, but also thinks of another more sure answer.
POV: Faror Hend
Faror and Finarra are both on the back of Faror's horse. Finarra is unconscious and Faror is having a difficult time keeping her on the horse. She thinks about Finarra only being a few years older than her, but already being a battle veteran. She realizes that the wolves she found were not the ones killed by Finarra, but those of the someone that came from the sea. Faror makes it back to the camp. They treat the unconscious woman's wounds fearing infection.
POV: Spinnock Durav
They had burned away the dead flesh and infection on Finarra's leg hoping they got it all. Finarra has not woken up and is fevered. Spinnock outlines their options whether to stay until Finarra wakes up or to try to transport her as is. Faror informs him that Finarra wanted them to track the stranger from the Vitr. Faror tells Spinnock that Finarra needs a healer and soon, but they also need to track the stranger. Faror will go after the stranger and Spinnock will take Finarra to the outpost. Spinnock follows orders, but now there is a coldness between the cousins.
Following the trail she had discovered the previous night, Faror Hend found several more wolf corpses all killed with savage blows. The path she now followed, if kept straight, would lead directly to Kharkanas. Eventually she comes to a clearing and finds a fair-skinned, blonde woman clothed only in a scaled wolf hide over her shoulders. Everywhere else was sunburnt. She appears young and has no weapon, which is curious considering her roughly cut hair and several wolf corpses. Faror says she means no harm and asks if she is an Azathanai. To this the woman responds, "I know your language. But it is not mine. Azathanai. I know that word. Azat drevlid naratarh Azathanai. The people who were never born." After a few questions that the woman cannot answer, she tells Faror that she recalls nothing not even the sea she came out of or her own name. Faror tells the woman that she will escort her to Kharkanas to meet with Mother Dark and gives the woman a Tiste name until she can recall her own. The name is T'riss. Upon hearing this the woman smiles and says, "I am “born of the sea”. Faror asks if she will walk or ride with her. T'riss says that Faror's horse looks useful and she will have one too. She turns to the grasses and conjures a horse out of them. It seems that it's weight is too much for the grasses used. Looking at Faror, T'riss then conjures clothes, lance, and a sword out of the same grasses. This scares Faror because it is god-like sorcery. "‘Mother Dark.’ T’riss smiled. ‘That is a nice title.’"
Location: 3 days out from Neret Sorr
POV: Sharenas Ankhadu
Sharenas likes the heat. She tans nice unlike most of her cohort. She hates the cold and remembers her time in the campaign against the Jheleck unfondly. She is the commander of her cohort. Her sister and cousin, Infayen Menand and Tathe Lorat, are greatly renowned in the legion and being related to them saw high expectations settled onto Sharenas's shoulders. Her relatives are not currently with the legion. Hunn Raal and Osserc are in the vanguard and Ilgast Rend was not happy to be with them. He questions whether or not Urusander knows what Hunn Raal is doing. Osserc backs up Raal and so Ilgast drops the inquiry. Sharenas thinks Osserc is lying when he says his father knows of and approves this expedition. Sharenas thinks, "Hunn Raal is honourable. He knows what he is doing, and he knows, as do we all, that what he is doing is the right thing to do" She thinks Osserc is impulsive and has a thin skin, but Hunn Raal keeps him from making brash decisions. 3 cousins of Hunn Raal also accompanied them. Serap, Risp, and Sevegg all sleep with Hunn Raal, but their second cousins so it's not illegal. The last of their party is Kagamandra Tulas. He is forbidding and dangerous and hadn't spoken since their departure. They are heading towards the Warden outpost where Tulas's betrothed is stationed. Sharenas asserts that every woman could see that Tulas is dead inside and left his soul in the war. That he longs for death. She contemplates that once Urusander remakes the Tiste into a meritocracy, that arranged marriages will no longer be. Ironically because Tulas had given so much in defense of the Tiste he would be a prize as a husband. She pities Faror Hend and her future with this man. However she considers that Faror, just days after the betrothal, signed up with the wardens to get herself as far away as possible. Sharenas is very interested in witnessing the meeting between Tulas and Faror. She resolves to help Faror out of her predicament although it is only for her own amusement.
POV: Ilgast Rend
Ilgast does not like Hunn Raal or Osserc, thinking the former vain and arrogant and the latter nothing like his father except in appearance. Ilgast does not approve of all the debauchery that his fighting had bought for the Tiste. He thinks that Urusander has lost the plot himself. It wouldn't be long before the legion rebelled under his indifference. He would love it if Draconus was put in his place, but fears this would result in great bloodshed and does not want that. He also knows that if Hunn Raal is allowed to lead the legion in Urusander's absence, civil war was assured. "In a world of blood, everyone drowns". Ilgast is disappointed in Sharenas, thinking she would be wise enough not to fall into the wake of Hunn Raal. He feels he is in the middle of this brewing conflict being of a major house and also a cohort commander in Urusander's legion. Hunn Raal thinks he will help him convince the wardens to join his cause. However, he knows Calat Hustain will not join Hunn Raal. He is far too loyal to his own house. Ilgast remembers when Mother Dark was just a Tiste woman until she found the Gate. "Darkness was many things; most of all, it was selfish"

Hello, I had an RFA (burning of the nerves) done last Tuesday late afternoon. Tuesday wed and most of Thursday weren’t bad at all just needed my meds and ice and take it easy Friday was worse and I’m like well maybe it’s normal (it gets worse before it gets better type deal) Saturday about the same as Friday till the evening it got really bad. Went to bed early to try and sleep it off kept waking up. Woke up today Sunday a lot earlier than normal to use the restroom and it was pretty difficult. (Not going just going to the bathroom sitting ect) I’m still having it pretty hard with very little relief took everything I have on hand lyrica, norco, muscle relaxer Tylenol and it’s barely touched it. I wouldn’t say it feels like a sun burn just a super deep ache with limited mobility. I don’t think it’s infected because no fever and no “feeling” like I have a fever. I’ve had a post surgical infection in the past so I know what that’s like.
My question is, is this normal? Should worry? If you been though it when does the pain stop. I was told it’s a 10-14 day recovery I’m at day 5 or 6 depending on if you found the day of surgery.

Hi! I (28f, just discovered this group so I’m still learning the lingo) am two years into my diagnosis and my cycles have been pretty typical thus far I think. Remission for a couple months, 1-3 attacks a day lasting 20mins to an hour on the right side, occasionally woken up by them,sometimes go away on their own after several weeks but if not, I do the predisone taper etc. (I am popping WAY too many ibuprofen, doubt it does anything but makes me feel like I’m a little in control I guess)
The thing is, I usually get a shadow in my right eye/nose before the attack but lately I have been getting a more broad shadow before the attack? My left eye has started to really ache along with my right eye but USUALLY stops once the attack gets further in motion and let’s the right eye do it’s thing. Sometimes it continues to ache while my right eye swells up/droops/cries. It’s a different pain then I’m used too? It just feels like my sinuses are are really effected this go around and I’m pissed because at this point I’m used to the routine and know what to expect but god what gives? I don’t have allergies but maybe I’m developing them and they’re irritated by the CH? I’m sorry if I didn’t make sense I’m just so frustrated and was wondering if anyone else has had a similar experience? I feel like my left eye joining in the fun kinda negates the criteria for CH but I honestly don’t know anymore lol

Hello, I had an MA on Wednesday when I took the misoprostol pills. On that day, I was bleeding a lot and cramping and passed some clots. Fast forward, I still have some light bleeding and light cramping. On Friday, I started feeling sick like I would get a fever but my temp never actually went up to 100. Last night, I had really bad congestion, runny nose, muscle ache, swollen lymph nodes, and it was hurting to swallow, and yellow nasal discharge/phlegm. I went to the urgent care this morning to get checked and tested negative for strep throat and doctor said it could be a viral infection. I was not prescribed any antibiotics and was told to take over the counter medication to manage the symptoms. I am just wondering if what I’m feeling could be any way related to my medical abortion. I am worried that I could have an infection or an incomplete abortion and this is how my body is reacting to it. Any thoughts would be appreciated. Has anyone ever experienced something like this.

I have been crying since Wednesday and since my introverted ass doesn't have any friends I thought this might be a good way to vent out.
On Monday evening my brother went to spend the night at our aunt's place. He went back home the next morning, and at 10 he started saying he wasn't feeling well. He couldn't describe exactly but he complained the whole body ached. They took him to a clinic and they suspect malaria so he was given some malaria drugs. Later that evening he became worse, so they took him back again to the clinic as he was crying that he was in pain. They took a taste and nothing was found, so he was given some pain meds and told to still take the malaria medication.
In the morning of Wednesday, he woke up his knees, elbos and eyes swollen and he was crying, one could tell he was in a lot of pain. They took him to St. Luke's Eldoret where they did a CT scan, but they said they couldn'tsee anything. At this point he is crying and in excruciating pain. So they do more tastes but nothing is found. The doctor's finally suggest he be put in a coma so they could go deeper into his body. They proceed and a 10+ tubes are inserted into his body.... a few hours later, he is pronounced dead. Later a close examination of the CT scan reveals that he might have had a case of rheumatic fever which had remained mild while doing the damage.
He was a sweet little boy who loved animals to death. He was very sharp in school and had even started writing simple computer programs. Thinking about how much pain he went through breaks me little by little. To make matters worse we now have this huge hospital bill (Ksh 1,345,00) that we need to clear before they release the body. I am completely shattered and don't know what to do. We do have a small fundraising but that is not showings any positive outcomes.
Anyway, to you, an online stranger, thank you for listening. Stay safe.
Edit: Thank you all very much for the wishes, makes me feel better. I've had a few people inbox about the fundraising, please feel free to donate though MPesa: Moses: 0798351815 Thank you all.

I’m 33 weeks pregnant with my second child and my body feels like I have the flu. I wake up with body aches throughout my entire body. By the end of the day my stomach almost feels like I stretched a muscle or the way your legs feel after walking too much.
Is this normal? With my first I was already on bed rest by now. This go around I have a toddler I’m chasing and I’m almost further along than I was with the first. I’m not sure if I should be concerned or if these are just normal 3rd trimester pains.

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Edited by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
- - - - -
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26/01/2014 - WWE Royal Rumble
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Commentated by Jim Ross, JBL, and Michael Cole
We see some footage of superstars arriving to the arena today. The Authority arrive in a limousine; WWE Champion Randy Orton, Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane. Daniel Bryan is shown walking with Brie Bella. "The Animal" Batista shows up in a truck and flexes for the camera. The feed cuts and glitches out revealing a dark room with a empty rocking chair moving slowly. "We're here."
The iconic voice of Jim Ross welcomes us to the 2014 Royal Rumble as pyro erupts from the stage and the fans go wild. The Authority's music plays and the mood quickly shifts, the crowd rains down boo's. Here comes the WWE World Champion Randy Orton. Orton talks trash to some fans in the front row while Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane make their way out as well. Orton raises the title as HHH passes him a microphone. Orton is in a great mood tonight. He's got the night off and there will be 30 men all vying for a chance to get RKO'ed in the main event of Wrestlemania 30. The crowd chants, “Daniel Bryan” as Orton laughs and promises that Bryan doesn't stand a chance. If you want to win the Royal Rumble you have to be taller than these marks in the crowd, you can't be a front row wrestler like Daniel Bryan or CM Punk. The crowd breaks into a deafening “DANIEL BRYAN/CM PUNK!” chant as Orton highlights some of the past winners like himself, Triple H, and Batista. True superstars who all pass the airport test. Triple H takes the microphone and tells the fans to shut the hell up and respect greatness. The reason The Authority are out here is because they want an answer from Batista. Will The Animal join them, take the #30 spot, and win the Rumble to make the biggest Wrestlemania main event a reality? Batista's music hits and he gets a great reaction. First of all, Batista thanks the Pittsburgh fans and everyone in the WWE for welcoming him back with open arms. Batista has a ton of respect for Triple H and Orton after all those years in Evolution. They all shake hands and it looks like he's accepting the offer. Triple H tells Batista to make the right decision and do whats best for business. Batista gives the THUMBS UP! The Authority are all psyched up until.... Batista, who still has his thumb in the air, says "What's best for business.... is listening to these fans! Doing things the hard way, the same way he did it through his whole career. Batista didn't come back to be handed anything, he came back to prove he can still be The Animal. The man who beat Triple H in the main event of Wrestlemania.... The thumbs up is turned into a THUMBS DOWN! Kane charges at Batista but gets clotheslined! Randy Orton and Tripe H flee from the ring as The Animal delivers a Spinebuster to Kane and rattles the ropes! Triple H screams that Batista is going to regret this decision.....
A video package of the feud between Divas Champion AJ Lee and Mickie James is next. After AJ Lee defeated Naomi to retain her title on RAW, AJ declared she had no competition in the locker room. Cue the surprise return of Mickie James! Former psycho versus current psycho, legend versus future legend. They exchange verbal barbs over the next few weeks, with Mickie picking up some big wins and earning a title match. During a contract signing on the final RAW before the Royal Rumble, things finally turned physical and Mickie put AJ Lee through a table with a huge bulldog from the top rope! Everything comes to a head tonight with the championship on the line.
Tony Chimel lets us know that this contest is scheduled for one fall as Mickie James makes her entrance and gets emotional at the ovation from the audience in Pittsburgh. Divas Champion AJ Lee is next and she gets a mixed reaction; the fans love her but are definitely backing Mickie in this one.
AJ Lee (c) vs. Mickie James for the WWE Divas Championship
The match kicks off with AJ slapping Mickie across the face! James returns the favour and tackles AJ, raining down a flurry of punches. AJ Lee cowers into the corner but then takes advantage by slamming Mickie to the mat by her hair! AJ taunts Mickie and stomps her in the corner but when the champion charges, Mickie backdrops her over the ropes! Mickie hits a Thez Press from the apron and tosses AJ into the barricade!
They battle on the apron until AJ sends Mickie head first into the ringpost. Mickie seems genuinely hurt and the referee goes to check on her, allowing AJ to expose the turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring. She shows no regard for her possibly injured challenger, ignoring the ref and dragging Mickie back into the centre of the ring. Out of nowhere, James nails the Mick Kick! AJ is down! 1-2-AJ gets her foot underneath the bottom rope! James goes for the Stratus-faction but AJ Lee launches her into the exposed turnbuckle! Mickie James is out cold! 1-2-3! AJ retains!
Result- AJ Lee wins by pinfall via exposed turnbuckle shot. (12:58)
The Royal Rumble tumbler is back! Stephanie McMahon is overseeing things as superstars enter to pick their spots in the Royal Rumble. We see Alberto Del Rio, Brodus Clay, and other superstars pick their numbers. Triple H and Paul Heyman in the background; they shake hands and it appears that HHH hands Heyman something before he walks off.
"The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes is here! He introduces his sons, the WWE World Tag Team Champions Cody Rhodes and Goldust! The champions hug their father and make their way to the ring for a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match! After being on the wrong side of The Authority, The Rhodes Brothers have been put in quite the predicament as they look to retain their title's against all odds.
Cody Rhodes and Goldust (c) vs. The New Age Outlaws vs. The Prime Time Players vs. Truth & Consequences vs. Hunico and Camacho vs. The Uso's in a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match for the WWE World Tag Team Championship
Everything breaks down right off the bat. Bodies are flying everywhere. The Uso's hit a pair of dives over the ropes onto a pile of opponents. Back in the ring Hunico and Camacho eat a pair of Superkicks. Uso Splash to Hunico! 1-2-3!
Jey Uso pins Hunico via Uso Splash (Hunico and Camacho are eliminated)
The Prime Time Players take their turn dominating. Titus hits a Sit-Out Spinebuster to Billy Gunn. Darren Young launches Road Dogg from the ring and dropkicks an incoming Jimmy Uso. Xavier Woods comes out of nowhere with a springboard DDT on Titus O'Neil! Darren Young gets hit with a spinning elbow from R-Truth! Woods and Truth connect with a double Scissor Kick on Titus for the 3 count.
R-Truth pins Titus O'Neil via Double Scissors Kick (The Prime Time Players are eliminated)
Road Dogg chopblocks R-Truth immediately and throws him into the ringpost. Woods gets some shots in on Dogg but turns around into a Fameasser from Billy Gunn! 1-2-3!
Billy Gunn pins Xavier Woods via Fameasser (Truth & Consequences are eliminated)
Road Dogg grabs one of the tag title belts and brings it in the ring. The referee tries to stop him but Billy warns the referee that Triple H will fire him if he gets in their way. Billy holds Goldust as Road Dogg charges with the title ---- Goldust low blows Billy Gunn and ducks; Road Dogg knocks out Billy Gunn with the title belt! Cody Rhodes grabs Road Dogg and hits the Cross Rhodes!
Cody Rhodes pins Billy Gunn via Cross Rhodes (The New Age Outlaws are eliminated)
We are down to two teams. The Rhodes Brothers and The Uso's. The teams gather themselves in opposite corners as the crowd swells to a fever pitch. All four slug it out in the middle. Double Superkick to Goldust sends him to the floor. Cody hits the Bionic Elbow to Jimmy! Alabama Slam to Jey! Cody is all fired up! Cody goes for the Cross Rhodes but nearly gets pinned on a roll up. Double Superkick to Cody! Both The Uso's climb to the top rope but Goldust comes back in and drops Jimmy right on his yambags! Goldust meets Jey on the other side and delivers a giant superplex! BUT JIMMY RECOVERS AND FLIES OFF THE TOP! USO SPLASH TO GOLDUST! 1-2-CODY BREAKS UP THE PIN! Cody hits a Disaster Kick to Jimmy but gets Superkicked by Jey! With his last gasp of energy, Goldust nails Jey with the Final Cut! 1-2-3! Cody and Goldust retain!
Goldust pins Jey Uso via The Final Cut
Result- Cody Rhodes and Goldust retain the WWE World Tag Team Championship. (15:59)
CM Punk is taping his wrists in the locker room when Corporate Kane approaches with a bunch of security. Punk stands up ready to defend himself. But Kane tells him to calm down. He's here with a gift from The Authority. Kane hands Punk a Rumble number from the tumbler and tells him on behalf of The Authority, they wish him luck tonight. Kane leaves as punk opens the ball and shakes his head.
A video package showcases the rivalry between the United States Champion Dean Ambrose and Rob Van Dam. After RVD became # 1 Contender, The Shield brutalized him in a 3 on 1 beatdown. The next week, Rob Van Dam attacked Ambrose with a steel chair and delivered a devastating Van Daminator. Ambrose got busted open but the blood seemed to turn him into some kind of maniac. A bloodied Ambrose cut an iconically intense promo backstage in the boiler room where he challenged RVD to a Hardcore match at the Royal Rumble. Rob Van Dam accepted and began to tap into his hardcore style, even going as far as to bring back his old friend Sabu to help him fend off repeated attacks by The Shield. Tonight this rivalry concludes in a Hardcore match for the US Championship.
Dean Ambrose (c) vs. Rob Van Dam for the United States Championship in a Hardcore Match
Van Dam starts off hot with a barrage of kicks to Ambrose. RVD hits his signature barricade legdrop from the apron! He pulls out a kendo stick and starts unloading on the champion. Ambrose stops the beating by raking RVD's eyes and then snapping the kendo stick in half. Ambrose goes berserk, stabbing RVD with the sharp part of the broken kendo stick repeatedly in the corner as JR tells the TV audience to put their kids to bed because "this match is going to be bowling shoe ugly folks". Van Dam slides out of the ring and we see he's bleeding profusely. Ambrose stalks his prey on the outside but RVD tosses a steel chair full speed at his head! RVD goes under the ring and grabs a couple of trash cans and a lid. He smashes Ambrose over the head with the lid and throws him in the ring. RVD sets up a table on the outside but is momentarily distracted, trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes which allows Ambrose to crush one of the trash cans over Van Dam's head. Like a shark that smells blood in the water, Ambrose pounces on RVD and unloads punches to his open cut. The referee pulls him off and checks on RVD. But Ambrose is not done. Far from it. He goes under the ring and grabs a barbed wired baseball bat! As he gets in the ring, RVD kicks the barbed wired bat into Ambrose's face! Spike DDT! Van Dam puts a trash can over Ambrose's head and props him in the corner. VAN TERMINATOR WITH A STEEL CHAIR INTO THE TRASH CAN! RVD slowly drapes his arm over Ambrose. 1-2-Dean somehow kicks out! They exchange punches in the middle of the ring until Ambrose bites RVD's bloody head!!! RVD punches Ambrose just to get him off of him but Dean rebounds with a lariat that turns RVD inside out! Instead of going for the pin, Ambrose picks up the barbed wired baseball bat and smashes RVD in the back repeatedly! Van Dam rolls to the apron but Ambrose follows him and starts grinding the barbed wire in RVD's face! Using the pure adrenaline of survival instinct, RVD reverses into a suplex over the ropes, sending he and Ambrose crashing through the table on the outside!
The fans chant "Holy shit!" as the announcers question how much more these guys, specifically RVD, can take. RVD is first to his feet and throws Ambrose in the ring. RVD climbs to the top rope but Ambrose hits the ropes and causes him to lose balance. He tosses RVD off the top rope onto a trash can! Ambrose goes under the ring and grabs a bag..... The referee tries to stop him but Ambrose shoves him to the ground and empties the contents all over the ring ---- IT'S THUMBTACKS! He turns around and catches a steel chair hurled at him by RVD! VAN TERMINATOR! Ambrose falls into the tacks! RVD goes up top! FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH INTO THE TACKS! "BY GAWD!" Cover! 1-2-Ambrose kicks out by shoving a handful of tacks into RVD's face! Van Dam screams in pain as a now bloody Ambrose pulls himself to his feet and smiles. DIRTY DEEDS ON THE TACKS! 1-2-3!
Result- Dean Ambrose wins by pinfall via Dirty Deeds onto thumbtacks! (22:22)
Rob Van Dam is taken out on a stretcher as Dean Ambrose sits bloodied in the corner, with thumbtacks all over him and the United States Title over his shoulder, admiring his work.
Writer's Note: This match writes RVD out for the foreseeable future to give him a well deserved break. Ambrose is put over as a sadistic, hardcore, psycho path on RVD's way out.
We cut backstage where Mark Henry and The Big Show are picking their numbers. Stephanie McMahon plays nice with the legendary giants, telling them that there are always advantages to helping The Authority. Mark Henry laughs her off and walks out but Big Show appears to contemplate her words. Daniel Bryan walks in and has a face off with Triple H. Bryan wants to pick his Rumble number but HHH tells him there's only one ball left. He teases not giving it to him but places it in his hands. Bryan opens it, shakes his head and smiles, saying he wouldn't expect anything less from The Authority.
A video package on the history of the Royal Rumble match is next, highlighting past winners, elimination records, and obscure statistics. Ladies and gentlemen. We promised you a great main event.
Main Event- 30 Man Royal Rumble Match
1. Daniel Bryan
2. CM Punk
The two heroes of our story; enemies of The Authority that have been given the insurmountable task of winning from the opening spots if they want to main event Wrestlemania. They slug it out and the fans love every second of it.
3. Big E Langston
The Intercontinental Champion gets a chance to showcase his abilities in full spotlight. He tosses Bryan and Punk around much to the chagrin of the crowd. Punk and Bryan team up to stop the onslaught and slow the big man down.
4. Mark Henry
The World's Strongest Man double clotheslines Punk and Bryan before squaring up with Big E. The two meaty men begin slappin' meat until Henry squashes the IC Champion in the corner and takes advantage.
5. Alexander Rusev
The Bulgarian Brute from NXT goes nose to nose with Mark Henry. Rusev kicks Henry in the head and then charges full speed, clobbering him and sending Mark crashing from the ring for our first official elimination of the night!
Alexander Rusev eliminates Mark Henry
6. Evan Bourne
Bourne quickens the pace of the match and hits a barrage of high flying moves until he meets the brick wall known as Rusev. Rusev gets Bourne in a precarious position and clotheslines him so hard that he takes a nasty backflip bump off the apron ala Paul London 2005.
Alexander Rusev eliminates Evan Bourne
Rusev turns around and realizes he's surrounded by Bryan, Punk, and Big E! He fights valiantly but it's no use. YES+ Knee by Bryan! Rusev is rocked but still standing! GTS by Punk! Rusev is STILL somehow on his feet but falls back against the ropes ..... A clothesline from Big E sends Rusev over the ropes for another elimination!
Big E Langston eliminates Alexander Rusev
7. Alberto Del Rio w/Ricardo Rodriguez
As a former World Champion and Royal Rumble winner, Del Rio has to be considered dangerous in this match. He hits a nasty double foot stomp on Big E and trash talks the fans as they boo him out of the building. Bryan and Punk hit a Hart Attack on Del Rio to a massive pop!
8. Kevin Nash
It looks like The Authority have a couple of tricks up their sleeve tonight. Nash immediately targets Punk and Bryan, savouring the boo's from the audience. Meanwhile, Big E nearly has Del Rio eliminated until Rodriguez hops on the apron and allows Del Rio to get the advantage by jamming him thumb in Big E's eye! Del Rio kicks Big E in the face and eliminates the Intercontinental Champion!
Alberto Del Rio eliminates Big E Langston
Del Rio and Nash team up to beat down Punk and Bryan.
9. John Cena
Business is about to pick up! Cena hits the ring and takes the fight to Del Rio and Nash! AA to Del Rio! Nash immediately takes Cena down with a big boot and mocks the fans, pretending to cry. Jackknife Powerbomb to Cena! Nash tosses Punk over the ropes but Punk skins the cat and starts kicking Nash in his surgically repaired knee's.
10. Big Show
Nash throws Punk into the ring post and has a face off with The World's Largest Athlete. Nash extends his hand, wondering if Show is going to take The Authority up on their offer. Big Show teases joining him --- psych! Knockout Punch by Big Show! Nash crumples to the mat. The fans love it as Big Show gets hyped up and then starts chopping Del Rio in the corner.
11. X-Pac
Another surprise return! But is this another legend doing the bidding of The Authority? Pac does some crotch chops and gets a good reaction as he fist bumps The Big Show and hits a Bronco Buster to Del Rio! But X-Pac cannot be trusted as he kicks Big Show right in the family jewels! Kevin Nash pulls himself to his feet and two sweets X-Pac! Nash goes to stomping on The Big Show as Pac charges for a Bronco Buster on Punk ---- Cena takes X-Pac's head off with a clothesline and then AA's him from the ring!
John Cena eliminates X-Pac
Cena, Punk, and Bryan all attack Kevin Nash and buy enough time for Big Show to recover. Show grabs Nash by the throat and pushes him back over the ropes!
Big Show eliminates Kevin Nash
Show, Cena, Punk, Bryan, and Del Rio all fight and try to eliminate each other as the buzzer sounds for the next entrant.
12. Bray Wyatt
The mood has shifted in the arena! Bray Wyatt comes in like an absolute killer, wrecking everyone in his path. Sister Abigail to CM Punk! Daniel Bryan is the last one standing and the crowd breaks out into thunderous "YES!" chants as Bryan and Wyatt exchange stiff slaps and beat the piss out of each other!
13. Erick Rowan
A coincidence or the puppet strings of The Authority? The Wyatt Family now has two members and begin to dominate. Big Show grabs their throats but Rowan breaks free with several headbutts! Big Show slumps back against the ropes --- Wyatt and Rowan dump him to the floor!
Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan eliminate Big Show
Wyatt sits in the corner moving his hands like a orchestra conductor as Rowan chokes Daniel Bryan on the opposite side of the ring. Del Rio tries to eliminate John Cena.
14. Brodus Clay
The Funkasaurus is in no dancing mood, he knows how serious this opportunity is and he also knows what he's up against. As soon as he slides in the ring, Wyatt and Rowan put the boots to him. Clay fights back but it's no use. It's Wyatt Family domination as Bray hits a Sister Abigail and then Rowan throws the big man over the ropes.
Erick Rowan eliminates Brodus Clay
CM Punk is Bray Wyatt's next target but he fights for his life and hits a big roundhouse kick to Rowan! Bray has to fend for himself and he smiles, it's time to dance!
15. Kofi Kingston
Kingston is a house of fire, flying all over the ring. SOS to Bray Wyatt! Trouble in Paradise to Del Rio! Kingston springboards off the ropes but gets caught by Erick Rowan! Rowan press slams Kofi to the outside ---- Kofi lands on the barricade! He trust falls back into the crowd and they surf him around as the arena breaks out into huge "KOFI!" chants.
16. Santino Marella
Santino breaks out THE COBRA! Wyatt does the creepy spider walk which freaks Santino out ---- he eliminates himself and walks to the back!
Santino Marella eliminates himself
17. Ezekiel Jackson
As Jackson walks down to the ring, the crowd bring Kofi back to the barricade and he hops to the apron! Bray Wyatt launches himself into Kofi, sending him flying into in the arms of Ezekiel Jackson! Kofi is all pumped up at avoiding elimination twice but Jackson bodyslams Kofi on the floor! Kofi is now out and Big Zeke has his first elimination before he even gets in the ring!
Ezekiel Jackson eliminates Kofi Kingston
Jackson joins the match and exchanges some shoulder blocks with Erick Rowan. Bray Wyatt continues to brawl with Daniel Bryan while John Cena fights Del Rio.
18. Christian
Captain Charisma joins the match and finds himself squaring off with his old rival Ezekiel Jackson. Jackson gets him up for a Powerslam but Christian fights out and hits the Killswitch! Christian then ducks a Bray Wyatt clothesline and hits a Spear! Del Rio cheapshots Christian and tells the fans to shut up as he chokes Captain Charisma in the corner.
19. Chris Jericho
Y2J makes quite the entrance with a boatload of pyro. Jericho slaps Del Rio and locks in the Walls of Jericho! The ring begins to fill up now as strategy changes this late into the match; nobody wants to risk elimination at this point.
20. The Boogeyman
JBL gets real quiet all of a sudden as the legend crawls out and smashes a clock on his head! Boogeyman gets in the ring and begins eating a handful of worms! This gets Bray Wyatt's attention and the two spooky guys have a staredown. The Eater of Worlds vs. The Eater of Worms. Boogeyman sets Wyatt up for the Pumphandle Slam but Erick Rowan boots him in the head and then tosses him from the ring!
Erick Rowan eliminates The Boogeyman
21. Fandango w/Summer Rae
As Fandango dances his way to the ring, Christian and Jericho team up to eliminate Ezekiel Jackson.
Christian and Chris Jericho eliminate Ezekiel Jackson
Fandango sets his sights on Jericho and shows a more vicious side of himself, stomping Y2J relentlessly. Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan try to eliminate Christian.
22. Luke Harper
The Wyatt Family is now at full strength. They dominate the field and Luke Harper clotheslines Fandango off the apron!
Luke Harper eliminates Fandango
Bray instructs them to eliminate Bryan but Punk and Cena have something to say about that.
23. Bad News Barrett
As Barrett picks the most opportune time to enter, The Wyatt Family gang up on Christian and Bray Wyatt tosses him out!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Christian
Chris Jericho puts up a fight, nailing Rowan with a Codebreaker! The numbers game is still in The Wyatt Family's favour --- Harper decapitates Y2J with a clothesline, and Wyatt eliminates him as well!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Chris Jericho
The clock begins to countdown so Barrett is forced to roll in the ring and Harper attacks him.
24. Shelton Benjamin
AIN'T NO STOPPIN' ME, NOOOO! The Gold Standard makes his return to WWE and gets a nice ovation from the Pittsburgh crowd. He single handedly ends The Wyatt Family's domination by diving onto all three of them! As Bray Wyatt scurries to his feet, Shelton greets him with a T-Bone Suplex! Erick Rowan charges full speed at Daniel Bryan but Bryan avoids him by pulling the rope down and Rowan crashes to the floor!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Erick Rowan
Rowan is pissed and starts dismantling the announce table until the referee's force him to leave. The ring is full of superstars with full intentions of headlining Wrestlemania. Bryan and Punk are spent. Cena too. Del Rio hides in the corner to stay alive. Shelton battles it out with Barrett and Harper. Wyatt pulls himself to his feet.
25. Batista
THE ANIMAL IS HERE! Batista is a one man wrecking crew. Spinebuster to Luke Harper! Batista Bomb to Barrett! Del Rio sneaks up and attempts to toss Batista out but The Animal reverses his momentum and eliminates Del Rio!
Batista eliminates Alberto Del Rio
Batista and Bray Wyatt lock eyes. Wyatt loves it and yells "Show me that Animal, David!" Batista crushes him with a Spear and then finds himself face to face with John Cena. Cena is much more exhausted and ends up getting Spinebustered for his troubles.
26. Roman Reigns
The powerhouse of The Shield enters the ring with bad intentions; Spear to Shelton Benjamin! Superman Punch to Daniel Bryan! Reigns and Batista do battle until Wyatt and Harper attack them ---- Batista and Reigns hit a pair of Spears to The Wyatt Family!
27. Dolph Ziggler
Ziggler comes down with a microphone and tells everyone in the ring that this is his year. Number 27 is the most coveted position as more people have won the Rumble from this spot than any other. He smashes Batista with the microphone and unloads punches on The Animal! Dolph with a Superkick to Barrett and a Zig Zag to John Cena! 10 superstars are left in the ring with 3 more to make their entrance.
28. Seth Rollins
The Architect of The Shield is here and he joins Roman Reigns as they go face to face with Wyatt and Harper! Electricity in the air folks! Things break down; Bray and Roman fight in the corner as Harper drops Rollins with a clothesline! John Cena hoists Luke Harper up and sends him to the floor with an AA!
John Cena eliminates Luke Harper
Bad News Barrett sneaks up and dumps Cena from the ring! John Cena is eliminated! Revenge for The Nexus at last!
Bad News Barrett eliminates John Cena
29. Sheamus
The Celtic Warrior imediately Brogue Kicks Shelton off the apron!
Sheamus eliminates Shelton Benjamin
Everyone fights as the clock counts down for our final entrant.
30. Brock Lesnar w/Paul Heyman
Now we know what Triple H gifted Paul Heyman earlier! The Beast enters the ring and F5's Bad News Barrett to the floor!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Bad News Barrett
Dolph Ziggler jumps on Brock's back and tries to choke him out but Lesnar reverses into an F5 position! Lesnar sends Dolph flying over the ropes!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Dolph Ziggler
Lesnar now targets Batista and hits a series of shoulder blocks in the corner. He picks The Animal up for an F5 but Batista fights out and clotheslines Brock out of the ring!!!
Batista eliminates Brock Lesnar
Brock is in shock along with the announcers and everyone in the arena. He starts pacing around the ring as Batista sets Bray Wyatt up for a Batista Bomb. Lesnar shoves the referee to the ground and slides back in the ring, tossing Batista out!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Batista
Lesnar smashes Batista with the steel steps and then F5's The Animal through the announce table! We're down to five as Rollins and Punk fight on the apron until Punk hits a GTS! Rollins crumbles unconscious to the floor!
CM Punk eliminates Seth Rollins
The final four of the 2014 Royal Rumble: CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Bray Wyatt, and Roman Reigns. Punk and Bryan entered at number 1 and 2. Incredible accomplishment for them. Roman Reigns Spears Daniel Bryan and then sidesteps Bray Wyatt, sending him flying from the ring!
Roman Reigns eliminates Bray Wyatt
CM Punk hits a GTS on Reigns and all three men are down. Triple H walks down to the ring and rips his jacket off. Kane follows behind him. Punk pulls himself to his feet as tells them to bring it. Randy Orton RKO's CM Punk out of nowhere! The WWE Champion soaks in the boo's as he and Kane throw CM Punk out! "This is bullshit" yells the fans and JR agrees!
Randy Orton and Kane eliminate CM Punk
Triple H smiles and grabs the sledgehammer. Orton and Kane hold Daniel Bryan as HHH charges with the hammer ---- Roman Reigns Spears Triple H! CM Punk pulls Orton from the ring and they brawl into the crowd! Daniel Bryan takes Kane out with the YES+ Knee! With everyone out of the equation, Reigns and Bryan get three minutes of back and forth action, a proper finish to the Rumble. Reigns gets locked in a triangle choke but shows tremendous strength, lifting Bryan up and over the ropes! Bryan holds onto Roman and drags him over with him! They battle on the apron until Bryan viciously kicks Roman in the head! Reigns falls to the floor! Daniel Bryan wins the 2014 Royal Rumble!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Roman Reigns
Winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble: Daniel Bryan
Fireworks explode as Daniel Bryan leads the fans in a YES chant and points at the Wrestlemania sign.

Panel Show Weekly Schedule: Sun May 19 2024

Date	Show	Episode	Summary	Link
Mon May 20 2024 05:30:00 GMT	After Midnight	Season 1 Episode 59	BenDeLaCreme, Rory Scovel, Harvey Guillén - Taylor Tomlinson welcomes drag queen BenDeLaCreme, comic Rory Scovel, and actor Harvey Guillén.	🔗
Mon May 20 2024 10:30:00 GMT	Have You Been Paying Attention?	Season 12 Episode 2	Episode 2 -	🔗
Mon May 20 2024 21:00:00 GMT	Rhod Gilbert's Growing Pains	Series 5 Episode 11	Episode Eleven - Rhod Gilbert is joined by guests Amy Gledhill, Emmanuel Sonubi and Michelle Visage to roll back the clock. What will they learn about each other - and who will be the most embarrassed?	🔗
Tue May 21 2024 02:00:00 GMT	A League of Their Own (2010)	Road Trip: Mexico Episode 1	Episode One - Jamie Redknapp, Jill Scott, Micah Richards, Mo Gilligan and Maisie Adam explore what Mexico has to offer.	🔗
Tue May 21 2024 05:30:00 GMT	After Midnight	Season 1 Episode 60	Jim Rash, Nat Faxon - Taylor Tomlinson welcomes actor Jim Rash and actor Nat Faxon.	🔗
Wed May 22 2024 05:30:00 GMT	After Midnight	Season 1 Episode 61	Andy Richter, Penn Jillette, Aasif Mandvi - Taylor Tomlinson welcomes comic Andy Richter, magician Penn Jillette, and actor Aasif Mandvi.	🔗
Wed May 22 2024 10:30:00 GMT	Gruen	Season 16 - Gruen: Series 16 Episode 2	Episode 2 - The world has gone ad - but the algorithm has delivered brand new Gruen. Returning for an unprecedented and ill-advised 16th season, Wil Anderson and a panel of know-it-alls will pull you out from under the influence.	🔗
Thu May 23 2024 05:30:00 GMT	After Midnight	Season 1 Episode 62	Marcella Arguello, Thomas Lennon - Taylor Tomlinson welcomes comic Marcella Arguello and actor Thomas Lennon.	🔗
Thu May 23 2024 09:30:00 GMT	7 Days (2009)	Season 16 Episode 8	Thursday May 23 2024 -	🔗
Thu May 23 2024 09:30:00 GMT	Taskmaster (AU)	Season 2 Episode 1	Episode 1 - Contestants: Anne Edmonds, Jenny Tian, Josh Thomas, Lloyd Langford, Wil Anderson	🔗
Thu May 23 2024 21:00:00 GMT	Taskmaster	Series 17 Episode 9	Assistantbury - As the series climax approaches, Little Alex Horne risks raising notoriously prickly Greg Davies' hackles with a task in celebration of himself. Sophie Willan is baffled by mirror writing, John Robins proves to be a talented tailor, Steve Pemberton has an expletive-laden row with a bin, Joanne McNally finds a novel use for a cow's ear, and Nick Mohammed brings a tear to Greg's eye.	🔗
Fri May 24 2024 00:00:00 GMT	The Good, The Bad And The Unexpected	Series 17 Episode 5	Episode Five - The show where comedians work out the good from the bad, with a few unexpected twists.	🔗
Fri May 24 2024 21:00:00 GMT	Have I Got News for You	Series 67 Episode 8	Episode Eight - University Challenge host Amol Rajan takes charge, with Richard Osman and Baroness Ruth Davidson as the guests.	🔗
Sat May 25 2024 17:00:00 GMT	Suurmestari	Season 5 Episode 11	Make a new friend - Contestants: Eero Ritala, Joonas Nordman, Pamela Tola, Pirjo Lonka	🔗

Hello, one and all. Been lurking for a while. Thought I'd share my experience thus far. I'm a 45-year-old female (active, healthy weight, tall – BMI around 20) who herniated L4/L5 in early January. I'm, therefore, four months, two weeks post-injury.
It's a mild-ish protrusion pressing on nerves and causing sciatica. I have never had back pain. I'm a Brit. I plan to get over this conservatively and do not intend to have any injections or surgery. Note that I have some trouble lifting my left foot and walking as normal on that side, but everything is functional. I am able to lift my toes and heels, and I have full sensation everywhere.
From my scan, disc height is compromised only a tiny bit (I have juicy discs). I have a very wide and spacious nerve canal. No other issues aside from a transitional disc below (born with more bone than disc at L5/S1, very common, and I'm luckily in the "won't cause pain" camp) and a slight bulging disc above, which isn't pressing on anything. The transitional disc is likely to have led to this injury. But moving house finally pushed me over the edge, lifting things the wrong way.

The first month

The first month was obviously painful. Terrible sleep; sciatica was awful (burning in my left calf and left foot with some right foot tingling), and I was very stiff and leaning forward most mornings. Doing McKenzie cobras in those early days helped massively. And amazingly, I kept up with walking and averaged 15,000 steps daily. It wasn't painful. But I was taking Ibuprofen and paracetamol. I believe a lot of my sciatica has been caused by inflammation.
Back then, I was seeing a physio and doing some basic pelvic tilts, bridges, calf stretches, cat/camels, and – like I mentioned – cobra poses. Otherwise, I would mostly lie on the floor, on my front, resting. Or walking outdoors. It would take me three hours just to pluck up the courage to shower. And I could only stand under the hot water for less than a minute before lying on the floor again. Sitting was impossible. I couldn't use the car. I couldn't sleep on my left side. I would crawl down the stairs each morning after barely any sleep and go straight to the drugs. I couldn't make breakfast or do anything. But as each day wore on, I'd become less stiff and more upright and be able to walk for miles.

In search of a silver bullet

I tried everything in February and March. Acupuncture, physio, McKenzie stuff... They put me on Amitriptyline initially, but I hated it. And so they gave me Gabapentin. This helped with sleep and dialled down the pain significantly (I was on 300mg three times a day). I vaguely remember a crazy day when I walked into my local town, sat, and had cake and tea with an old friend. Still to this day, I can't figure out how! Boy, those drugs worked!
By the end of February, I discovered Egoscue and began posture therapy. I did it religiously for six weeks and even began working with a therapist. But it wasn't helping. And I didn't see any improvements. I also decided to come off the Gabapentin during this time (I would later go back on it, as I was in a lot of pain), as I felt totally off my face and hated it.
Around February, I also discovered Dr Stuart McGill. And read his excellent book, Back Mechanic. I learnt about spine hygiene and loads of other helpful stuff. Gradually, little by little, turning in bed got easier (brace that core) and getting up out of bed and off the toilet became pain-free, too. But I just wasn't seeing massive improvement.

Finding the right approach

That's when I decided to see a Master Clinician under McGill. Wow. It was the best money I had ever spent, and I'd spent more on acupuncture!
He went through my scan, was the only one to tell me about the transitional disc, and asked what I'd been doing thus far. He recommended that I give the posture therapy and the walking a break, just for a few weeks, to see if we could calm the inflammation down. And so I did. I rested. I mostly lay on the floor on my front or back and only moved around the house. No outdoor walking. No McKenzie cobra poses (which I've since discovered do more harm than good long-term and adopt a gentler version McGill recommends and says is just as effective). That was back in early April. And following his advice alone? I saw immediate improvements. In fact, the very next day, I was pain-free for seven hours. I couldn't believe it – just by resting.
I only rested for three weeks, and then I decided to try walking outdoors again. My gosh. The difference after the break! I could barely do ten minutes around the block without pain. It was too much. (I could never walk first thing before either – only later on in the day. But it would usually be fine.) But my back specialist wanted me to try walking three times a day, starting small. So, I persisted. He told me to stop if walking made things worse, though. Thankfully, it's been three weeks since I began walking outdoors again, and I'm making great progress. I can now get up from bed and walk immediately (I had to give it an hour before I ventured out of the house). And I can walk for half an hour, too. Three times a day. I find that a morning walk is crucial. I am stiff and a little sore at first, but it eases. And sets me up for the day. I also enjoy two or three hours of no pain when returning home.

Finally seeing progress

Since early April, the improvements have been gradual but almost daily. They're so small sometimes that you hardly notice them! It's only when you look back that you realise how far you've come!
In the six weeks since I worked with my back specialist, I have seen the constant burning sciatica in my foot and calf mostly disappear. Initially, I had a lot of fuzzing. That has now subsided, and since then, it's gone from fuzzing to cold water feelings and tingling... with occasional burning again (mostly only in the top of my calf), but that goes quickly. Now and again, I'll get a random ten minutes of a burning foot again, but it soon disappears.
A few weeks ago, I started getting new sharp and painful jolts in my left hip. That's apparently blood returning to the nerves. For the last week, I have barely had any foot or calf issues—I mostly have sharp pulling nerve pain on my left kneecap and similar symptoms in my hip. Only in the last month have I occasionally started to get a bruised feeling in my lumbar spine.
The morning stiffness and leaning forward? Gone. I am bolt-upright every morning and feel pretty good, posture-wise. Funny enough, since I quit doing the posture therapy. Go figure!
My glutes are very tight and constantly holding themselves. I'm trying to teach them to relax, but it's tough, as I know they're protecting themselves. I've been using heat to relax them—just a microwaved wheat sack some mornings.
Under a week ago, I came off Gabapentin. And I also quit Ibuprofen about five weeks ago. The only meds I take now are paracetamol – just one dose in the middle of the night to calm my (good) right hip that gets sore from only sleeping on that side.

How far I've come

Here I am, four months and two weeks post-injury. I still can't sit on a soft surface (I use a special sciatica cushion on a dining chair), I can't sit in a vehicle for the same reason, I can't sleep on my left side, and I still have some mild foot drop but am walking better.
On a positive note, the pain symptoms are changing daily, which is apparently a good sign. I am starting to feel some back pain for the first time, too. Centralisation is perhaps occurring. Instead of lying on the floor for several hours before breakfast, I now find better relief in standing and moving around. I can also sit for short spurts on my dining chair first thing in the morning, whereas before, I'd only be able to do that from midday.
I'm sleeping better. Six or seven hours a night. It's a tad broken, but I feel rested. And when I get up in the morning? Whereas before, my left leg and foot would go crazy with fuzzing and burning, now? Nothing. A mild tingling some mornings, but otherwise, fine.
I spend more of my days moving around, standing, walking, and occasionally sitting than "resetting" on the floor. And when I do feel sciatica getting worse, a brief rest on the floor makes the pain go away. It's never 100 per cent pain-free, you understand. It's mildly uncomfortable and feels like it could get worse at any moment, but I'm good.
And I'm finding that if I overdo it, any flare-up I might have is brief and easily overcome. Whereas before, it might've been five days to recover, now it's an hour resting on the floor.
If I stand at my standing desk for too long, my lumbar ache begins. It's not painful. It just feels weird—bruised, almost unstable, like I can feel it stacked. I lie down, reset, and then I'm good to go.

What has really helped

I now know what to do to avoid triggering pain. I can tie my shoes with my foot on a bench and lunge in. I have a shoe horn – a game-changer! I also use a strapped-on ice pack when I need to calm my nerves. Less so these days. And heat on my ass when the glutes feel too tight. I only take paracetamol in the middle of the night to help me sleep. Oh, and I find going to bed with an ice pack on sometimes really helps!
The meds definitely helped in those painful early days; but I need feedback. Once I felt I could, I stopped taking everything.
During this time, I also hired a cleaner (fortnightly) and a gardener. I've not stopped working (I have no choice; I am a freelancer). And I have no kids. So I don't have to commute anywhere. I stay at home and rest, and the only time I leave the house is to walk. I also invested in a new mattress, a game changer (John Ryan Artisan Luxury, if anyone wants to know – I did have a firm mattress before, and discovered it wasn't helping at all. Way too firm. Based on my weight and height, I needed a medium – who knew?) I am very lucky in all of these respects, I know.
The walking really helps – but it was only when I stopped, rested, and allowed by body to heal that I noticed a difference in my symptoms.

Not out the woods yet...

Pain is still an issue. Evenings are the worst. I go to bed around 9pm and lying there brings relief and I have no issue going to sleep. I only wake after about three or four hours due to sleeping on the same side every night. And then easily fall back to sleep, with only a few brief waking moments. I roughly get around six or seven hours a night. And thankfully, sciatica isn't really present at night (maybe a little harmless fuzzing). Just the evenings before bed – that's when it can get intense and the burning in my calf and foot can come back tenfold. Sigh.
Mornings are my best friend now. Pain doesn't usually become an issue until much later in the day. I'll have little episodes. But I can swiftly reset myself and move on. It can get harder to reset the later in the day it becomes, too. Some days are worse than others. The good days are starting to outweigh the bad. When I have an awful day, I do feel disheartened. But then I remember how far I've come, and try and stay strong.
I don't always do my three walks, either. If that evening walk doesn't feel right, I won't do it. I'll rest. I'll ice my back and lie down. I absolutely am trying to avoid drugs. But I have ibuprofen in my cupboard, just in case!

What's next?

I'm nowhere near ready to begin strength training. And I've avoided all physio and stretching of late. I am just doing what my back specialist recommends. Some mild cat/camels to get the blood flowing, walking, resting. I take magnesium, turmeric, vitamins D and B12, omega-3. I try to avoid sugar and alcohol (I don't always succeed on that one). I'm not ready for longer walks yet. And there's no way I could take a bath, sit up in bed, or sit on the sofa.
But I am healing. This has been quite the journey, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm excited for the next phase of recovery: rehab! And boy, will I be taking it seriously—for the rest of my life! It's down to us, after all. No one can do it for us.
There are some big life events coming up that I know I'm not ready for. When they get closer, if I'm still not better, I will call my GP and ask for advice. Ibuprofen might be brought out again. Perhaps even something stronger. But if I'm one of the lucky ones, I should be seeing further progress in the coming weeks and months.
I rate my ability to function normally when I can sleep on my left side again, drive my car and when I can sit on the sofa, too! I won't mind if there is some residual pain and weakness. As long as I can function without having the crux of a floor and yoga mat nearby.

Key takeaways

• Sleep is everything. Prioritise sleep. Get a new mattress if you can (make sure you get the right one for you – in my case, medium! Because bad backs don't necessarily need firm surfaces). Lie on your side with a pillow between your knees or on your back with a pillow below your knees.
• Read Back Mechanic by Stuart McGill as soon as possible – learn how to avoid pain triggers.
• Take the meds when you need to. But remember, they are masking a lot of pain. So go easy!
• Drink lots of water. Stay hydrated for your spine.
• Take some supplements but do your research. I take magnesium (muscle), turmeric (anti-inflammatory), vitamins B12 (nerves) and D (bone), and omega-3 (joints and bones).
• Ice when trying to calm the nerves; heat when trying to relax the muscles.
• Try and avoid sugar and alcohol – they cause inflammation.
• Walk when you can. Start gradually. Once in the morning – as soon as you get up; once after lunch and once after dinner. Start at two minutes if you have to. Build to half an hour each time. Once you can do this with little to no pain, try some longer walks. Take long strides, swing your arms from the shoulders, and keep a good neutral posture.
• Listen to your body! Rest when you need to.
• Stay positive. Create fun little rituals throughout your days. Start a new hobby. Keep mentally strong. Call friends and family. Get people to visit you if you can.
• Only do what's essential. Sod the housework! Get food shops delivered. And develop a more relaxed attitude to everything – do you really need to sort the ironing?
• Buy some comfortable loungewear. Game-changer!
• Most of all, time is the biggest healer. These things can take up to two years to settle. The average is apparently six months. Everyone is different.

I am more than happy to answer any questions. I hope this has helped someone. It's certainly helped me to get it all on screen. And I wanted to thank this community for all I've learned this year. I hope you're not in too much pain.