My family is extremely abusive. I left a domestic violent home and now they are coming to my new residence and harassing me. I called the police multiple times, but they still show up.
How can I get a restraining order or other forms of protection in ontario? What will the costs be? I am worried that the judge/lawyers might start interrogating me going into my job, education, other history etc. Right now, I work as freelance, self-employed. I don't have any previous charges or criminal records. It will be my first time in court.
What should I expect in the court hearing? What questions will be asked to me?

I am turning 38f in a just a few months. I am currently in my first cycle of egg freezing. I suspect I might get 8 eggs (so not a ton). It is expensive and unlikely to be successful...
I always wanted children.
I was in a relationship with the love of my life for about 7 years until a HORRIBLE breakup. I was around 31. Honestly I am still not over it (in the deepest crevices of my heart) years later. He was the person I wanted to have children with...
Then, I contracted herpes after a sexual assault when I finally started dating again (around age 33). I lost all my confidence to date after this (although I have attempted). It really messed me up emotionally. Then...the pandemic happened....
Soooo my 30s did not go as planned....fuck!
For the past 4 years I have been in a situationship. My "partner" 38m is an incredibly kind man. However, he is financially and emotionally immature. He is loving and gentle natured but has zero sense of life responsibility or ambition. He does have a lovely family (who would support us) and will inherit some wealth one day (when we are both old). However, he does not have a career of his own (which is unattractive) or any vision for his life.
Given my late age, I am wondering if I should just have a baby with him? He is not the person I dreamt of being with and I would be making a lot of sacrifices. I think my stress and quality of life would be negatively impacted by having a partner who is not my equal.
I feel so alone because every time I try to talk to him about a life plan...he isnt able to respond (what would childcare look like? how would our finances be if I couldnt work (since he doesnt have a good income), where would we live?)...so EVERY decision would be on my back. If I didnt have herpes and I was not so old, I would leave and start again. However, that is not my reality.
On the plus side, he is ALWAYS willing to talk through feelings and knows where I stand. I am completely honest with him. And he still wants to be with me. He does express an interest in having kids (but doesnt think about how/what that means).
I feel angry and unattracted to him at times. Yet I also appreciate him deeply in other moments and think I am being too picky. If I was younger, I would enjoy his company a bit longer and then move on. He is not my forever person. However, given my age I feel I may just need to settle (which is awful to admit). I have been stuck in this place for a while and am looking for advice. He would be a great dad as he has a soft heart and has a good set of (grand)parents for our kid. He would be a terrible father because he could not/would not contribute at all to his child's financial security or be able to teach hard work/responsibility. He gives up on pretty much everything (except being a nice guy).
My own childhood trauma is having a dad who contributed NOTHING to our household and a mother who was stretched WAY too thin...so it kinda breaks my heart seeing this possibly repeat (although my partner is not an alcoholic asshole at at least!).
I have a career, my own assets, desire for children, + feel pretty set...just missing the right partner.
Advice?

I currently work as a web and digital manager for a US-based nonprofit organization. Our department is interested in building up our capacity in digital marketing, analytics, being more data-driven and being more strategic about how metrics are used to measure effectiveness of our communications efforts and how we can adjust tactics and strategies based on that information. If digital marketing were a martial art, our organization is at the level of a white belt.
For the future, I am interested in becoming a digital director. A big component in many jobs I've seen is mastery of digital marketing and leading efforts in it for an organization.
For potential next career moves, I see two options:
1) Stay in my current org and build up their digital marketing capacity, and my skills and experience doing so. I am well-established, on the upper range in salary band, and get along well with my boss and colleagues. I am comfortable here. But in the back of my mind, being in a white belt level organization as far as digital marketing might mean my progress will be slower.
2) Switch to an org with a more mature digital marketing practice. This will likely mean a lateral move to a digital marketing manager position, and a potential salary cut or not a very big increase. However, I feel I stand to learn a lot more in this setting, to really polish my skills and experience in digital marketing, and to be exposed to how a more advanced organization does digital marketing.
Which would you choose if you were in my position? Which option would build my credentials and confidence faster to put me on track as a digital director in the future, where I am running the digital operations and marketing of an org, setting strategy, and managing staff who are doing the execution?

What's up, folks. I've been back into making music for 1+yr consistently after a 10+ year hiatus and one thing that I've noticed in our hip hop world is, well, the sheer volume of everything.
I've chatted with a lot of rappers over the past year and seems a common problem is the grind of scrolling for beats. For producers, it's the grind of competing against AI, oversaturation, Beatstars lease grind, yada yada.
I have an idea brewing and I've started putting pen to paper but wanted to gather some thoughts/opinions too.
Is there a market for niche music making communities? I know there's a lot of servers and Reddits now, but we're all grinding and it tends to still get directed to Beatstars or some other transaction to keep moving forward. I've noticed that these "transactional pauses" can crush creativity in the moment, and also general relationships, since it's a pain to talk about rights, prices, etc. when you just want to vibe and want to make dope music.
-Problem for rappers: too many beats; too much fine print; not enough time -Problem for beatmakers: too much talking; too much arm twisting for free beats; not enough action. -Problem for engineers: wtf can I find consistency to get my thumbprint on a full project?!
Solution: a vetted community. monthly fee, we each contribute (e.g. x amount of beats, x amount of verses, x amount of mixes) per month or you get booted.
???
So yeah, paying to work, but I'm wondering if it helps cut the noise and surround yourself with people who actually want to make music and take their craft seriously. Essentially paying for a digital studio, where members are vetted and not just there to post their YT links, but instead of just trying to grow membership #s, it's focused on output.
if I'm off my rocker, lmk. This is me gathering intel on a potential idea.

I wrote this Yesterday when my friend with benefits told me that I am idiot and that he hate idiot people and how i know nothing about life and saying that he misses his ex that was smart. He said that 3 time By the way. And i saw messages with his friend saying that he wish i was smart like his ex and that i’m idiot when we were dating. And he was literally talking shit for 2 days! And disrespecting me that i even was crying for 3 hours and i was really really really hurt. I told him that I don’t want to see him at my place again but he still wants to live with me saying that i am his best friend anymore this is what i wrote:
“I hate this fucking guy that’s in my life unfortunately, and I feel like I need to get it off my chest here.
He's honestly the weirdest person I've ever met. Right from the start he's been going on about how he's the smartest one in the world and everyone else is just dumb including me. At first, I thought he was just kidding around, but it turns out he actually believes it.
He's got this superiority thing idk I can not explain it. But oh god he is just the worst.But what's even worse is how he's always putting people down, making them feel small. I regret even getting to know him.
Sure, he helped me out with a few things, but the way he makes me feel is just awful. I can't stand being around him anymore. It's like he thrives on making others feel like garbage and making everything about himself.
I'm not dumb. People tell me all the time how smart I am. My classmates, my family, everyone. And they're right. I might not know everything, but I'm always eager to learn and improve.
My life hasn't been easy, compared to his. But despite the challenges, I've managed to teach myself so much and I am still going on and on I've refused to let anything hold me back.
I've learned multiple languages, battled through depression, left everything behind me, everything bad I learned and even went through a divorce which, btw, is a huge deal in my culture.
But what I'm most proud of is what I've been able to do for my family. I've worked so hard to support them. I've done everything I can to make sure they're okay.
I've bought my sisters phones, paid for my sister's trips to Morocco and France, given her my favorite laptop, and bought another one for myself. I even helped them out when they first came to Canada, and I am still trying but not as much as I did.
It hasn't been easy. But yeah, everyone in my family looked up at me. Four of my cousins who came back to Canada around the same time as I ended up depressed and turned to drugs. But I refused to let that be my story.
I took a huge step by moving out and working hard, and I convinced myself that I wouldn't be the girl they tried to make me. I refused to be dumb or less than a man as Islam says.
I am pretty sure If I had the same support and resources as he had as a young, I would be smarter than this. But yeah, I am doing everything to myself, and I am not idiot ever ever ever. So yeah, I've had my struggles, but I've also had my triumphs. And I'm not going to let this guy or anyone else make me feel like I'm not good enough.
I deserve better, and I'm done letting him bring me down I need to really kicked him out of my life. You are better than this.
I would take everything but not to deal with this spoiled person that had all supports in life and yet do scamming and living for free in his stepdad house and talk shit about me working so hard and supporting myself and still going through all this by myself.
He told me that his mom was pushing him to do more activities things, I really wish if my family taught us things more than cleaning the house and preparing us to get married.
So please do not think to much about this shit, and just be good to yourself be better. God I hate how this person make me feel I hate spending time with him. Get rid of this cancer please”

I just had my follow up appointment with my urologist, it's been 2 weeks since I had an orchiectomy on the right. The Dr said it's all good news they believe there was a tumor but no sign of spread. Whatever was wrong with me is gone now! Still recovering a little bit from the surgery but I am very suprised how quick the recovery was after the first week. Returning to work in a few days cancer free :)
I was told however I will need to get follow up ultrasounds and scans for a few years but I am very optimistic.
Thanks to everyone who gave me advice before the surgery in my previous post. Stool softners for the win!

Everyone needs a farewell right?
I am sure you loved some cricketers or some football players and you probably loved how they got farewell from their team. For eg Messi won the cup (best moment tho)
But have you thought who's that one person who is always rooting for you abd giving their best so that you can stand somewhere without any problem.
These are your parents. They sacrificed their dreams, life, money, health, mental peace etc.
Don't you think they deserve a better farewell. Don't you think they should be proud of you and satisfied with themselves that their biggest investment gave them the best returns of their life.
Every parent who gave up everything for their children at least deserves a comfortable life in their last years. They are getting old still they are working relentlessly not for themselves but for you. You are everything to them.
Don't seek for motivation when the only thing you have to do is work or study... your parents are dealing with much more difficult things even right now but it won't reflect on their faces.
Show them whom they created and give them the best farewell they could ever imagine.
Just lost my dad today. Rip dad you was my hero ❤️

I am a single guy in my mid-thirties.
I am feeling sad and regretful about my teenage years and 20s.
I just feel like I have wasted the chances of improving myself and my life for the past 20 years.
I didn't feel anything when I was idling around throughout those years. But I could feel the pinch of pain when I have hit 35 years of age.
I was mostly playful during my teenage years. I always kept playing computer games. I also neglected my studies. The regret came to me when my peers did well in their studies and I did not.
My personal grooming skills also suck. I don't have a fit body. And my dressing up and hairstyle is still horrible. I wish I have paid more attention to my personal grooming when I was younger. If I had started working out in the gym earlier, I would have a fit body now.
I also have regrets of not learning musical instruments or learning a foreign language during my teenage years and 20s. Now that I am working currently, I am finding it hard to get the free time to learn them. I wish that I had learned them during my teenage years when I had more free time back then.
I also suffered from extreme social anxiety from my 20s till now. It had a big impact on my overall life, especially my social life. In my 20s, it was an herculean task to survive and run my life despite having social anxiety. Due to this, I did not have a proper social life like any other average adult. No dating, not able to goin group recreational activities etc. My social anxiety was bad to the extent that I skipped my graduation ceremony in university. At that time, forcing myself to be in public while having social anxiety is already overwhelming and took most of my energy. This is another regret that I have in life.
New Year's Day seemed fun when I was young. But it seems to be a bit painful after I have hit my 30s.
Every year of lazing around and idling seems to bring a heavy price of regret. Each year gone also means that a small part of my youth is also gone.
How can I overcome feeling regretful about my teenage years and 20s?
Thank you.

I (17F) have a brother (22M). We’re on good terms for the most part, and i adore his kids and girlfriend. But he has a problem with how he is. He’s one of those white boys that believe he’s entitled to everything and doesn’t care what other people think. I have a playstation 4 which i don’t exactly use but i keep in my room as a back up incase my playstation 5 breaks. The playstation 4 has problems such as going into safe mode and rarely working. Now here’s the problem, my brother went over to my moms house. And my other brother (20M) let him stay in my locked room. Which idk how they got in there. My brother (ps4 snatcher) saw my ps4 next to my tv and thought i would’ve been okay since it was just sitting there. He took it and didn’t tell me until a day later when i woke up and saw someone trying to log into my account and change my password. I texted my brothers gf asking if she was trying to play but she said she had her own account for her ps4. He texted me a bit after, saying that it was him. I was mad at first but let it go by. I gave him the password but i decided to be petty. I changed the password, waiting for an apology. Well i didn’t get one, instead i woke up this morning and he and his gf both texted me. His gf said he gave his ps4 to one of his friends. He told me the same thing. But he told me he only lent it to his friend today, whilst his gf told me that he had given it to him since the first day he had taken it. He tried calling me and everything, but i ignored and blocked him. I feel bad because he’s my brother. But at the same time, i don’t because he stole from me and gave my stuff to a dude whose known for not giving stuff back. I even told our mom which i know will make a lot more drama happen. aita for blocking him and blowing up on everyone involved??

Hi! I’m a fresh high school graduate (F) about to head off to college and I need some help.

There’s a guy that I’ve befriended over the past few months. We both live in San Diego and he moved here a year ago. We’ve only really gotten to know each other over the past six months, though. Here’s a summary of our relationship trajectory:

1. We meet in our free block period and quickly become friends due to shared interests and compatible personalities. He’s really introverted and I‘m a bit of a social butterfly. I don’t know if that’s why, but talking to him feels so natural. We never have to force conversation: it’s naturally intriguing and engaging and we both end up bursting into laughter without even trying.
2. We spend lots of time together and it becomes noticeable (friends shipping, class voting for us as “best almost couple”, etc.) We begin texting every day, surprising even myself (as I usually find texting annoying).
3. According to my friends, he is incredibly obvious. Everyone assumes that I do not like him for some reason (apparently I am not obvious). A TON of rumors spread (which I knew nothing about). Upon learning about the rumors, I illustrated discomfort about people talking about me with him present. Looking back, maybe that was a bad move: he may have gotten the wrong idea. It was just that I do not like being talked about in a romantic context. I didn’t feel disgusted by him (I actually quite liked him but was way too embarrassed to admit it since I’ve never liked anyone before).

3.5. He does lots of sweet things for me (sharing cute spotify playlists, sending photos of his life, making video collages for us, making me a bucket list). What really touched me was that all of this was unprompted. I think he is quite the walking green flag: he even gives me his phone to scroll through, which I did not even ask for (the only women he texts are me and his mother). I still was not sure if he liked me romantically, though.

1. He asks me to prom “as friends” the cutest way ever (in private because he knows I don’t like attention that way). I want to go with him but say no because I already had something planned with my friends.
   
2. We decide to meet up (arranging hang outs) but they get cancelled due to my full schedule and him being busy. We end up not being able to meet up before graduation.
   
3. On the day of graduation, I ask him what he meant by a specific phrase he wrote in one of his collages (“really, it is not like i do not like you”). It gets really awkward and we decide to talk about it later. We both go on separate trips abroad (France & Hawaii) after graduation and agree to buy each other small presents– an idea he suggested.
   
4. We meet each other at a restaurant and avoid the topic of our situationship/thing the whole time. He brings it up at the end and tells me I called him “bro” so much and that the prom rejection made him think I wasn’t interested. Apparently he liked me (a lot)?????? and took detours just to see me before my classes. I tried to ask if he still liked me but he kind of avoided the question and said that he forced himself to get over it (?????) but he did not specify if he was actually over it.
   
5. I am pretty terrible at being honest with myself romantically. I did not specify if I liked him either and just said I was very confused. I asked him what he was trying to tell me during our hang out/what his intentions were, as he just kind of rambled on and on about how he used to feel. I think we both know we would be great together but don’t know how to deal with ourselves.
   

CONCLUSION: Given that we are about to head off to college (I will be on the west coast/cali area and he will be in the mid west), I do not know if it would be wise to tell him how I feel. We may have both been a bit too late. I have realized recently that I do like him quite a bit, unfortunately. HJFSD:FLKSOJ:IFSKL what do I do :(

Any tips on how to get to Diamond tier? Been stuck on Gold 2-3, and It's been a heck of a grind trying to get past the plateau I've been stuck on.

Hi everyone, I need your help, I want to write a Precure fanfiction named Universe History Precure, the team has 10 members, the first 5 members are the members since the beginning, the other 5 members were first a rival team named Sword Charge Precure. The Cures are about 15 to 18 years old, the leader is the youngest and the strongest of the team. The Cures are also the reincarnations of many Cures of past eras. They'll also travel to many universes like Yugioh, Winx Club, Voltron legendary defender etc. One of the cures is a former villain, one of the cures is a princess from a other world. 3 of the cures are K-Pop stars, they are part of a fictional K-Pop group who's in the story the most famous girl group in the world. The team is supported by 11 fairies including a baby mascot. The Precures are also being supported by a organization named Universe Force, who works with governments around the world to protect the world and other universes. The enemies are the Dark Dimension Empire, and one of the cures is the daughter of the rulers of the Dark Dimension Empire. And the other enemy is a ancient atlantian man named Liax who was in love with the leader's Ancient Atlantian past life, but he was rejected and he was corrupted by a evil god who wanted to defeat the cures, but the cures sealed him for ten thousand years. Also a other enemy is a devil who is the father of the leader's demon past life who wants to resurrect her. The leader of the team is also a reincarnation of a demon goddess who was feared for her powers, she has a hairclip and necklace to calm herself down because her demon powers are very strong when she has negative emotions. Universe history Precure has 5 or 6 seasons, the cures will age and mature in the seasons. The leader will get special training from her ancient atlantian past life's grandmother to get more stronger.
But how should I write Universe history Precure with this storyline?

I need to link a guardian farm to my base over 800 blocks away without ever needing to go back to the farm past the point when I'm done building it. My idea was to use tons of chuck loaders so the farm is always going and using a nether pathway to transport the guardians, but I don't know how to get them through the pathway since water can't be in the nether under normal circumstances meaning I can't make a water path. It's especially difficult since the destination portal is 20 blocks higher than the guardian farm portal. If anyone knows how I could go about this, help is appreciated.

I’m sure you’ve read this story a thousand times, I’ll have a tdrl at the bottom for those who don’t want to.
Me and my wife have been together for 8 years, married for 6 with a 4 year old daughter. We met when I was in the military. Everything was great, we did an 8000 mile road trip about 6 months into our relationship and didn’t argue once, and lived together right after, and have been together since. We get married, know we’re going to want a bigger family and move into a bigger home. All the while she worked in finance and I continued in the military. My wife didn’t expect to get pregnant quite so quickly, but she did and everything moved forward.
Her pregnancy was mildly complicated. Medical issues, constant vomiting and just all around wasn’t great… nothing horrible or dangerous. Right after we had our daughter I was medically retired from the military. We knew it was coming… it was just a waiting game. The plan was for me to be a stay at home dad and her to return to work and continue being a professional because she hated being at home.
She went back for three days and quit. So for the last four years she has been a SAHM. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of positives of it and I love that my daughter gets to spent quality time with her, but there’s a bit of an issue.
My wife complains about money. I make low six figures, but she wants everything. Eating out every day, vacations, flights back to the other coast to visit multiple times a year, and refuses to get a job… or even look. Even to get a remote job. She doesnt cook. She doesn’t clean. She doesn’t do laundry. She doesn’t do dishes. She doesn’t shop for groceries. She doesn’t know how a vacuum works… she has literally said “Me and the kid can just go to a hotel for a day or two so you can just clean and we can be out of the way”. I mean shit on a day off of mine I clocked how long she was on the couch watching tv or on her phone and of the 14 hours she was up she was on the couch for 11 of them.
I work full time, plus overtime most weeks. I do all of the housework, cooking, and I am also working on my masters degree at an Ivy League school. Am I crazy in thinking that somehow this is a bit fucked?
TDRL; Wife and I planned for me to be SAHD, wife quit job after 3 days has been SAHM for 4 years. I work +ot, do all housework chores, working on masters, and she complains about money and refuses to work. Am I in the wrong to be pissed?

I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no one’s surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and I’d return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
“No, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.” He said, his voice didn’t come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“You’re going to need more pages than that.” He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
“Trust me, this is all I need.” I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
“Something there?” Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
“Just feel like-, never mind. If you’re ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?” I asked as the man took a moment.
“Call me ‘Farmhand’. Since it’ll sound better than my real name, you’ll find that out in time.” Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
“Just ask, I already know what you want to know.” He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
“How can you be so sure, Farmhand?” I blurted.
“You aren’t the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.” Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
“What’s her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?” I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
“She doesn’t haunt, she’s simply looking for a lift.” He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, it’s by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
“A lift? To where?” I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
“Her matric dance, my seun.” Farmhand said, the only other person to call me ‘Seun’ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
“What exactly happened?” I asked, pen at the ready.
“The legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.” Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
“How much less dangerous?” I asked.
“Snakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesn’t go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mamba’s live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.” Farmhand explained.
“Is that how it happened, how she died?” Farmhand chuckled lightly.
“Nope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.” Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
“What happened next?”
“Well, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.” Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
“Now I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.” I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
“It’s not a story everyone can stomach. Come, let’s finish this so you can write your story.” Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I don’t remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
“After the stranger- did the act, what happened?” I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
“He put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She should’ve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.” Farmhand continued.
“Did he ever find her?”
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
“No, I don’t believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but that’s not what you’re here for.” The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Promise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?” Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldn’t have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I don’t want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didn’t reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldn’t stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I don’t remember stopping, I don’t even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
“Do you?” It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
“No, not really.” I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
“You seem to know what you want.” The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
“Are you scared?” She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
“Keep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.” She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
“I want to know what happened here. The true story.” I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
“Can I trust you?” She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
“Yes. Yes you can.” I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
“You’re not like him?” Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to help.” I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
“Alright, I trust you.” She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
“What happened that night?” I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
“I was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. We’d known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.” Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didn’t move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
“It was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.” She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
“I thought I’d get some help, he said he’d be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I don’t know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said he’d help; we just need to get my man and he’d sort out the car.” She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
“Do you know what he did?” She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
“He deceived you.” I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
“He asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasn’t, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.” She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
“After I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.” She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
“I’ve searched for years, if he’d ever return, I’d make sure he never left like he left me.” She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
“I’m sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.” I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
“He was called ‘Farmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..” My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
“If you aren’t like how he was, then you don’t deserve to leave this road.” Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldn’t imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
“If you would like, I can take you back to town.” I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
“I don’t know.” She replied, unsure and confused.
“No rush, we have time.” I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasn’t there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the woman’s voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what you’re reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasn’t long before the questions I had before, followed me home.

Roaming Road/ Lady in White Part 2

I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no one’s surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and I’d return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
“No, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.” He said, his voice didn’t come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“You’re going to need more pages than that.” He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
“Trust me, this is all I need.” I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
“Something there?” Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
“Just feel like-, never mind. If you’re ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?” I asked as the man took a moment.
“Call me ‘Farmhand’. Since it’ll sound better than my real name, you’ll find that out in time.” Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
“Just ask, I already know what you want to know.” He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
“How can you be so sure, Farmhand?” I blurted.
“You aren’t the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.” Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
“What’s her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?” I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
“She doesn’t haunt, she’s simply looking for a lift.” He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, it’s by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
“A lift? To where?” I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
“Her matric dance, my seun.” Farmhand said, the only other person to call me ‘Seun’ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
“What exactly happened?” I asked, pen at the ready.
“The legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.” Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
“How much less dangerous?” I asked.
“Snakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesn’t go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mamba’s live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.” Farmhand explained.
“Is that how it happened, how she died?” Farmhand chuckled lightly.
“Nope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.” Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
“What happened next?”
“Well, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.” Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
“Now I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.” I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
“It’s not a story everyone can stomach. Come, let’s finish this so you can write your story.” Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I don’t remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
“After the stranger- did the act, what happened?” I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
“He put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She should’ve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.” Farmhand continued.
“Did he ever find her?”
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
“No, I don’t believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but that’s not what you’re here for.” The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Promise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?” Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldn’t have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I don’t want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didn’t reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldn’t stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I don’t remember stopping, I don’t even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
“Do you?” It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
“No, not really.” I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
“You seem to know what you want.” The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
“Are you scared?” She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
“Keep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.” She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
“I want to know what happened here. The true story.” I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
“Can I trust you?” She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
“Yes. Yes you can.” I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
“You’re not like him?” Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to help.” I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
“Alright, I trust you.” She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
“What happened that night?” I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
“I was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. We’d known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.” Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didn’t move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
“It was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.” She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
“I thought I’d get some help, he said he’d be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I don’t know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said he’d help; we just need to get my man and he’d sort out the car.” She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
“Do you know what he did?” She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
“He deceived you.” I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
“He asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasn’t, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.” She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
“After I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.” She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
“I’ve searched for years, if he’d ever return, I’d make sure he never left like he left me.” She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
“I’m sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.” I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
“He was called ‘Farmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..” My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
“If you aren’t like how he was, then you don’t deserve to leave this road.” Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldn’t imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
“If you would like, I can take you back to town.” I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
“I don’t know.” She replied, unsure and confused.
“No rush, we have time.” I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasn’t there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the woman’s voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what you’re reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasn’t long before the questions I had before, followed me home.

How do you get invited to the berry event? I am one and I'm thirty minutes away from a store. I thought there was an event today? I never recieved an email or anything. I'm just curious how it works. Thank you !

I bought the Quick Draw precon and enjoyed spellslinging, so have slowly been trying to upgrade the deck, but I’m having some problems getting it going.
I’ve added a bunch of cheap spells and magecraft payoffs, leaning into the tokens theme that it seems to come with as default, but aside from the infinite combos that [[Twisted Fealty]] and untap instants like [[Cerulean Wisps]] give you, I can’t work out how to pilot it.
It seems that once you’ve cast the few spells in your opening hand and maybe a token-creator or two such as [[Third Path Iconoclast]], you can’t cast enough spells to make use of Stella Lee’s exile and copy abilities. I feel like I might’ve made a half-Stella Lee tokens, half-[[Niv-Mizzet, Parun]] cantrip deck with no real focus.
I don’t want to use infinite combos as it’s too powerful for my pod and honestly, a bit boring to play against. Is she just a commander that intrinsically has to go infinite in order to be good?
Decklist: https://www.moxfield.com/decks/CO8_nTkR8kCT7iKlkyYjXQ

I take care of my elderly father. He must think I no longer have an interest in traveling anymore. I cant even take day trips anymore. He has tantrums since he cant get to go. Last summer I took a day trip and I was uneasy the whole time. When I got back I had to endure him going on how awful his life is, how weak he is, etc ... The grief I get cancels out any joy from the trips by 100X.
I buy him everything and run to fulfill all his needs and wants. I do this because I am willing to spend any money to lessen the turmoil I have to face daily. I am so patient and give him everything yet he goes on how no one cares about him. He acts like he is suffering the most in the whole world.
I am going at 100% trying to make his life as best as it possibly can be, but he acts like no one is doing anything for him. In the past when he was stronger I use to push back, but it always made it worse for me. I never won.
I am just sad.

I’ve been vaping for about 2.5 years and I’m trying to stop the habit and also start walk/ jogging which is helping me not want to vape because of how hard jogging is already, but I’m just curious if anyone else has vaped in the past and was able to get to a place where breathing while running gets a little easier after a while?

She told me that I get fixated on things, big and small. I asked her what she meant by “small things” and she sighed and said, “I knew you were gonna ask that.” Then she went on to list a few examples, like a favorite musical artist of mine or a new Sonic game coming out. I said that I thought it was normal for people to talk about their interests and she said, “Not like you do.” I asked her how it was any different with me and she said, “Because it’s all you talk about. You can’t talk about anything else and you always jump back to taking about it when you’re on another topic.”
Now my feelings are hurt. I feel more self-conscious and apprehensive about talking about or engaging in my interests. I ask myself, “What if I’m not doing this right?”, “What if I’m talking about this for too long?”, “What if I’m not doing this the way my aunt likes me to do it?”
What should I do now? Should I talk to her about what she said and how it made me feel? Or should I keep distance from her? On one hand, I know that communication it’s important when it comes to relationships (family, friends, etc.), but sometimes it doesn’t work depending on the person. I’ve tried talking to my aunt about other things she’s said that I found hurtful, but those conversations didn’t really go anywhere. She justified them. On the other hand, it’s reasonable to want to keep someone that has hurt you at arms length, but would that just be me avoiding my problems? I’m torn.