Happy dual-vector foil discovery day!

I have an older brother as well.
When I was younger my mother did a lot for me as a child she took care of me and fed me. However I noticed as time went on I noticed patterns that I started to hate her.
My mom would throw her problems on me about her marriage (they are divorced now). She would always judge every friend I ever had, sometimes distancing herself from me and staying quiet around me. She would get mad if I hung out with my friends to much or on the phone with them, Sometimes when I we would argue should would bring them up randomly saying how they changed me (I was 11 years old at the time). She would always send my older brother to go scream at me and I would be really scared. He once even grabbed me and shook me very violently. Than she would pull my older brother away and tell him not to do that.
Later on in my teenage years she would be mad if I had a girlfriend. She would pretend not to see my girlfriend and just keep walking passed them. All the time I would be dating someone she would be miserable it seemed. In arguments she would randomly tell me "If you love them so much stop telling my your problems and tell them your problems, go marry them while your at it!" When ever my relationships would end due to normal circumstances she would seem to comfort me but at the same time seemed to be a lot lighter and happier again with herself.
My brother listened to her, he did everything she said. He had no friends and never had a girlfriend and never worked. She used to be so proud of him, but behind his back she would talk shit about him and how he is ruining his own life. Yet she was the one that wanted him to stay single all to herself. My brother and my mom were always together it was bizarre.
She even used to be obsessed with my "masturbation habits and porn habits saying it was a sin" she would constantly check on me if I was doing anything. She would randomly bring it up being like "Have you masturbated today?" Like for god sake I was 16 years old!
When I got a full time job she starting treating my differently, she got aggressive with me more, started picking more fights with me. She starting saying I had anger issues (Which I did because I dealt with her so much). She would send my brother to yell and hit me sometimes but when my brother would start doing that she would start crying on the floor saying the family is tearing apart, until I would stop and do what she says.
I started to rebel when I got my full time job, I just started hanging out with friends, went on relationships and did what ever the hell I wanted, I told myself she can go fuck herself. I started acting out towards her. I started to become violent to her and my brother.
I started hitting my mother, held her down, beat her with a phone once, broke down the door she hid behind after coming into my room to yell at me that I was going out with friends and that I was changing as a person and she did not like it. My mom called me psycho, she threatened to call the police on me. I started to have dreams of murdering my mother constantly. I was tired of the life she had created for me.
She kicked me out of the house after and made my older brother stay with her, I moved in with my father across the state (We live in United States Arizona) and than moved in to my own Condo after 1 year. The reason she kicked me out was because I was dating someone and she told me that she cannot continue to house me if I kept living like that (I was 20 when I was kicked out).
A year later I still kept contact with my mom, things seemed a little better but tension was still there. However when I went to visit once at the house my brother and her escorted me around the house because they said I was not living there anymore and just wanted to make sure I did not take anything from there house. My mother even got mad when I took a shower once saying "You don't live here anymore, take it at home".
When I met my wife (girlfriend at the time) my mother had a issue with her, the first thing she told her was "Why are you with my son, you know he has a lot of problems" my wife is Arab (I am white American) so my mom used to pass comments about her saying to me behind her back "Be careful of those people, you know there families can be aggressive and kidnap you, they hold ransoms sometimes" or things like "Just make sure you don't catch a disease from them". When I told my mother I was getting married she became even worse about her. My mother and brother did not attend my wedding. On my wedding day my mother wrote me a long paragraph on how I ruined her life, she cannot believe the son she raised and how disrespectful I am to her, she even managed to talk a lot of my family to not go to my wedding. She told me you may be getting married but I am always still your mother I will always love you more than she ever will. When you were little I took care of you, I wiped up after you, I cleaned you, bathed you, fed you and this is how you repay me! After my wedding day on my honeymoon I turned off my phone. When I got back from Greece I had a wall of texts of how I am a failure, how I ruined everything for her, she hates her life now. I even heard from others that know her that she got super sick when i got married, threw up, and just in miserable now.
I decided that my wife and my own life should come first. I decided to cut contact with her, it was the hardest thing I ever did but I feel it was the best thing.
AITA for this? Sorry for the long read but I wanted to explain my story. Feels good to finally say it. You can be honest and judge, but I feel such relief ever since cutting her out and my psychy has been better ever since, no more anxiety.

Hello, I been playing with this idea for a while, but here is a video that gives a small idea of what we are doing.
https://youtu.be/hFBBXOlZnJ8?si=VNonTemep5J6WBdF
The tools will be:
55 gallon copper drum, which can hold 173,000 grams of the salts, but under compression and due to thermal expansion we will say it can hold 150,000 grams. Large screw going through entire drum. Just enough that water to saturate. 80,000 grams Rochelle Salt. 40,000 grams Epsom Salt. 20,000 grams white sugar. Unspecified amount of Pyrite filings, but the rest should be filled, so around 10,000 grams.
Recipe: Mix all the substances together. Add enough water to saturate. Heat the mixture till there are no air bubbles and its like puddy. Pour mixture into drum. Put screw into center of mixture in drum before it solidifies. Measure volts after the mixture solidifies.
Results: the battery he showed gave an output of 0.7 volts with 70 grams of material. We can then do the math and see that 150,000 grams of material should produce 1,500 Volts by dividing the grams by 100, because of the 0.1 Volts per 10 grams, which gets the 1,500 Volts. According to some sources, this battery should last 25,000 years, but I doubt it. If you take into consideration thermal expansion enough, it could be possible.
Some flaws in other experiments show that over the course of a few years the copper cracks and falls apart due to the vast pressure.

To start off, I am pale AF. Think whiter than a piece of paper. If I don’t apply sunscreen, I don’t just burn, I fry. My skin will turn stop sign red if I so much as LOOK outside at noon without applying sunscreen. Then when the burn peels, I go back to being as white as a glass of milk. If I’m outdoors, I apply sunscreen every two hours like clockwork. Don’t get me wrong, I see beauty in my skin, but I’ve also accepted the reality of life is I have to bathe in sunscreen on the regular.
The thing that sucks is I have to keep in mind if I want to wear something sleeveless or just with straps, I have to keep in mind if I have someone around who can apply sunscreen to my back. And it’s more complicated than you would think. My friends are great. They accept me for the pasty person I am and won’t give me any trouble if I ask for help putting on sunscreen. But other people? For some reason having another person put sunscreen on your back is weird. Like I’ve been out with FAMILY (siblings and parents) and gotten weird “I don’t want to do that” looks when I’ve been at the beach and asked if anyone can put sunscreen on my back. My mom has always done it no problem, but fuck why would anyone give their sister a side eye when they ask if someone can put sunscreen on me? It is common knowledge in my family that I burn VERY EASILY.
I’ve had a (very conservative Christian) guy I was dating think I was TRYING TO SEDUCE HIM OR BE INAPPROPRIATE by asking him to apply sunscreen on my back before a first date. I wore a sundress that day and usually I would wear a bolero to cover my shoulders and could apply my own sunscreen, but I had lent it to a friend to wear to her brother’s funeral and hadn’t received it back yet. At a later date he admitted he wasn’t sure what to make of me because I had asked him to apply sunscreen to my back. Glad that one didn’t last.
I remember after getting married joking that one of the perks was I always had someone around who would be comfortable applying sunscreen to my back. Now my husband has a job where he works a lot of weekends and I’m back to either relying on the kindness of people around me or just wearing stuff that enables me to apply my own sunscreen because as much as I love my 4 year old, I do not trust them to thoroughly apply sunscreen to my back. Some things ok with giving up. For example I wear a swim shirt and swim capris to water activities and it’s great because my toddler doesn’t have to wait for me to apply a ton sunscreen.
But sun dresses… man, I wish I could just wear them whenever I want. But I can’t because a lot of them are spaghetti straps or sleeveless and I won’t always have someone around who can properly apply sunscreen. I have to make sure they at least have the shoulders and back covered enough that I can apply my sunscreen myself. I’ve tried just using the spray sunscreen, but I’ve literally been burned by not being able to rub it in properly.
Maybe this might be a small thing to some, but it just goes to show how certain things being sexualized can affect our everyday lives.

Edit: DO NOT message me a simple hi or hello, with no information about you, Put some effort in to your message like i have, come on. Day+Attempt#192
Hello everyone, Thank you for taking the time to read, I know its long, I know - I know. But its worth the read, Trust me. I appreciate you immensely.
Here's a bit about me,
My name is Jay, I live on the East coast of the US. I'm looking for love - like everyone else on here.., but you may not believe or even be doubtful that I've never had a GF before with me being 26, but its true. I'm simply just not willing to "be with" just anyone and I'm very picky. I want us to be a match, more than just have similar things in common.
One thing I have always been told is that I'm a "Real Catch, I'd be extremely lucky to have someone like you" - WELL THEN TAKE ME. I'M FREE. LOL.
About me:
Physically -
~I'm a semi-tall guy, around 5'10.
~I'm thin but muscular.
~I have dirty blonde/ brown hair.
~Changing colored eyes.
~A voice nice enough to melt all your safeguards and get right into your heart and weak spots.
~I do not have any tattoos or piercings. Though I would like to get some eventually.
If you'd like to see a picture of me just ask and I'll show you - IF I may see you as well, I simply just don't want a picture of me out there for anyone to see.
-If there's anything else you'd like to know just ask.
Otherwise -
~I do have 3 pet bunnies I would be more than happy to show you, they are extremely cute.
~I'm a very honest and down to earth guy.
~I'm very patient and easy going.
~I'm very curious and inquisitive. I will try to ask everything I can to learn all about you haha.
~I'm Very VERY Kind & Caring, I will probably ask how you are feeling a bajillion times a day, simply out of care for you.
~I can get pretty clingy, and will always want your attention and to be talking with you. If i have someone im interested in i wont want to talk to anyone else🤷‍♂️
~I'm very trustworthy - you can confide in me, and entrust your deepest secrets and I wont tell a soul.
~I'm a HUGE hopeless romantic, im old fashioned and will always try to impress you.
- I'm, a BIG softie even though I may look a smol bit intimidating, but I'd do just about anything to see you smile or laugh. And yes.., I do mean anything.
~I'm a big goof - I will get up to some silly shenanigans ALL the time, I will crack dumb jokes and send you memes and tik toks just to make you happy, even if its from across the room I'd wait to see your reaction lol.
~I'm extremely loyal, and would never even think of cheating.
~I will cook for you, and clean up too, even around the house, I'm very self productive and don't ask for much. Just don't forget to kiss the cook.
~I'd also love to just cuddle up and watch a movie or read a book together, anything to get us closer. Id try to take you out on dates whenever possible haha. I have a million SUPER romantic date ideas I have but have never had anyone interested enough in me to take out. Here's your chance ;)
~I will always want to share stuff I find interesting with you, and try to share every moment of every day with you. I'm not looking for someone who can only talk for a small amount of time, I want someone who's willing to put in all the effort I put into them back into me, it goes both ways. If I'm "with" someone you are my TOP priority nobody and nothing else would be. You would be the only person I'd truly want to talk to, so rest assured I would NEVER cheat, even more so because no one is interested in me - Hence why I'm here hahaha.
I'm sure there is more to me than this snippet but I cant think of more at the moment haha, so get to know me and find out more about me.
Some of my interests are: Engineering- I'm a nerd. I admit it. I love being technical and hands on, I love building things. All kinds of things, from furniture, machinery, and reverse engineering anything I find. I love learning how things work and trying to improve things.
Music - I prefer music with a very fast pace, or with some very meaningful lyrics I can relate to. I love to sing along to music and songs that have a deep meaning behind it I can sympathize with makes it all the better. Some bands I like are: Bad Omens, Beartooth, Demon Hunter, MIW, I9K - The list goes on. I'm a bit of a metalhead unfortunately.
TV Shows & Movies - I love watching shows, and I'd love to stream some shows and have some E-dates with you, to get to know you, or if you are close to me, maybe we could do it in person. Some shows I like or more of the Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Comedy, Action, stuff like: National Treasure, Halo, BattleBots, Rick and Morty, AHS, Anything Marvel or DC, The Witcher, Wednesday, The Sandman, The Magicians, The Umbrella Academy, ETC.
Gaming - Yes yes I know, Basic guy likes basic stuff. But gaming has been a thing for me since forever. I know most of you wont care or want to hear that, but I'll leave out the specifics on this part unless you are interested in that, MEGA Bonus points if you are.
Here's a lists of Cons to dating me-
~I'm not Ryan Reynolds. Disappointing, I know.
~I will fight you on what goes on pizza lol.
~I'm not rich.., Yet.
~I can't pronounce Worcestershire.
~I'm slightly forgetful, but with good reasoning.
~(Not really a con but- some might disagree) I still have ALL of my firsts, Do with that what you will c:
~I've got an endless pile of love and affection and no one to give it to! What a dilemma! Help me fix it?
Other than that I'll save the rest for a bit more of getting to know each other.
Here's a bit of what I'm looking in you:
~Preferably someone with lots of free time, and loves to chit chat. I'm seriously not interested in getting 1 message a day. Though I understand people get busy, I personally am not willing to try to learn about you and form something with 7 responses a week. Effort gets reciprocated and I appreciate the time you put in me.
~Physically: -I’m not personally attracted to anyone who’s “curvy/ chubby”, I apologize. Not a shallow thing, I just dont have the attraction chemical in my brain for that, I’m sorry. -If you’re shorter than me, thats a plus to me. -I love dimples, if you have those when you smile, bonus points 😊 - I’m not sure what else to put.., but as for nsfw wise find out😂
~I'm a sucker for a different accent other than American, and if you have an Posh English accent you have already won my heart.
~I'm also only really looking for someone within the ages of 18-35. I don't want anyone old enough to be my mom lol.
~I'd prefer (But not a must) people NOT on the other side of the world, as other time zones SUCK. I don't expect to find anyone who also has never had a boyfriend either, but that would be a real plus. I also don't mind a LDR, but I don't want that forever. But it gives us time to get to know each other.
But as for attributes I'm looking for in you:
~Someone who is above all else very very Loyal and would never cheat.
~Someone who is Honest, and will tell me the truth over a little white lie.
~Someone who is Kind & Caring, who'd constantly check on me, and accept me for who I am & help me improve day to day.
~Someone who is trustworthy, and I can count on to keep my secrets safe, or even just help me remember things.., I do tend to be somewhat forgetful.
~Someone who is very Patient and wants to see me succeed and will help me do so, just like I would help you. Even if its small day to day things, I would appreciate your company ANY time.
~I want a partner who is Affectionate, can reciprocate, and loves to snuggle and talk about their day, and what their interests are, and what makes them happy.
~Someone who can admit they get clingy or overprotective is a bonus.
~A partner with good communication is key, if something wrong we have to be able to talk about it.
~A partner who likes to game with me or at least watch me play would be a plus but not a requirement.
~Someone with a good sense of humor and like to joke around, I am a big goof after all and I love to joke around. Sending memes is always appreciated and good to cheer people up too!
~I'd prefer someone with the same music taste, but not a requirement, Plus if you wouldn't mind if I send you love songs occasionally that's a bonus, or sending me some back haha.
~Being willing to voice call is a must, Texting forever is not the way to go. I have to know what your voice is like haha, later on we can video call if you are comfortable with that. I prefer chatting on Discord because Reddit messages of any kind I'm sure you know are unreliable and sucky in general. So please send me your discord if you have one :)
~I would LOVE to see picture of your pets if you have any. Bonus points if it includes your beautiful self haha.
I'm sure there is more I'm looking for but I cant think of it right now haha, I will have to edit this when I think of it.
Please tell me about you as an opener! I told you a good bit about me, now its your turn haha.
Tell me some things like -
~What's your name?
~Where are you from?
~How old are you?
~What are your hobbies / interests?
~What about my post interested you?
~Where is my TV Remote?!
~Selfie? Pet pics?
~Hit me with your best joke or meme :)
~What's your favorite candy?
I'd LOVE to get to know you, and see where things go.
But yeah, I know it was long I'm sorry haha. Send me a message and lets get to know each other! :)

I know the answer is factually "no" because you can still get some super cheap black and white film like Foma (30m roll for around 55€ which equates to ~3€/36 exposure roll), but as I was looking at the types of film I like to shoot, I think there is still some sens to that observation :

• Kentmere 400. Pre-packaged 36exp rolls are ~6€. When buying a 100ft bulk roll, this goes down to 4,5€
• Ilford HP5+. Pre-packaged is 9€/roll, goes to 7€ when bulk loading from a 100ft roll.
• Vision3 (any variation). Pre-packaged, I've found it as low as 7,5€/roll, and when bulk rolling from a 400ft, it goes down to 6€/roll.

So Vision3 is cheaper than HP5+ !
Obviously, you have to factor in developping, which for BW can be done for a few cents/roll, and for ECN2 currently would be around 1,8€/roll if using Bellini's 3L ECN2 kit (could be lower if mixing from raw chemicals)
I may also be posting this becomes it becomes a bit tiring to always hearead about film being too expensive. Of course it you buy a roll of Portra 800 for over 20€ and get a dev+scan for 15€ it's expensive, but it doesn't have to be. (do that 10 times, and you would have saved 270€, which more than pays for the required gear to develop at home, do that a few more times, and you have an awesome scanning setup as well)
I want to buy a digital Leica M body, but then I do the maths and realize just how many rolls of film I could shoot in my current film bodies, and just buy more film and chemistry. (for example, for the price of a new Leica M11-P, you could shot and develop around 1100 rolls of Vision3...)
Have you changed what film you shoot because of pricing ?

This hell started for me 2.5 years ago with Covid. I came down pretty bad and presented with CFS / ME symptoms - crushing fatigue, Fluey feeling, brainfog, vertigo, POTS. After 2 years of wading through that route, I tested positive for Bartonella, Borellia amongst a host of co infections like HSV, EBV etc. i remember having a tick bite as a late teen (although never got it seen to - ffs WHY), and all my adult life I’ve definitely been weaker than friends, fatigued, bad immune system, couldn’t tolerate working out, joints swelling that the rheumatologisy couldn’t explain. So I am thinking I probably had Lyme for 10+ years kept vaguely in check by my body, unleashed by Covid
I started IV via a picc line this week. On my second day of Azithro I started vomiting for 20 hours, 0 sleep, 2 anti sickness drips later I finally could eat rice. We dropped the dose to 1/2 and pulsing. I still feel TERRIBLE like the worst flu I’ve had in my life but not throwing up. Also have chills, stiff neck, headaches, etc. By day 2 this semi passes but I feel very out of it still (and then it’s time for the next IV)…
Doing everything under the sun to detox. Infrared sauna blanket, salt baths, multiple tinctures, alkaseltzer gold, glutathione drip, lympathic massage, foot baths, 3l of water etc
I’ve fought so hard for the past 2.5 years to have some quality of life back. Yes, my life is still awful, I’m housebound but at least if I stay inside my symptoms are minimal. It’s a shell of my old life (2 jobs, planning a huge wedding, massive social life) but I wasn’t suffering 24/7. It took me 2.5 years to reach that stage. Now I’m worried I’m fucking it all up. If I am having this response to one antibiotic, what happens next week when we add another, and the week after when we have a 3rd?! Am I going to do permanent damage by treating like this? Or would the Lyme do more permanent damage untreated? Both options are awful. I’m so scared, I’m so sad. I will do about anything to get better, and will suck up the terrible herx, but my big fear is making myself permanently worse.
Please help and please be kind :(

This hell started for me 2.5 years ago with Covid. I came down pretty bad and presented with CFS / ME symptoms - crushing fatigue, Fluey feeling, brainfog, vertigo, POTS. After 2 years of wading through that route, I tested positive for Bartonella, Borellia amongst a host of co infections like HSV, EBV etc. i remember having a tick bite as a late teen (although never got it seen to - ffs WHY), and all my adult life I’ve definitely been weaker than friends, fatigued, bad immune system, couldn’t tolerate working out, joints swelling that the rheumatologisy couldn’t explain. So I am thinking I probably had Lyme for 10+ years kept vaguely in check by my body, unleashed by Covid
I started IV via a picc line this week. On my second day of Azithro I started vomiting for 20 hours, 0 sleep, 2 anti sickness drips later I finally could eat rice. We dropped the dose to 1/2 and pulsing. I still feel TERRIBLE like the worst flu I’ve had in my life but not throwing up. Also have chills, stiff neck, headaches, etc. By day 2 this semi passes but I feel very out of it still (and then it’s time for the next IV)…
Doing everything under the sun to detox. Infrared sauna blanket, salt baths, multiple tinctures, alkaseltzer gold, glutathione drip, lympathic massage, foot baths, 3l of water etc
I’ve fought so hard for the past 2.5 years to have some quality of life back. Yes, my life is still awful, I’m housebound but at least if I stay inside my symptoms are minimal. It’s a shell of my old life (2 jobs, planning a huge wedding, massive social life) but I wasn’t suffering 24/7. It took me 2.5 years to reach that stage. Now I’m worried I’m fucking it all up. If I am having this response to one antibiotic, what happens next week when we add another, and the week after when we have a 3rd?! Am I going to do permanent damage by treating like this? Or would the Lyme do more permanent damage untreated? Both options are awful. I’m so scared, I’m so sad. I will do about anything to get better, and will suck up the terrible herx, but my big fear is making myself permanently worse.
Please help and please be kind :(

Yesterday, I took my 2 y/o boy to be seen for an ear issue (he's been shaking his head a lot lately). The tech swabbed his ears and a ton of black wax came out, which was then checked under a microscope. The vet said it was a result of a double ear infection, with the right ear being worse.
He also dove between the bed and wall a few weeks ago when he was scared by the apartment landscapers' equipment. His right eye was red and a little puffy but went away after several days. We noticed he still squints that eye off and on, so asked about that too. They stained his eye to check. He has a white (kind of clear?) spot in the center of that eye, which they said was a corneal scratch.
They cleaned his ears, put medicine in them, gave him a steroid for inflammation in the ears, and sent me home with ointment to put in his eye. (I did hear him scream once across the hall, and started crying.) He was very sleepy when we got home, so I checked on him frequently but tried to let him sleep as much as possible. He is still eating and drinking as normal. Our other cats are being very sweet to him, trying to bathe his face & ears.
This morning I noticed what looks like a bruise on the tip of both ears, with the right being worse. He is acting a LOT more like himself today, thankfully. I tried not to read about the side effects of the ear medicine (I'm your "Dr. Google" patient, but I try not to overstep the doctor. It's mainly for my own research, or to ask a question so I kind of know what to expect when we go home), because I know many medications are used "off label". But the bruise (??) is really bothering me. At first, I thought maybe he had something on his ear tips, so I gently tried to clean it off with a kitty wipe.
Is this common?
This is what I was charged for yesterday. I don't know why it says "RX Counseling Declined", because I had the option of taking drops home, but the Dr. was pushing for in-office so it would already be done. We've gone there pretty much since they opened several years ago, so I trust their recommendation. I did ask a lot of questions about the ear medication, and he said if this were his cat, this is exactly the route he'd take.
Here is how his ears look this morning. Apologies for the strange angles. He moved at the last moment in the first one. He also likes to watch the water go down the toilet, and the lighting was great. 😂 It's on both ear tips, but the right is a little bigger, if that makes sense
Any advice / reassurance would be amazing. I already feel like the worst cat mom ever, especially since the vet was very angry when he first came in. I had no idea it was this bad. His follow up is next Saturday. Thank you! ♡

"And I looked back to see the voice that spoke to me; and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks, And in the midst of the seven candlesticks the likeness of the Son of man, clothed in a long robe, and girt about his chest with a golden belt. And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes like a flame of fire; And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace; and His voice like the roar of many waters; And He held in His right hand seven stars, and from His mouth issued a sword sharp on both sides, and His face was like the sun shining in its power. And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead, and He laid His right hand on saying to me: Fear not, I am the First and the Last."
Rev. 1:12-17
John heard a voice behind him and when he turned around he saw a vision of the glorified Lord Jesus Christ who is the Lord and head of the church.
"... Christ is the head of the church,"
Eph. 5:23
However, let's go in order. When John turned around, he first saw seven candlesticks, "and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks". First, let's see why "seven candlesticks". verse.
"and the seven candlesticks which you saw are seven churches."
Rev. 1:20
So John sees a vision of the church which is represented as a candlestick. These candlesticks were made of gold and could be transferred from one place to another olive oil was put in them and they served to light. The fact that they are made of gold speaks of indestructibility and the same John writes, "seven golden candlesticks" and the Lord said that the church is indestructible, so the symbolism is clear.
"And I also say to you: you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it."
Matt. 16:18
We saw that the candlesticks were used to give light and here the symbolism is very clear, in this corrupt and dark world the church should shine because it has knowledge that is from the Lord that shines compared to what Satan and the world offer. In Matthew we can read about these topics:
"You are a vision to the world; a city cannot be hidden when it stands on a mountain. Nor is a candle lit and put under a judge, but on a candlestick, and it gives light to all who are in the house. So that your light shines before people, so that they can see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
Mt. 5:14-16
And now John says, "And amid the seven lampstands as the Son of Man" Since John last saw the Lord Jesus, many years have passed, even about 60, and now he sees a glorified Jesus in the middle of the church, as he had not seen him before. John saw Him as a man. while he was on earth and now he is both man and God, the God-man, and in the middle of the church because he promised it.
"I will not leave you destitute; I will come to you"
John 14:18
,, and here I am with you all the days until the end of the century. Amen."
Matt. 28:20
Here is what else was said about the relationship between God the Father, Jesus and the church:
"Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he is the one who loves me; and whoever has love for me, my Father will have love for him; and I will have love for him, and I will speak to him myself"
John 14:21
"Whoever loves me will keep my word; and my Father will have love for him; and we will come to him, and we will dwell in him."
John 14:23
Although they killed Jesus, He is alive in the midst of His church and gives it the power to shine in the darkness, and this is possible because every member of the church can say:
"And I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And now that I live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, whom I loved, and who gave himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
,, dressed in a long robe, and girded across the chest with a golden belt." Long robes were worn by kings, prophets and high priests in the Old Testament. Here Jesus is probably represented in the high priest's robe, and we conclude that based on the verses:
"Having, therefore, a great High Priest, who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the son of God, let us hold on to confession. Because we do not have a High Priest who cannot suffer with our weaknesses, but who has been tempted in everything like us, except for sin."
Hebrews 4:14-15
Jesus went through suffering and was tempted far more than we are and then he triumphantly took his high priestly robe and now we see that he is among the church he loves because he offered his blood for her.
"who loves us and washes us from our sins with his blood"
Rev. 1:5
We further see that he has a gold belt on his chest, the belt is a symbol of the winner and gold also symbolizes victory and the winner, we know that today the winners in various sports receive gold medals and in some also belts that are proof that they are winners and we do not have athletes here but the Lord Jesus Christ who defeated sin and death and who redeemed his church and with them can "celebrate the victory" in sports jargon.
"And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow." Here John describes Christ's holiness and purity, which is "white".
this is used here so that we can understand at least a little part of the fullness, part of the holiness of God which is not soiled or stained by anything, and "white" is the best description. In support of this is a part of the verses that talk about the blinding light which again is "white" " so we see that this is a symbolic representation of God's eternal holiness. This is what happened to Paul as a result of God's holiness.
"At noon, king, I saw on the way from the sky a light greater than the brightness of the sun, which illuminated me and those who were going with me."
Acts 26:13
"And when I became blind from the strong light of it, those who were with me led me by the hand, and I came to Damascus."
Acts 22:11
"and His eyes are like a flame of fire" The Lord is with the church, but He watches and sees everything that happens in the church:
"whose eyes are like a flame of fire"
Rev. 2:18
"And there is no substance unknown before Him, but everything is naked and exposed before the eyes of the One to whom we speak."
Hebrews 4:13
and is ready to burn everything impure in the church. We know from experience that during burning, all objects that are not, say, metal or stone, are burned and only they "survive" the flame, while something that is paper, cloth, grass or something else with a low at the point of ignition they are turned into ashes, that's how all the impurities must be burned here and the church must be as clean as "metal" that passed through the flame where only the corrosion was burned, which means that the metal has become cleaner.
The church should be clean, and it is written about that:
"Because I am jealous for you with God's zeal, because I vowed you to one husband, to bring a pure girl before Christ."
2 Cor.11:2
,,...Christ loves the church, and gave himself up for her, to avenge her by cleansing her by bathing in the word; To put it in a glorious church, which has no blemish or wrinkle, or anything like that, but that it should be holy and without blemish."
Eph. 5:25-27
"And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace;" This refers to God's chastisement for sin. We have probably all had the opportunity to see what molten metal looks like, either in a factory or we have watched videos of lava burning from a volcano and moving on he burns and burns all sides and everything in front of him so that nothing remains. Something similar is also here, Lord Jesus is very merciful and full of grace, but he is also a flame that can trample and burn everything in front of him.
"and He treads on the cauldron of wine and hearts and the wrath of God Almighty"
Rev. 19:15
,, and His voice is like the roar of many waters; "This is the voice of authority, the voice of God who is speaking and you can only hear him because when you are next to a big water or a waterfall of roaring water you cannot hear anything else. Here it is the voice of Jesus speaking to the church and to all of us through his word and revelation by the Holy Spirit .
"And he held in his right hand seven stars," We have an explanation of what these stars are in the following verse:
"seven stars are the angels of the seven churches"
Rev. 1:20
These seven "stars" are the preachers of the seven churches and this testifies that the churches and the preachers are under the control of the Lord Jesus and He holds them in his right hand. This does not apply to angels because nowhere are angels leaders in churches, angels have other tasks while they are leaders in the churches of the people.
"Thus says He who holds seven stars in His right hand"
Rev. 2:1
"And out of His mouth came a sword sharp on both sides," and here we have verses that refer to chastisement and judgment because Jesus defends His church and opposes the Gentiles who tried and will try as long as they can to destroy the Church and the work God's. They are followed by a warning:
"And out of His mouth came a sharp sword, to slay the Gentiles with it;"
Rev. 19:15
..And to the angel of the church of Pergamum write: Thus says He who has a two-edged sword:"
Rev. 2:12
but there is not only judgment but before that mercy, the last warning:
"Repent therefore; if not, I will come to you soon, and I will fight with them with the sword of my mouth."
Rev. 2:16
"and His face was like the sun shining in its power" This is a complete continuation of the description that was earlier and it referred to the hair and eyes. If the hair and eyes were as in the description earlier, it is logical that the face should be like that, that the face shines. The face of Jesus as the head of the church shines in the church, but Jesus also wants to shine through the church that is in the world and in that way so that the Gentiles see the power of God and come to repentance. The Lord is patiently waiting.
"The Lord is not late with His promise, as some think He is late, but He is patient with us, because He will not let anyone perish, but all come to repentance"
2 Peter 3:9
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead..." John, at this announcement of the Lord Jesus, "was shocked, speechless" maybe he was so scared that he simply fell as if dead when he saw part of the astonishing glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

This song is the song where I have the most issue with when it comes to the fans' interpretation of it. Their biggest argument for this is the football references, but they fail to consider that the football metaphors were just a way for Taylor Swift to draw parallels between the (American) football world and her situation.
In this analysis, I'll be doing a line-by-line breakdown of why this is not a Travis Kelce song, but is instead a song that she wrote where she is directly addressing her fans, much like how "But Daddy I Love Him", and "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me" were written.
Here it goes. Please bear with me!
This happens once every few lifetimes

• Suggests a rare and significant event. Taylor's comeback after a major public backlash (Kim Kardashian's Snakegate incident) and hiatus was a unique moment in her career, and in anyone's public career, really.

These chemicals hit me like white wine

• The "chemicals" symbolize the rush of emotions and excitement, akin to the thrill she feels from reconnecting with her fans by organising the Eras Tour.
• "White wine" can imply a pleasant, intoxicating experience, like the support she gets from her fans (look up her sales and streaming charts).

What if I told you I'm back?

• The "you" here directly addresses her fans, announcing her return to the public eye after a period of "absence".
• IMO this line is not at all a shade to Joe, but directly references the line "but I come back stronger than a 90s trend" in willow.

The hospital was a drag / Worst sleep that I ever had

• This song is a direct reference to epiphany, and, on a bigger picture, the pandemic. We must remember that her plans ("Loverfest") were all cancelled thanks to Covid.
• The line also metaphorically refers to her time in "hiding" or dealing with the aftermath of the public fallout, which was a difficult and restless period.

I circled you on a map

• This is the easiest line - she always plans her tour ahead and would choose the locations that she would be performing at.
• This symbolises her plan to reconnect with her fans, targeting them, in each location, specifically as her focus upon her return to touring.

I haven't come around in so long / But I'm coming back so strong

• This line once again emphasises her "hiatus" and assures her fans of her strong comeback.

So when I touch down / Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team / Ditch the clowns, get the crown / Baby I'm the one to beat

• "Touch down" signifies her reentry into the music industry. "Call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team" represents reclaiming her position, emphasizing that she is the top artist and dismissing those who doubted her or tried to take her place.
• "Baby I'm the one to beat" represents her thoughts that she's the one "ahead of the curve" (this is me trying). Now, couple that with her AOTY award for her albums "folklore" and "Midnights", despite the strong competition she had (SZA, Harry Styles, Dua Lipa) - no, folks, Taylor Swift is the one to beat.

Cause the sign on your heart / Said it's still reserved for me

• Indicates the unwavering loyalty of her fans who kept a place for her in their hearts despite her absence and the controversies surrounding her (in general)
• .

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

• "Alchemy" symbolizes the magical, transformative bond.
• Taylor thinks that the bond between her and her fans is a magical one, one that withstands challenges and changes.
• The Alchemy is what makes her bejeweled.

Hey you, what if I told you we're cool? / That child's play back in school / Is forgiven under my rule

• Now, this line is where she addresses her fans directly. In this line, she is suggesting that she forgave all that drama ("child's play") back during the snakegate. (disclaimer: we know she forgives, she forgets, but she never let's it go -- so let's move on from this one lol)
• But basically, between her and the general fans, she's saying that she's 'moved past' what she thought was her fans' reaction to the the public feuds and media drama.

Now, let's move on to the bridge!
Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said

• This is where she uses the football metaphor to describe the celebratory atmosphere of her concerts, the unity, and the joy her fans experience together.

There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy? / He just comes running over to me

• This line! Basically reflects on how she defied the odds and criticism to become the "greatest" with the support of her fans, symbolizing victory and recognition.
• By all means she is currently "the greatest".
  • She is, afterall, the first person in Grammy history to win album of the year four times.
  • Her name is definitely up there as one the greatest of all time, according to Billboard.
  • There's more but I mean, it's like repeating the same points basically.

These blokes warm the benches / We been on a winning streak

• In this line, she is trying to say that everyone else are just warming the benches, while she's the one who's been out there on a winning streak with folklore, midnights, and the eras tour.
• Her usage of "we" here indicates not only "her", but everyone involved, including her fans. This reinforces the alchemy that she has with her fans, and that all of this is a mutual success, i.e. she would not be here without the support of her fans.

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E" / Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me

• This line is a controversial line, because of her usage of the word "he". Now, who is "he"? Is it Travis Kelce? Or could it be Matty Healy, considering his history with the pills? In this song, this actually does not matter. Why?
  • The point of this line is to symbolise the feeling she feels when she's performing, bejeweled, in glittery skirts, and the feeling insider of her when her fans giving her a standing ovation. To her, this feeling is euphoric. It's like taking heroin.
  • Because she is a female artist, she feels like a heroine in her show. Everyone pays attention to her, and only her. As with all heroines in movies (specifically, those movies with no heroes).
  • Combining both together, "Heroin with an 'E'" signifies as a powerful, euphoric connection (her and her fans) that's not destructive (unlike Heroin), but rather, a positive, euphoric, and uplifting feeling.
• Again, the "sign on your heart" symbolizes fans' loyalty.

and finally, this line....

• Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me.
  • Before I do a deep dive on this, let's establish the definition of the "trophy". The "trophy" symbolizes ultimate success, victory, or recognition in a competitive field.
  • This line is a rhetorical question. There is no actual "trophy". Taylor Swift is the trophy.
  • Any dudes dating her should recognise that. That she's the trophy.

Addressing the (American) football references in this song:

As mentioned before, the football references in this song are simply metaphors to help illustrate the themes of competition, triumph, and teamwork.

• "So when I touch down"
  
  • While "Touchdown" is a direct reference to scoring in American football, it also, in a literal sense, means refers to when she has landed in her private jet. At this point, we all already know about her and her private jet "news" - I do not need to elaborate on this.
  • "Touching down" symbolizes a notable return after her hiatus and public controversies, Taylor Swift’s "touch down" represents her re-emergence into the public eye with a strong, confident, and elevated status.
  • In the context of the song, it symbolizes Taylor's return to the public eye and re-establishing her position in the music industry.
• "Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team"
  
  • This phrase uses the concept of a sports team to signify separating the less dedicated or less talented (the "amateurs") from the main group. It implies that only the best and most loyal (fans) shall remain, akin to a team selection process in sports.
• "Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said"
  
  • This imagery is reminiscent of celebratory scenes in sports, particularly football games where fans celebrate their team's victories with loud cheers, lifting people in celebration, and the chaotic but joyful atmosphere, very much like the Eras tour.
• "There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy?"
  
  • Directly references sports league competition and winning a trophy, which signifies achieving the highest honor or success. And who is she? The Billboard Woman of the Decade. The first person in history to win the AOTY 4 times. One with one of the highest grossing tour of all time. Yes by all accounts she's the music industry.

TLDR: If you switched the "you" in this song to reference "the fans", this song will make complete sense. Now, try giving this song a listen, and think of "you" as "yourself" (the fans).
Taylor Swift's song "The Alchemy," is basically a powerful ode to her fans, chronicling her journey through public scrutiny and her triumphant return to the music industry. It draws parallels to her tumultuous period following the "snake gate" incident with Kim Kardashian and her subsequent hiatus before the release of "Reputation," the lyrics reflect a narrative of resilience, redemption, and the unwavering bond between Swift and her fans.
Once you are able to interpret "you" as "the fans", you'll be able to see, without having to do too much mental gymnastics, that the song is about the transformative and enduring connection Swift shares with her loyal supporters.
If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. Sorry for any typos or grammatical errors - but I hope I helped you made sense of the song!

I'm pretty much in love with the idea of this new Orzhov Blink deck. Note that the sideboard is some cards to consider for later, not an actual sideboard.
The idea is to get as many synergistic ETB creatures onto the field as possible and then exile/return them multiple times with [[Another Round]] and [[Yorion, Sky Nomad]]. Another Round is particularly cool cuz if I pump it, I can blink them three times (with 7 mana). It's fairly easy go 6 ETC damage amongst the creatures I've got in there.
I'm winning a little over half my games on Arena. About to hit diamond. But there are some fundamental flaws.
1) No card draw. There are some great white card draw creatures, but they don't synergize with [[Gray Merchant of Asphodel]] and I'd have to remove creatures which do.
2) The list requires you to get multiple creatures down and then blink them. It's surprising how aggro-ish it feels and then Another Round, in particular, finishes hard--especially when you have 7 mana with it so you can blink them three times. If I have a Gray Merchant, [[Avara, First of Locthwain]], and [[Corpse Knight]] down, it's a total of 24 life lost for opponent with one cast of Another Round.
3) I should probably add more creatures. Any thoughts? What would be biggest payoffs for the blink actions?
4) If they remove a few creatures it just sputters a bit and you end up petering out. Based on the Orzhov thread a couple back, I'm thinking about adding [[Aven Interrupter]]. I also kind of want to get [[Citywide Burst]] in there. But I just don't know what to remove because I need enough creatures on the field for the blink effect.
I have [[Flicker of Fate]] in there to save creatures if they're trying to remove or to get a couple of turns with Gary in.
I've toying with the idea of making Yorion a companion and going to 80 cards, but that's intimidating to me. I'm still pretty new to Magic. I have a ton of ETB cards I could add, though. Discard effects. Draw effects. Life effects.
Would love y'all's thoughts, both on the current list, but also an 80 card list.
I've created a discord if anyone wants to go deeper.

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

The original "The Fast and the Furious" released in 2001, contains a biblical subplot. This isn't as farfetched as it seems, considering that this film was re-written before its release by David Ayer, who is considered "...one of the five most prominent Christians in Hollywood." The original screenplay was written by Gary Scott Thompson. His vision for the film was for an all Italian cast racing through the streets of New York City. David Ayer, rendered some rewrites that made the film what has become these 20-something years later. One of his changes sets the film in Los Angeles instead of New York. Scripturally, angels are messengers and there surely is a message in this film, which is a re-telling of Revelation 13 using the analogy of cars and street racing.
To sum up the message of Revelation 13 is this: The Roman Catholic Church represented by "the sea beast" (Revelation 13:1) unites with America represented by "the earth beast" (Revelation 13:11) to issue the Mark of the Beast (Revelation 13:16-18). Scripture supplies the most in-depth literature known to man and this film has become a pop-culture gem because of it. Let's look at some of the symbolism.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is an allegory of the Roman Catholic Church. The name Dominic is derived from the Latin Dominicus and is a name given to boys born on Sunday. It is the root word for "Domingo" which is Spanish for Sunday. Contrary to the 7th Day Sabbath of the 4th commandment (Exodus 20:8), Catholics instituted their own day of worship, which is Sunday. Priest Brady, in an address, reported in the Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ on March 18, 1903, stated, "It is well to remind the Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, and all other Christians, that the Bible does not support them anywhere in their observance of Sunday. Sunday is an institution of the Roman Catholic Church, and those who observe the day observe a commandment of the Catholic Church." Their are many pontifical orders in the Catholic Church and one of them is the "Dom-inican" Order. Pope Pius V was of the Dominican Order and he instituted the Inquisition. The Dominican monks are known for brewing beer and in the movie, Dom is constantly advertising "Corona Beer." Dominic Toretto drives a 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD. At the core of this car is a turbocharged Wankel motor, driven by rotors instead of pistons. The rotors are Releaux triangles and were prominent features on gothic style Catholic Churches. The Releaux triangle is also the basic shape for the triquetra which a symbol for the Trinity. The Trinity is never mentioned in Scripture as a name for God which is important. The Trinity is a Catholic invention. The Roman Catholic Church is named as such because it absorbed practices and traditions from the Roman Empire. It was Constantine that issued the first Sunday Law; an attempt to make Sunday holy. They used to hold races in the Coliseum to honor the Roman trinity known as the Captoline Triad or the Archaic Triad. The name Trinity was coined by Tertullian, a staunch Romanist. This is why Dominic uses three Honda Civics to pull of the heists, because Trinitarians believe the Holy Spirit is another being form that sits on the Throne of God; three on the throne. In reality, there are only two being forms, the Father and the Son, on the throne, with their Spirit being inherently there. Dominic's RX-7 has a Veilside body kit. The "veil" (Hebrews 10:20) is symbolic of Jesus Christ and the pope believes that He is an additional incarnation of Christ. In the beginning of Fast X, Dominic is portrayed as a defender of the Vatican and St. Peters. Dominic Toretto is the Roman Catholic Church.
Brian Spilner [O'Conner] (Paul Walker) is an allegory of American Protestantism. The name Brian means "noble" and nobility is defined as having "high morals standards and ideals." Brian is also a police officer or a keeper of the law. America was established as a Protestant Christian nation with the intent of upholding the Law of God. Most Protestants today have forsaken the Sabbath command and uphold the Catholic Sunday. Brian is also on the "wine of Babylon" and is seen drinking and distributing alcohol throughout the film. Protestant denominations now also believe in the Trinity, significantly compromising the strength of the Protest. Is this reflected in Brian's ride? Yes. Brian drives a 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse. The Mitsubishi symbol is a trinity of diamonds or rhombuses. At the heart of the Eclipse is a PentaStar 4G63 built by Chrysler. Chrysler secured a $75 million war contract to aid in producing J. Robert Oppenheimers "Little Boy"; the atomic bomb dropped on, of all places, Japan. The codename for the first atomic bomb test was "Trinity", named for the Catholic triune god. The American symbolism for Brian's car doesn't stop there. The American rebadged version of the Mitsubishi Eclipse, is the Eagle Talon. There is also an abstract blue and white eagle on the side of Brian's car; the eagle being a prominent symbol for America. Brian's surname "O'Connor" is of Irish origin. Catholics have slandered the name of St. Patrick claiming that he used the shamrock to preach the Trinity, but in reality he was vehemently against, or protested, the Catholic doctrine or the Trinity. Revelation 13:11 says that America sprang up like a Lamb (a symbol of Jesus Christ) but began to speak as a dragon (a symbol for Satan.) This denotes compromise. Brian is seen sitting with Dominic many times drinking alcohol, a sure fire way to lower your inhibitions and compromise your integrity. Brian has illicit relations with Mia, Dominic's sister [who openly displays her devotion to the Catholic Church in the film], which seals his compromise. Brian then ends up lying to his superiors after sleeping with Dom's sister. Brian is an Apostate (Lawless) Protestant Church.
Brian loses his car to Dom in a street race, which transfers ownership of the American-powered Eclipse to Dominic. Eventually, America will be owned by the Roman Catholic Church and will "build an image to the beast" and issue the Mark of the Beast on their behalf. The Eclipse is destroyed. Is not America in such a a state of declension, that the calling of a moral leader seems like the only way to save this country? Remember, Pope Francis came to America in 2015 and addressed not only the nation from the White House, but also an active session of Congress. We are a constitutionally church and state separate nation. What was the Pope doing there? Dom and Brian start working on another car to replace the destroyed Eclipse; a 1994 Toyota Supra. Before 1990, there was no official symbol for Toyota. On October 2, 1989, the official logo was released. The symbol is a "T" comprised of a trinity of ellipses. The code name for a 1994-1998 Supra is the Mark IV(4). So the Toyota Supra contains as mark and a trinity.
So what is the Mark of the Beast? Sunday observance and worship enforced by law. Dominic's name associates him with Sunday and Brian, being a police officer, associates him with the law. When they united to build the Supra together, it symbolized a National Sunday Law aka The Mark of the Beast. Their union also is symbolic of the formation of church and state in America: the "image to the beast." By the way, all graphics for the cars in the film were supplied by "Modern Image." When this forms, we are in "Barney Rubble Trouble." We are a country built on ecclesiastical liberty, but when a Sunday Law is put into motion, those who accept the law, will lose their "Liberty of Conscience." No good. This is why when Pope Francis addressed an active session of Congress, where we pass laws, was not a good sign. In fact, Pope Francis chose a Fiat 500 to ride in when he came to America. The word "fiat" translates to "law." This was not a coincidence.
How does this movie end? After one final race, Dominic flips his car, receiving a "deadly wound" (Revelation 13:3). Dominic (the pope, the outlaw) is not captured and brought up on charges as he should. Instead, Brian (America, the law, the Image to the Beast) hands over the keys to the Supra, giving Dominic complete power and ownership. Scripture says that the Roman Catholic Church will come to an end and that God's true people need to "come out of her...lest ye be partakers of her plagues..."
The promotion of Sunday, the exaltation of the Trinity, the apocalyptic formation of the Image of the Beast (Church and State) and the fraudulent retelling of prophecy is all contained in a little movie about street racing released almost 23 years ago. The sequels, attractions, and merchandise have never ceased to roll off the assembly line. Sequels that point to Dominic as a Catholic Champion. Even in "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift", the first song to play is "Six Days" by DJ Shadow. [Refer to Exodus -11] This song puts Monday as the first day of the week making Sunday the Seventh Day, giving Sunday the appearance that it is the Sabbath of the Lord. Yes. The Fast and the Furious is arrayed against the Law of God. The sobering fact is, Revelation 13 is already being played out right in front of our eyes. This film, which could arguably be called "The Last Great Film Before 9/11", portrayed the various steps and phases that America, nay the world, was about to go through, with the audience unaware. Sadly, Paul Walker has passed, but the message lives on today, with the OG Fast and Furious still being the greatest effort in the series.
Thank you for your time and consideration. 🙏🏾🙏🏽
Please watch the video Swift to Mischief: A Prophetic Exposition of "The Fast and the Furious" for greater detail.

First / Previous
Suzanne thought it was absolutely brilliant of me to put books on a flash drive for Sun. She explained that Sun wasn’t as sophant (her word, not mine) as she might seem, more of a repository of information, but she was fairly intelligent. It was how she was able to connect Andrew being in pain to the fact that I was friends with Andrew, and that I would want to know that he was in trouble. Apparently some of Sun’s species had given some ‘wisdom’ to others in the past and it had made its way into mythology.
The key fact was that she was not smart enough to protect herself and her kind from the clever, organized poachers. With that information in mind, it was fascinating for me to think of how Sun took in and organized what she learned. It was almost as if she was a walking, talking library.
On the topic of tours, my first one went wonderfully, and I’m almost hoping Suzanne lets me do more of them. I know not all the tourists are going to be as awesome as these people were, but Suzanne gave me a lot of slack when it comes to dealing with them. She actually said that being a smartass is not grounds for dismissal, and that if I’m sarcastic or facetious to guests who are being ‘daft’ and they complain, she really doesn’t care. Is this the perfect job for me or what?
There were four guests in this party, two adults who were sisters and two children of one of the women, brothers aged thirteen and seventeen. The tour was a birthday gift for the older of the boys from his aunt, since apparently he was passionate about animal protection and conservation.
When they arrived at the front gate, I was sitting at Andrew’s desk, going over the booklet of information one last time. When the visitors pressed the button that sounded the alert buzzer, I tucked away in a drawer and let them in. I did have a cheat sheet with information about the animals on my phone just in case, a brief notation of each of them and which enclosure they were in, but I really didn’t need to use it.
Exiting through the front door, I saw them walk up the path toward me. “Hi, I’m Ripley,” I said, holding out a hand toward the woman closest to me.
She shook it firmly. “I’m Denise. This is my sister Carla and my nephews, Wesley and Jason,” she said, motioning to each of them in turn.
“I heard it’s your birthday,” I said to Wesley, giving him a smile. “You’re interested in animal conservation?”
“Back where we live, yeah,” he said, nodding. “The animals that you’ve got here are incredible. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Well, I can’t wait to show them to you,” I said. “Right this way.”
I led them on the path around the building, toward enclosure one. Despite the horrific memories of the animal killing Stanley’s friends, I knew it was just an animal, and I had to push past my feelings on what had happened. Keeping a small smile on my face, I motioned to the enclosure. “Fiercely territorial and amazing hunters, despite their large size, they’re arboreal and known to dart from tree to tree with barely a sound. This is one of only about two thousand left in existence.”
“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty six at last count,” spoke Wesley, his eyes on the trees.
I blinked, surprised and impressed. “Well that was fantastic. Do you plan on stealing my job when you graduate?”
Wesley looked at me with a grin. “Nah, everyone knows Suzanne only offers humans this gig. And I want to help animals like this one get off the endangered species list. The zoos are great for awareness and fundraising, but then the money has to go somewhere. I want to be doing the real work.”
“That’s really great,” I told him. “I wish you all the best in that career path.” At that, we saw the animal climb down from the tree, wandering a few yards from the tree line. This was because 90% of the time, when humans were at their enclosure and making noise, whether it was speaking to each other or calling out to the animal, it was someone bringing them prey to eat. Or, in my case, enrichment toys to play with.
“Whoa,” Wesley whispered.
“How close can we get?” spoke up Jason.
“The warding starts at the fence,” I told him with a small gesture. “So, just there.”
Both boys wandered closer and I glanced at their parents. It seemed that Suzanne’s zoo had a serious reputation for high quality invisible walls, because they didn’t look worried in the slightest about the boys being hurt or killed.
“They prefer dense forest as their home and have been known to make their nests in trees up to twenty meter in the air,” I continued. “And when hunting, they’ve been seen dropping eight meters straight down. They have incredibly dense yet flexible musculature, which allows them to tackle their prey without injuring themselves.”
There was more information about the animal that I continued to rattle off, though Wesley chimed in at certain points with the info I was about to convey. That was highly entertaining and very cool. When I’d been in school, I’d never met anyone who had my level of passion about endangered animals. I wondered if things were better where these folks came from, but realized that considering there were so few of these animals left, I guessed not.
The animal paced a little bit, seemingly waiting to see if we were the kind of humans that came bearing food, before deciding we weren’t and climbing back up into the trees as easily as I would climb some stairs.
As we moved onto enclosure two, Jason spoke up. “Are there any animals here we can touch or feed or something?”
I sighed inwardly before slowing to a stop. “Well, can you show me your hands?” Jason looked bemused, holding out his hands. “I mean…they both look like they’re in great shape. You can stand to lose one.”
The two women chuckled and Wesley smirked as Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very funny.”
Grinning, I started walking again. “The animals here are all carnivores and all predators. You get to see them, but that’s it.”
“Alright.”
When we reached enclosure two, I started on my next spiel. “We’ve got three reanimated dead in this enclosure,” I spoke. They were just coming out from the trees as we arrived, presumably having heard our approach. “Marissa, Connor, and Bradley. They were donated by families who knew where they would be exhibited. Their next of kin, whoever they are, can’t stand the idea of putting them down. But we need to make sure they don’t have access to corpses, because one of them plus one corpse equals two of them.”
“They eat flesh though, don’t they?” Wesley asked.
I nodded. “Oh, yeah, but it’s from bodies that have already been dismembered. There’s no chance of them being affected by the transformation because it’s all parts.”
“Oh, got it.”
The creatures with blueish-white skin had superhuman strength, which is why they qualified for the security of Suzanne’s zoo. They also were likely the source of any Earth tales of people being brought back to life as zombies, specifically draugr, according to my research. They smelled like rotting flesh, so even as I kept talking about them and giving a background to the people they used to be, we were quick to move on once Wesley had gotten a good, long look at them.
“Enclosure four’s animal is a vampiric spirit. He’s a small, hairy humanoid creature with pointed ears. He wears a hat, and if he somehow loses it, he freaks out,” I said.
“They eat horses,” Wesley noted. “Also anything that gives them the chance to sit on it, usually catching them by surprise while they’re sleeping.”
The creature came out from the brush, giving us a suspicious look. He wasn’t in his humanoid form though; for some reason, he’d chosen to shapeshift to a dog.
I nodded. “Yep, indeed. Once the prey is dead, then he’ll eat it, and he has a voracious appetite. We have two wolves and two bears in the forest, which is one of the reasons I’ve got some self-defense items,” I said, patting my belt where my pepper spray (rated for bear) and my taser. “But the wards keep them out of this area of the zoo, so it’s really not much of a worry. It’s also a known shapeshifter, preferring the form of a dog, as you can see, as well as a cat, a snake, or even white butterflies, though the last one is rare.”
“The white butterflies are supposed to be a sign of good luck,” Wesley said, glancing to me. “Too bad we got the dog.”
“Yeah, otherwise you might be able to talk your mom into getting scratch-offs on your way home, huh?”
Wesley smirked at me.
The next enclosure was Spike, and he was waiting for us, dripping wet from having just emerged from the lake. I gave the introductory information about him, which included his propensity for eating animal eyes, nails, and teeth. “Recently, I’ve given him some enrichment activities, and I learned he likes artichokes, pecans, and hazelnuts,” I said, taking a bag out from my cargo shorts. “Wesley, do you want to toss this bag into the enclosure?”
The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded excitedly. He took a look into the paper bag before wrapping down the top to make sure nothing would fly out. Then he chucked it underhand past the fence. It landed a few yards from Spike, who waddled over to it quickly and tearing the bag open, spilling out the prizes inside. As the animal ate the pecans and hazelnuts, Wesley asked, “How’d you figure out he likes those?”
“It’s not all about taste,” I told him. “It’s mainly the difficulty of getting them out of the shells. He’s used to having to work for the parts of his prey he likes the most, so this mimics that activity, and he enjoys the process. I tried a bunch of different foods to find a few he liked.”
“Cool,” Wesley murmured, staring at him.
We watched Spike eat until he’d finished and then he went back into the woods, leaving us to move onto enclosure five. Japanese camellia were plentiful here, a type of pink flower, and that was because they grew anywhere near one of his species made their den. “This girl spends most of her time in the lake also,” I said, as the creature made its way toward the fence separating us from it. “But as you can see, she’s just as curious as the rest about what we’re doing here and whether we have food for her. She eats fish mostly, but she also regularly gets live prey.”
This creature was a spider-like monster, having six legs with long claws on each, and the head of an ox with two sharp horns. She was capable of shapeshifting to look like a human, but I guessed that she wasn’t fond of it, since I hadn’t yet seen her in that form.
“She prefers the easy way of catching prey, so to speak, by hiding in the lake and pouncing when something comes for a drink of water,” I explained. “Apparently humans are some of her favorite prey. She has an advantage of being able to spit poison, which often hits her prey in the eyes. But it’s usually used in defense rather than offense, since she secretes a limited amount.”
“What kind of animal would even go after something like this?” Jason asked, staring at her.
“Never discount one of its own species when you’re thinking about what might attack an animal,” I replied. “There are places that are breeding all of the animals here, but competition for mates is common. That means an advantage in a fight, like poison or venom, can make or break who the winner is.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
“It can’t spit past the warding, right?” Carla suddenly asked.
“Oh, no,” I assured her. “We’re fine. The wards wouldn’t let anything cross over.” She nodded, appeased.
The animal in enclosure six was the ginormous seal-hippo, Fiona, and she was looking at us as if she was imagining sprinkling us with herbs and spices and stuffing us in an oven. “This girl is one animal I’m going to work on enrichment activities for next,” I told them. “She prefers to feed on crayfish, though she’s happy to eat any humans that wander into her territory. She’ll even make a sound like a baby crying to reel us in. I’ve heard it a bunch of times.”
“Can you get her to make the sound?” Jason asked, perking up.
I grinned. “Not on command, sorry.”
“What enrichment are you thinking of trying?” Wesley asked.
“Possibly food placed in puzzle feeders,” I told him, “since she has claws that are pretty dexterous. Maybe a piñata made out of newspaper with flour inside, or a scarecrow that mimics a human.”
“Awesome,” he muttered.
After a little more educational tidbits, we moved onto Yui’s enclosure. “What is that?” Wesley asked, smiling.
“I got Yui the closest thing I could to a ping-pong ball,” I replied. “She quite likes it.”
“That’s so funny,” he said as she came out of the trees in her spider form. “I mean, the idea of her being a bloodthirsty hunter who seduces men to their deaths and eats them alive, but then on the other hand, she likes playing with something like this.”
“It is a little funny,” I agreed. “But when it comes down to it, all the animals here enjoy activities besides hunting.”
“She can shapeshift to look human, right?” asked Jason, trying to be casual about knowing something factual like his nerdy brother.
I nodded. “She looks like a woman from a region of Earth called Japan. And she’ll use strategies like holding out a hand to shake to get you closer. She tried that on me when I first got here but, as you can see,” I said, holding up my hands and waving them, “I didn’t fall for it.”
The boys both laughed as they got closer to the fence, watching her slowly pace near the trees.
Next was Sun, but she didn’t make an appearance as I spoke about her species. “Well…unfortunately we can’t guarantee that every animal comes out to say hi,” I sighed. “But…oh wait, here she is.”
The green lion with several horns and many eyes along her flank came out from the forest. “Hello,” she spoke.
“Hi, Sun,” I replied. “We have visitors.”
“What’s that?” Wesley asked suddenly, pointing at the small plastic bag that was still where I’d left it.
“Oh! That is Sun’s enrichment,” I said with a smile. “I put dozens of books on a flash drive and found that she can read them just like she’d read a shelf of books.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve read about anyone trying that before. That’s really cool.”
“The books are new and interesting,” Sun spoke, drawing our attention. “I’m grateful for them.”
I nodded to her. “You’re quite welcome.”
The next animal, unfortunately, wasn’t there, and we waited around for ten minutes as we discussed him. He was large and reptile-like with red eyes, with its hind legs and tail making him look vaguely like a kangaroo. Then, enclosure ten was a terrifyingly disturbing creature, the not-a-centaur with no skin, that I’d only seen a few times while walking my route. It gave a good demonstration of its ferocity, showing its sharp teeth and snapping at us a few times.
“I’m thinking of trying salt licks and other horse enrichment like a big bouncy ball,” I told Wesley, whose eyebrows went up at that. “Maybe give him more things to forage like scattered grains or a box filled with pinecones and seeds. Foraging is a huge part of a horse’s life in the wild, and humans have to do a lot of activities like that to keep pet horses busy. Of course, he also loves the little salt-water lake that was built for him.”
We spent some time looking at the animal before moving past our last stop, the empty enclosure of the animal was stolen. Carla glanced at me with a sad smile, knowing what had happened, it seemed. I gave her a nod as we continued on our way, walking into the office. “So, I hope everyone enjoyed themselves!” I said with a smile.
“That was the coolest birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Wesley said, looking to Denise. “Thanks so much, seriously.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said with a nod. “I’d never been here before, and knew I’d find it fascinating. Thank you for the educational aspect,” Denise said, glancing at me. “I learned quite a lot.”
“Happy to hear it,” I said, returning the nod.
As I escorted the guests out of the zoo and locked the door behind them, I reflected on how much I’d changed. The first time I’d seen Yui’s tarantula form, I’d nearly passed out from fear. Now here I was, walking tourists around like it was no big deal. Humans really can adapt to anything, it seems.
That afternoon, Suzanne had texted me that she was coming by after my shift, and I met her in Andrew’s office, shutting the door to the security room behind me. “How’s Andrew?” I asked first thing.
“He’s doing well,” she said with a wide smile. “Back on non-hospital food. He’s allowed to order food on his phone, and to hear it from him, that’s the best news he’d received in a long time.”
I chuckled. “I guess some clichés are true for a reason.”
“Indeed.” She took a breath. “All right. Ripley…I would like to discuss something with you.”
My face went slack at the serious tone in her voice. “I’m not… Am I being fired?”
“What? No!” she exclaimed. Then she chuckled softly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just, here, let’s have a seat.” Suzanne walked over to the couch and sat at one end, and I took the other. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, that I wanted to keep from you until you found your sea legs here.”
“Well…I have,” I said with a nod. “So, what is it?”
Suzanne took a breath. “I knew your mother.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before making their way to my ears. It was a perfectly logical sentence, and yet it didn’t make any sense. “What?” I finally managed.
“When you graduated college, I decided to move the zoo from Italy to within driving distance of your home,” she said softly. “Near enough to your town that you’d see the advert. We ignored any other applicants and I hoped you’d apply. Actually, I expected you’d apply. Not just for the money, but considering the field you wanted to go into. As soon as I’d found out your major, I knew.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How do you know Patricia?”
“She owned the zoo before I did,” Susan explained. “Fourteen years ago…she was working to track an injured animal that we could bring into the zoo and she was killed by poachers.”
My heart calcified in my chest and a lump lodged in my throat. As my breaths became shaky, I stared at her in shock. “She…she’s really dead?”
“You suspected?” she asked softly.
“It…” I swallowed hard. “We had her declared legally dead after…I don’t know, seven years I think. My dad wanted to go after her for child support, but the police said…they said they couldn’t find…” Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them back before I met Suzanne’s gaze. “She owned the zoo?”
Suzanne nodded. “It was her baby, you’d say. When Patricia passed, I inherited it, which we’d discussed beforehand, a legal just-in-case that I never expected her to need. I’m under the impression that you were told she went to Africa for her photography career, but she was in fact going to remote areas back in my home world almost every time.”
“But I-I saw the photos,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me she put on a show of getting pictures that someone else took for us to see every time she visited? Did my dad even know?”
“I suppose that’s an accurate way to put it, putting on a show. And no, your father was never told. It’s not the way of things to tell humans unless it’s necessary. I won’t bore you with the details, but us and humans, we’re distant relatives, so we can still have children. But it wasn’t planned. Your mother fell in love with your father despite herself; she hadn’t meant to find love. Then she became pregnant with you and…well, the rest is history.”
“I think she had a different definition of love than the one I have,” I said tightly. “You’d think she’d have put her survival as more of a priority. Put being with the man she ‘loved’ as a priority. Her kids needed her. I needed her. She signed up when she became a mom. She could’ve screwed up all the time but she couldn’t even manage that one job: be there. When I was in the hospital, I kept thinking, ‘Where is she?’ and now you’re telling me that she put these animals above being there for her kids, and this whole time she’s been dead.”
“The hospital?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Never mind,” I said tersely, averting my gaze.
Suzanne hesitated before she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss, and not just for her death, Ripley,” she told me. “Patricia was…well, a ‘free spirit’ would be putting it gently. She always assumed the world would be there for her whenever she needed it.”
Staring at her for a long moment, I shook my head. “Why? Why come here and hire me?”
“I thought that would be obvious,” she said, smiling. “Your mother was so passionate about this place and once I found out your college major, I figured you would be as well.”
“Did you know that I hate her?” At that, Suzanne’s expression froze on the edge of shock. “She…she left us,” I whispered. “Didn’t tell us who she was or what she really did for a living and gave us no closure. And even when she was here, it was just visiting. Her real home was her work. She could give me all the presents she wanted, but even when she was here, half the time she was still on her computer doing work. It’s not like that stereotype of never making it to my tennis practice or something; it’s that it always felt like she was only partially here, even when I was sitting next to her. I don’t even know if I appreciate her turning me into a wildlife fanatic because it…it…makes me feel like I’m close to her in a way that’s just infuriating. She loved the animals more than she loved us.”
“Oh, Ripley-”
“Don’t,” I said, shoving myself to my feet. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said quietly. I pursed my lips. “I was going to say that I’m sorry that was the case. Your mother was…flawed, just like any other person. She had two loves in this world: her family and her work. And often, her work overcame her, her zeal for environmentalism getting in the way of being a good mum. She left your father trying to fill the role of two parents, holding your family together. You and your brother and your father, you all deserved better than that.”
My lower lip quivered but I bit down on it hard. It would’ve been a lot easier for me if she’d been speaking from a place of clueless reassurance about all this. But everything she said was making sense and that meant I didn’t have someone in front of me to be angry with.
“Why didn’t you tell me when Andrew hired me?” I sighed, sitting back down on the couch.
“Well, like I said, I wanted you to find your sea legs,” she said with a small smile. “I didn’t want the truth affecting whether or not you wanted to work here, whether you wanted to stay here after finding out about what the animals are. It would’ve complicated things, the emotions you’ll have to work through now that you know the truth. Whether or not you decide to give another tour, you also know what they’re like. That’s the benchmark I wanted you to reach before you found out about who you are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who I-” My face went slack. “Wait.”
Suzanne nodded slowly. “You’re only half human. Your brother too.”
The room seemed to tilt on an axis for a moment. “That means I’m also half…what?”
“We call ourselves Eldritch, these days,” she replied.
My eyes bugged out. “What?” I exclaimed. “So you’re all, like, gods or something?”
Suzanne burst out laughing. “Oh no, goodness, no,” she chuckled. “It’s just a word. We live in a very different world from this one, and a few generations ago we discovered the word and it made its way into our lexicon. But it does mean you can see all the animals. Indeed you did, on the tour you gave.”
“Wait, no, I had the glasses that…” I stopped. “Did those glasses do anything?”
She gave a sly smile and shook her head. “Not a thing. You made incredibly quick progress, and then when it came time for the tour, all you needed was to expect to see the animals, and you did.”
Genetics. That’s what Andrew had said during our interview, that part of how many animals you could see was determined by genetics. I guess having a mother who was originally from the other dimension gave me all the genes I needed to see everything here. “Could I…visit your world?” I asked tentatively. “You said that my mom took photos of the animals there. Could I…” My voice trailed off, not even sure if or how I wanted to finish that sentence.
“Those who are half human, especially those who are raised on Earth, don’t come visit,” she said gently. “I could show you some photos of other animals, and I could loan you as many books as you’d like, but it’s simply not a place where you’d be safe.”
“Oh,” I said, leaning into the couch cushion as I pictured the animals in the zoo. “Yeah, actually that…makes sense.” I paused. “So, what now?”
“It’s up to you,” she said. “I wanted to wait until I was sure you were comfortable with your position here, and then put the ball in your court. And so it is. What do you want to do now?”
What did I want to do? It wasn’t that difficult a question, just a deep, serious one.
I wanted to thrive, as the animals did. This is my enrichment now, working at an incredible, wonderful, terrifying zoo. The experience so far hasn’t been perfect, and I know there are risks, but life isn’t about staying safe. It’s about learning new things and making a difference in the world. And, if you’re lucky, having a job that’s something really special.
THE END
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Partner and I went to Brilliant Earth, tried on a bunch of stuff, and ended up loving the Toi Et Moi cocktail ring (but as an engagement ring and with a diamond instead of topaz tear drop).
Being frugal I wanted to shop around for the lab diamond that Brilliant Earth showed us that we liked. We figured out the criteria for what would look good on the Toi Et Moi and I want to make sure we aren't getting ripped off.
I have our ideal criteria and some comps I did quickly online. Am I crazy or are the same stones like 3X cheaper than on Brilliant Earth? Am I missing something? If the price range is that different doesn't it make sense to just buy from one of the reputable loose diamond online sellers and then link with a reputable local jeweler and have our ring put together?
I expected a traditional big name store to be more expensive, but are they really that much more expensive or am I missing something? Any help is greatly appreciated!
Ideal Criteria -------------------------------------------------------- Cut: [Very Good] or better Color: [H] or better Clarity: [VS2] or better Carat: 2.06ish Shape: Pear Dimensions: 11 X 7 Ratio: 1.54 (This ratio is what looks best in the Toi Et Moi setting)
Comps -------------------------------------------------------- Brilliant Earth Price: $2,790 (Cheapest one that fits our criteria) Cut: [Super Ideal] Color: [H] Clarity: [VS2] Carat: 1.80 Dimensions: 11 X 7 Ratio: 1.58
WhiteFlash Price: $1,096 Cut: [Excellent]? Color: [G] Clarity: [VS1] Carat: 1.81 Dimensions: 10.46x6.67x4.24 mm Ratio: 1.56
loosegrowndiamonds Price: $645 Cut: [Ideal] Color: [G] Clarity: [VS1] Carat: 2.01 Dimensions: 11.12 - 7.03 x 4.35 MM Ratio: 1.58
B2C Jewels Price: $748 Cut: [Excellent] Color: [F] Clarity: [VS2] Carat: 1.83 Dimensions: 10.69x6.79x4.31 Ratio: 1.57